Life's a Beach

“One Iced Caramel Macchiato for, uh, Myo?”

Unfortunately for Jules, he was a part of that problem of perpetuating the stereotype of “cafe barista who can’t spell (or pronounce) to save their life”. It didn’t help that even if they were in an air conditioned food truck, the heat of the summer was constantly whipping his face. Whenever he turned back to the two workers he hired just for this specific month, he wouldn’t be surprised if they thought he was melting.

“How’s the Java Chip Frappucino coming along, Gris?”

“J-just putting on the finishing touches, boss!”

“Please actually have some chips on it instead of eating it…”

Jules knew that he took on a risk hiring a gluttony bun, but it wasn’t like he wanted to discriminate, and actually the curly lad was quite good at the job otherwise. Save for perhaps a handful of spillages throughout their working together in the food truck, he had been responsible enough to clean after himself and for others too, if he was already holding the equipment. Jules did have to account for additional costs in stock ingredients though, since they were disappearing quicker with him around.

“And the Iced White Chocolate Mocha?”

“Here it is!” Milk placed it on the counter, ready for Jules to serve. The milk-colored bun was arguably the more experienced out of the two, also owing to the fact that she also had experience with mixing cocktails and such. She was also a gluttony bun, which was also why his ingredient stores were getting depleted, but as far as Jules is concerned, he hadn’t been able to catch her eating on the job. Maybe she was just better at hiding it? Oh well.

“Great, here’s the next order.” he handed her the piece of paper where he had quickly scribbled what the customer had blabbered. “There’s three drinks in this one.”

“Got it!”

He turned back to the open window.

“One Iced White Chocolate Mocha for…Meh-leh-a?”

There was no bun that approached. Jules put the drink on the side as he took another order and got the drinks from Milk and Gris. After two minutes, he called out the name again, trying out a different pronunciation (mostly because he already forgot how it was originally pronounced, and his scrawl on the piece of paper was not helpful). Still, there was no one who noticeably moved to the van.

A couple minutes passed and the drink looked depressed that no one claimed it. Condensation clung and dripped from the plastic cup, and seeing it melt made Jules nervous, almost like he was melting with the cup.

“I’m going out.”

“Oh?” Milk raised her head after finishing washing a measuring cup. “Don’t become a puddle out there! Will be hard to put you back together from the sand.”

“Ha-ha.”

He grabbed the drink and squeezed past Gris, who was taking a little bit of a break by munching on some of the dark chocolate chips. “Gris, take over the counter for a bit.”

“H-huh?! Me, talking to customers? Oh no…”

“You can do it, and it’s just for a few minutes!”

Opening the side door was hellish, but he then stepped out onto the asphalt, which felt like it wanted to burn him. He quickly walked to the shaded parts of the sand, drink still in hand; his eyebrows furrowing as he looked around for a bun that he vaguely remembered seeing a couple of minutes ago. He called the name again, hoping for a response, but all he got were swift, curious glances from passerbuns.

He sent a text message to the group chat with Milk and Gris.

"Any luck?"

On the screen, Gris was typing something, but eventually he settled on a sticker that had a bun doing an X with their arms. Milk then sent a GIF of an Imp shaking their head.

Jules sighed, almost tempted to sit on the sand. The drink was already several minutes old at this point, and it looked like a sogged mess. It seemed better to just make a new one if the bun ever showed up. Maybe they forgot or had some urgent business?

"I’m taking a drink break."

It was Gris who responded first. "You do that, boss!"

"I didn’t say we."

Gris then sent a crying Imp sticker. Milk followed with a "there there" sticker.

He shook his head and opened the paper that held the straw. Poking the container, he took some sips of the still slightly chilled drink.

Ah, he didn’t even like white chocolate.