Just So You Know, I Don’t Work Fridays by J. S. Cooper EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: J. S. Cooper
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
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“What else can go wrong today?” I mumbled as I cleaned up the sugar
I’d spilled all over the countertop. I felt like I was living the week from hell.
Just the evening before, my parents had alerted my sisters and me to the fact
that they were getting a divorce. Then this morning, I’d received a thirtyday notice to vacate my room in the house I was renting, which was pretty
much the only place I could afford on my mediocre salary.
“Welcome to Charlotte’s Coffee Shop, where the coffee is dark, the
cookies are sweet, and you’ll remember that you’re not meat.” Delilah, my
older and crazy coworker, beamed at the latest confused customer to enter
the store.
“Sorry, what?” The blond guy in the Quiksilver board shorts was
obviously a tourist in Port Sunshine and wasn’t used to the eclectic ways of
pretty much all the locals. Charlotte’s Coffee Shop was the only local coffee
shop in the area. The city had banned all big, name-branded companies, so
everything in our quaint beach town was local.
The tourists loved our store because it made them feel like they’d
entered another world. As soon as you entered the store, you were greeted
with the sight of five different-colored surfboards covered with signatures.
One might think the signatures were from famous surfers who had passed
through town, but they were from the owner, who wanted to find a new cool
signature to sign our paychecks with.
The walls were painted turquoise and white, and huge rattan lampshades
hung from the ceiling. Then everything got weird. On the far side of the
coffee shop stood an almost life-size dollhouse with at least thirty Barbies
in different positions in the house and on the makeshift beach next to the
house.
“I said, ‘Welcome to Charlotte’s Coffee Shop, where the coffee is dark,
the—’” Delilah started up again, but this time in a deep Southern accent.
The doorbell rang, and Delilah let out a low whistle as she stared at our new
customer: a tall, attractive guy in a navy suit staring at his phone like he’d
just been emailed the secrets of the universe.
“Morning.” I stepped forward quickly before Delilah could repeat her
nonsensical welcome. Every day she had a new slogan that made no sense.
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