2007-02-08: Enter The New Guy


Elena_icon.gif Drake_icon.gif Rose_icon.gif

Summary: Covering for her fellow barrista, Elena ends up training the new hire at her Starbucks branch.

Date It Happened: February 8th, 2007

Enter the New Guy

Starbucks, Downtown NYC - Lower Manhattan

She was about to hang up her apron when a blonde teenager runs up to her, with big googly eyes. "Elly," Samantha "Sam" Jones pleads, her ice blue eyes wide. "I'm sorry I know you wanted to get off early today but I reeaaaaaaaaaaaaally can't stay today."

Elena pauses from hanging up her apron. Watching her fellow barrista for a moment, the 18 year old sighs and plants a hand on her hip, lowering her voice. "Is it Greg again?" she whispers. "Sam, you KNOW I can't keep covering for you, my Dad hates it when I stay late—"

"Pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaase? I'll work double on your Friday. That's when that big dance thing is, right? Now you can go!"

Elena hesitates. "Sam…"


"ARGH! I'm such a sucker," Elena groans. "Okay okay, I'll tell the boss." She's promptly hugged tightly by the blonde barrista, and she sighs. "Seriously. This West Side story thing you have going on with your A-list boytoy ought to be published. Maybe his agent can pitch the idea to him."

Sam laughs, hanging up her apron. "This is a secret, you know. Publishing kind of defeats the purpose."

"I know. If your love life gets turned into a movie, you better get Salma Hayek to play me," Elena says with a grin. "You go have fun."

"Bye, El!" And off she goes, just as she hears a -crash- from behind the counter.

"Argh! Elena, do you mind—?"

Elena GROANS. "I'll get the broom."

The bell hanging above the door of the Starbucks jingle lightly to reveal Drake as he makes his way in, wearing a broad smile on his face, and holding an orientation package against his chest. First day on the job, it seems for the mopped hair blonde boy. He takes in a deep breath, drinking in the scents of coffee, then allows his blue eyes to slowly drift along the many patrons who have gathered to watch the news, mingle, or cram reports in on their laptop computers. With a light clear of his throat, he peeks over the counter towards Elena, calling out. "Hey there.. I'm Drake Maxwell. I'm um.. the new guy… I'm a bit early. So.." He pauses. "What do I do?" He asks, giving a crooked grin upon his face.

What does he do? He gets the hell out of the way, that's what. Such are the thoughts racing through Rose's mind as she storms into the coffee shop, shouldering one patron when he didn't get through the door quick enough and narrowly avoiding a collision with another. There's a fabric guitar case strapped to her back, the strap lying crossways over her chest, which is not helping matters in the least. It's a mystery as to why she seems to be in such a rush to get inside, however, because once she's there, she steps to the side and peers at the menu behind the counter. For… several minutes, in fact, having to be asked to get out of the way at least twice before she even thinks she's ready to order.

There is a broom and a dustpan, and Elena looks up, blowing a dark lock of hair on her eyes. She stares at Drake for a moment, as if she's having a hard time processing what he's saying. Finally, she shakes her head. "Oh, right, sorry…I spaced out a minute. Elena Gomez," she sticks her hand out. "Our other barrista just bailed on a…." Romantic rendezvous with a Hollywood actor. "….family emergency. You think you can hit the ground running? Grab one of the aprons and stash your things at the back. You can get that one's order. I'm gonna be nice and -not- make you clean stuff on your first day." She winks, and dumps porcelain shards of a spent coffee mug and saucer into the trash.

Elena also gestures to Rose. Yes, newbie. She's sending you over to get your first order.

"I don't mind cleaning stuff. I do it around the house enough as it is." Drake says with a smile, narrowly missing the oncoming collision of Rose as he politely, and quickly moves out of the way. After rounding the counter and stashing his box of paperwork to the side, he snags himself up an apron that is probably way too big for him to be putting on. Alright, he can do this. It's just like using the demo terminals at the training office. "Evening, ma'am." He says, putting on that winning smile. "What can I get for you tonight?" His eyes instantly zip towards her guitar case, staring at it for a moment, before lifting upwards to focus on her eyes. Don't show fear, and they won't bite, right?

Wrong. Rose is the type to always bite, especially when it comes to the hand that feeds. She swings her head around to fix Drake with an almost suspicious look, her eyes narrowing. Silence ensues for several long, painful seconds. Finally, she flashes him a swift, fleeting smirk that can't be said to be particularly welcoming. "Non-fat, extra hot caramel macchiato. Grande." She all but waves a hand to shoo him out of the way, then steps up to the counter, stuffing a hand into her pocket to procure a beaten, tattered ten dollar bill.

"That'll be 5.75," Elena says, stepping up at the counter to ring up Rose's purchase. She takes the bill, gives the girl her change, and she gestures for Drake to follow her behind the counter. "The cups are here," she gestures to the rows lined up behind the cash register. "Get the size, grab that marker, check off the Non-fat box, the caramel box, mark it extra-hot and the actual type of beverage…" She shows him how to mark the right initials down on the white surface. "And then if we're busy and there's a line? Put it here." She sets it on the space reserved for lining up the cups according to order. "But since there's not a lot of people in tonight we can just take it straight to the machine. You ready to get your MacGyver on?"

Taking in a deep breath, Drake gulps slightly as Rose gives him the squinty customer look of death, then relaxes once she orders, and quickly follows after Elena, as if he was a lost puppy. "Cups, marker, check boxes. Gotcha." He says as he follows along, then gives his shoulders a bit of a roll. "Sure, I'm ready to start." He says, his voice lifting upwards happily, and eager to dive in. "Think she's in a band?" He asks softly to Elena. "I play guitar also." Scooping up the grande cup, he spins it around in his fingers until he finds the little boxes, then starts to make the proper swipes of his marker.

Whether or not she hears the question is debatable, as she doesn't interject; still, Rose flashes another look to Drake, just as skeptical as the first. The change is counted once, then counted a second time before she satisfies herself that it's right and shoves it back into her pocket. As she side-steps away from the cash, she drums her fingertips along the counter, watching Drake closely - very closely - as he prepares her drink. "You own a guitar?" she asks, her tone just faintly disbelieving.

"Hard to tell. It's New York. City that never sleeps. Land of fruits and nuts. Nation of corporate drones and artists. She could be part of a band, could be solo trying to make it, could be a music major at a local college. I see all sorts walk in here," Elena murmurs to Drake. "That's the good and bad part of the city, I think. You never really know just by looking at a person, no matter how logical your deductions are." She starts up the machine, and starts showing Drake what all the switches and buttons do. "And every time you make a new batch? Wipe off the spigot," she instructs. When the customer addresses Drake, she smiles over at the coffee padawan, patting him on the shoulder to let him field this question as she slips a heat insulator ring-thing on the extra hot caramel macchiato and hands it to Drake to give it to his customer.

With a slight grin to Elena, Drake takes the coffee and turns to Rose, handing it over to her. "I do. Saved up my money for two years, and I picked up a Gibson Hummingbird. It's an acoustic model. I fell in love with it when I saw Clapton performing with one awhile ago. It sings as well as he does." He says, rather proudly as he blows a bit of blonde hair away from his face. "It's my first, and only love. How about you?" He asks, shifting his eyes to her guitar case again. "Whatcha got?"

Rose is not particularly interested in the intricate details of how to make a macchiato, though Elena's musings on what kind of musician she might be do warrant a quiet, mostly suppressed snicker. Drake, on the other hand? While she wasn't really paying him all that much mind before, he certainly has her interest now. "Better," she corrects him, taking the drink into her hands. "Clapton's nothing without his hummingbird. It sings better than him." With one hand, she readjusts the strap of the case. "Gibson, but not vintage. J-185. Not as cool as a Hummingbird."

"I got mine at a pawn shop. It has a few years of love attached to it." Drake admits as he picks up a moist rag and starts to wipe down the counter, as if trying to come off somewhat productive. It is his first day after all, and even though there's no customers, he is sure the boss won't want him standing around. "So.. are you in a band, or just solo? I got a buddy at school who has a pair of drums and so we mess around once in awhile."

"Uh… solo, I guess," Rose replies somewhat noncomittally, accompanied by a shrug. She lifts the cup to her mouth for a sip of the drink and promptly burns her tongue, eliciting a scowl fit to kill, if only that were possible. "God, ow," she hisses, glowering at the drink as if it had burned her on purpose. "I'm not that great at the guitar. I mean, I don't suck or anything, but I could be better." Taking a more careful sip of her drink this time, avoiding any replays of what just happened, she adds, "You ever want some heavy strings in the mix, though, I'm your girl."

The smirk on her face persists as she tucks stray pieces of hair behind her ears, canting her head to the side. "They sure are, hot shot," she chirps in reply, her tone clearly conveying her amusement. "This isn't bad for your first day." She points a finger at the drink still held in her hand, taking a long sip of the drink as if to prove it. "I've had better," she adds, unwilling to let a compliment just be a compliment, "but it's not bad. Keep at it and you've got a real career in barrista-dom ahead of you." Arching her brows, she tips the cup towards him just slightly and heads away from the counter, leaving him to his work.

The new kid's making friends already. That's sweet. Elena glances over at both chatting on the other end of the counter and can't help but smile - just slightly. Unfortunately, her cellphone interrupts her thoughts. The ringtone…is Footloose. She frowns at the caller ID once she digs it out from the back pocket of her jeans, and then ignores it, stuffing it back down and wiping down the counters.

"Maybe one day I'll own this company, huh?" Drake says coyly after her as he leans his elbows on the counter, propping his chin in the palms of his hand. He looks completely amused, before giving his head a shake, and pushing off the counter. "Alright, Elena, now that I know I can't make a Macchiato to save my life, what else should we do?" He asks, becoming the eager beaver once again as he looks around the small area for things to do. "You want me to go wipe down some tables, and fill the napkin trays?" At least he's not a total dunce.

"Well you can start with wiping down those tables." Elena gestures to the end of the shop where the last two customers of the night are leaving (except Rose, of course, who is the only one left). "And then start sweeping the floor. And THEN, I'm going to teach you how to make a caramel macchiato to save your life. New York is a dangerous place at night, you know." She grins cheekily at Drake, and then moves to wipe down the spigot from the machine's earlier use. "There's a recipe book at the back of the counter. After you're done with everything else, you can start reading up on it."

"Yeah, I'd hate to be stabbed for botching up a Frap and a Macch." Drake says with a grin as he snags up another rag, letting it bounce back, and forth in his hands. "So, Elena, how long you worked here for?" He asks as he heads over to the directed tables, starting to wipe them down, and clear them of any debris that should be tossed in the trash. "I've always wanted to work in a Starbucks. I think they are just the coolest hangout spots, and figured I'd meet a lot of interesting people."

"Don't joke about that. This is New York. People get shot for a lot less than that." Elena looks over at Drake, smiling slightly. "Anyways, I think…I've been working here since junior year of High School. That was around two years ago? Three?" She shrugs. "Time passes by fast, really. I know I started over the summer, I just don't remember exactly when." She hangs up the rag neatly over a sink, and leans back against the counter, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you do. Yesterday I met this guy who looked like a bum, but who was actually some archaeologist with a visiting professorship at Cornell. And before that? A bunch of Clinton campaigners. Like everyone else in New York doesn't know she'll take the state in next year's primaries."

"Yeah.. I know they do." Drake says, his tone changing slightly as his lips tip downwards. His eyes drift off for a moment as he practically 'scrubs' the table with his moist rag for a moment, before trying to perk himself back up. "Clinton in office? My mom says we'll move to Canada if she gets elected." He says with a laugh. "I guess it's a good thing I'm a few years off from voting." He gives a sly smile. "You think she has a real chance?"

She laughs. "Papa says the same thing," Elena says, looking over at him with a grin. "Even if she's got huge support with the Latino voters. I don't know. Considering how much the economy sucks, I guess people can't help but remember that the government actually had a surplus when Bill Clinton was in office. That's not all that makes a president though. Between you and me, I'm rooting for the underdog…..Mr. Obama, I think? Then again I'm a little biased. I went to a rich school when I was younger. I did more for the school, and one year I ran for student body president….but I lost to the Headmaster's daughter." She shrugs. "It takes a lot to beat the status quo, but I'm hoping someone ends up doing that next year."

"I'm going for Obama also. He has a cool name. Barak." Drake says with a grin on his face. "Rich kid school, huh? I just go to the community one. Go Knights." He says with a twirl of his finger. "I'm on the soccer team, which is as cool as I can get I suppose. I don't think I'll have a career in that though. I'm hoping to attend NYU though myself, major in theater and music." He gives her a big smile. "Maybe get a rock band together, go on tour, make billions, the end up on VH1 twenty years later in one of those where are they now documentaries."

"Yeah. I just liked school growing up, I guess. My mom is….was….a school teacher." A far away look enters Elena's face as she starts mixing up a couple of cups of coffee - the smell of espresso shots wafting through the room as she does. "Education was very important to all of us. So I ended up getting this scholarship to this snooty school in Manhattan where everyone was rich and pretty. Kind of like the OC. Only in New York." She looks over at him and grins. "Sex, drugs, and rock and roll, huh? Just don't go the Milli Vanilli track, otherwise you'll just get ragged on by stand-up comedians everywhere."

Somewhere in the time where the two employees bond over politicians, Rose slips through the front door. She doesn't bother with good-byes, she simply tosses her empty cup into the garbage can and heads back out into the cold.

"No, no, I don't do the sex, or the drugs part. Just the rock-and-roll." Drake says with a smile on his face. "And I sing my own tunes." He flashes her a brilliant look. "Maybe one day you'll get to hear it. I've been told I put on a decent show." He rocks on his feet, then heads back to the counter to snag up the broom. "I'd love to get a scholarship, but so far I only have decent grades. I'm not much of a brain honestly."

She laughs. "Maybe. I like all kinds of music. Even country." Elena pauses at the last, before giving him a look. "Don't judge me." She grins at that, and sets down two cups on the counter now that the last customer has left. "The great thing about working here is you get free coffee. I'm sick of it now, though. So hot chocolate for me." She taptaptaps Drake's cup with a fingertip. "I put on shows myself….except I'm not a solo act and it's not really music. I go to NYU….I'm part of its Dance Corps, so we compete with a bunch of street teams all over. Anyways, here, newbie. Have a -real- caramel macchiato."

"Oh, so you daaaance?" Drake asks with a grin on his face as he sneaks around the counter, and taking the cup up in his hands, feeling it warm his palms. "I like to dance also. Hoping to maybe ask this girl out to the Home coming." He says, stubbing his sneaker against the tile.

"Yeah, I do," Elena says with a laugh. "Blows off steam. I'm pre-med, first year at NYU," she tells him. "And on full scholarship, so if I don't keep my grades up I'm screwed. Besides….from what my biology courses tell me, endorphins make you happy and exercise makes your body produce more of 'em. So I guess it keeps me from throwing myself off a roof from all the pressure." She takes a sip of her hot chocolate and sighs. "Though hot chocolate helps with that too. Mmmmm…..chocolate." She looks over at him and she grins. "Oh hoh, a giiiiiiirrrlfriiiiend?" she teases, much in the way he says 'daaaance'. "And I'm more into the solos for country. Tom Brandt. Kenny Chesley. And, of course, Johnny Cash."

"No, no, not a girlfriend. She's just this girl who's in my PE class. She plays for the girl's soccer team. Real nice. We've only talked like.. twice." Drake says with a flush on his cheeks as he shrugs his shoulders upwards. "She probably doesn't even know I exist." Rubbing the back of his neck, he takes a sample off the caramel cup, then licks his lips. "Not bad.. I can see why people pay 'bout four bucks for one of these." He squints his eyes at her. "I'd ask you to the dance if you went to my school." He teases.

"Awwwwww how cute, the newbie's bluuuussshiiiing," Elena teases him some more, grinning at him and taking another sip of her hot chocolate. She sets her cup down, and shuts off the coffee machine to save the shop a few bucks in electricity. "And I don't know. Girls are very aware of boys, I think. She probably knows you exist….knowing your -name- is another story though." But when he squints at her, she laughs and playfully throws a wadded paper towel ball at him. "Nice try, newbie. Though now that I know you're capable, you should direct all that dashing confidence on Ms. PE."

Drake catches the paper ball with a grin on his face. "Ha, it's one thing to tease a co worker, but actually ask out a girl is hard stuff. I get all goofy stupid around her sometimes." He shrugs his shoulders and deposits the wad in the garbage. "So, if girls are very aware of boys, how come they don't come right on up to them and ask 'em out?" He asks curiously. "It's not that easy for us these days you know." He lets out an exasperated breath. "These days, girls are all MTV and stuff, practically acting like guys themselves. It's like..so not an even playing field anymore."

"Don't ask me. I think it's because for the past several centuries, it was always up to the men." Elena leaps up just a bit on the counter and crosses her legs, picking up her cup and taking a sip of her hot chocolate. "Think about it. Back in the caveman days, they were probably clubbing women they like over the head and dragging them by the hair. Men wrote formal letters to fathers asking for their daughters's hands in marriage. Hell even when it -was- an arranged marriage, it was a contract brokered between the father in law to be and the father of the groom to be. It's only just recently, maybe a few decades ago, that girls are starting to realize that they -can- take the initiative to ask the guy out. But the 'old way' has been around for so long that most girls are just happy and willing for the guy to come up to them, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. Now these days, girls really don't have a problem in telling you to get lost." Drake chuckles as he squints his eyes a bit. "I've never asked a girl out yet, so, who knows.. the worst she can say is No, and if she does, I could always spend that Friday night doing homework." He pauses. "Or just getting some extra hours here." He grins a bit at her, finishing off his coffee. "So, what about you? Got a boyfriend who trips over his feet thinking 'bout you?" He asks, raising up a brow. "I bet you got a lot of guys asking you out, huh?"

"I think that's everybody. We're in New York. People around here aren't too friendly," Elena says with a grin, finishing her cup and taking his when he's done with it. She washes them both, and puts them on the rack to dry. Glancing over at him she grins, flashing him a thumbs up. "That's the spirit," she says encouragingly. "Besides, what do you have to lose? Winners go for what they want, and all that stuff." And at the last, she laughs. "No. In fact I haven't actually gone out on a date before. Papa's a little…..okay, he's crazy overprotective. I can't blame him though. Mama died a couple of years ago, so….he worries about me constantly."

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