I hated Mondays. Always had, always would. I guess that’s how most people felt about that day of the week. In fact, I’d never met anyone who claimed to love it. And if I ever did, we could never be friends. Those were probably also the people known for saying, “Does someone have a case of the Mondays?”

And those people were what were wrong with the world, as far as I was concerned.

But I was in an extra grouchy mood this morning. My car was on its last breath of life and was running even worse today than usual, taking several tries to get started. It was a complete miracle that I had only been a few minutes late to work.

“Michelle, that man is still waiting on his coffee!” the assistant manager was yelling at me. Jack was only two years older than me, but apparently the job title on his name tag gave him the right to treat me like a seven year old.

The coffee shop was packed. Everyone was in a hurry to start their work week off with a proper dosage of caffeine. I was supposed to work miracles and make their drinks in record time. Despite the fact that it was six o’clock in the morning, and I’d gotten a grand total of five and a half hours of sleep.

All of these people were in a typical Monday mood, and I was the lucky person who got to deal with them. I handed the man his drink. Without saying thank-you, he took a sip and started to walk away. I braced myself, knowing instantly that I was about to get an earful.

“I asked for skim milk! This tastes like two percent!”

“Sir, I can assure you, that is skim milk. I made the drink myself.”

“You think I can’t tell the difference?”

He handed it back. I took it, turning my back on him and fumbling with everything on the counter. I went ahead and worked on a Chai that the young woman had ordered in line behind him. I turned around and handed him his drink.

He took another sip and nodded, satisfied. Without a glance in my direction, he left the shop.

You think I can’t tell the difference? I could hear him saying. Apparently not, since I’d given the jerk his exact same drink back. Smiling, I handed over the Chai and turned to the next customer. If Jack had seen me do that, I would’ve been reprimanded. But he was busy being useless and supervising some members of the staff instead of actually pitching in; he hadn’t noticed anything.

The morning slowly ticked by. Finally there was a lull in the business. I took the opportunity to sit down for a minute by the window, resting my head on my hands and closing my eyes for a few seconds.

“Michelle.” I despised the way that he said my name.

“What Jack?”

“I need you to refill the cart with more straws and sugar packets.”

“Okay, I’ll do it in a minute.”

“I’m not paying you to sit on your butt. Now.” Without another word, he walked away. He had dark hair and eyes, with a tall, lean body. He might’ve been attractive if it wasn’t for the stern look permanently etched onto his face. Two other employees were chatting behind the register. I wondered why he hadn’t asked either of them, but deep down I knew. Jack didn’t like me. He never had and he never would.

Which pissed me off to no end. I wasn’t perfect by any means, but I worked hard. Aside from today, I was rarely late. I was constantly taking others’ shifts because I needed the paycheck. I was the fastest making every kind of drink. When there was a lot of business, I’d even stay late.

Again because I needed the paycheck. But nevertheless, when this place was running smoothly, it was usually thanks to me.

I did as I was told and even pushed some chairs back under their tables to make the place look neater. There was a display in the front window with different coffee cups and mugs we sold. I rearranged them every week or so since we had a lot of daily customers. It was nice to have something different to look at. I was placing the last coffee cup in its place when I turned and saw Jack sitting at a table, sipping on a drink he’d made for himself.

It took every ounce of willpower I had not to throw the mug at him.

He was extremely lucky that the door opened and at that moment we had more customers come in. There were too many witnesses to kill him now.

I rushed behind the counter, knowing that Jack was incompetent and that the other two employees, a boy and a girl, both high school age, would waste a minute or two deciding on who was going to help them.

I was facing two guys. They looked vaguely familiar, so I assumed they had been here before, although I couldn’t remember when. One was shorter, with brownish-blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He was smiling in a friendly sort of way. Obviously no one had broken the news to him of what day of the week it was.

The other was looking at the drink specials: slightly taller, wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses. He had dark facial hair, neatly trimmed into a mustache and beard. His arms were covered in tattoos.

I rolled my eyes. He obviously considered himself some kind of bad boy.

“Hi, could I have a large iced tea,” the blondish one said, still smiling.

“Sure thing,” I said, opening the cash register and handing him his change. I turned to the high school girl and relayed the order—I think her name was Cindy. Or Mindy.

Wendy?

Something to that effect.

Turning back to the bad boy, I waited for his decision.

He turned from the specials, looking at me for the first time. A flirtatious grin covered his face. “Well, hello. Can I get a medium frappe?”

I simply nodded and waited for him to swipe his card. The high school boy—Robert, or some name that started with an “r”—was chatting with Wendy… no, it was definitely Mindy. What kind a name was Mindy? Sounded like a poodle.

I made his drink myself.

“Worked here long?” he leaned against the counter.

“Long enough,” I responded, uninterested in small talk.

I could tell his eyes widened under his sunglasses, his eyebrows lifting a little bit. Jack was sitting at the table glaring at me.

“Mondays probably really suck here, don’t they?” he asked.

Okay, I had to give him that one. Laughing slightly, I agreed. I grabbed the finished iced tea from Mindy, who was preoccupied with talking about prom with the boy who was possibly named Robert and handed it to the first guy.

“Thank-you,” he said amiably.

Then I grabbed the Frappuccino and handed it to the second.

“Thanks, babe.”

Babe? He’d just lost his brownie point from recognizing how long my morning had been already. And it wasn’t even lunch time yet.

He smiled and I returned with a forced, “I have to because I work here” smile.

I knew his type. And I wanted as little contact with him as possible. Although hoping they’d been getting these drinks to go, they sat down at a table by the front window. The fair-haired one was ripping open sugar packets and pouring them into his tea.

I started wiping the counters, knowing that Jack would just complain again if he saw me idle.

I could hear the other one laughing.

“I think you got enough sugar there, Rok.”

Rock? What kind of a name was that? I thought again of the one’s tattoos. Maybe they were in a gang or something. The idea made me laugh. Jack gave me a strange look. I ignored him and kept wiping the counter.

“Nah, man. Not enough places have sweet tea here. If you were from the south, you would understand.”

“Last I checked, Florida was south of Kentucky.”

“But it’s still not the south. You just don’t understand,” I could hear the ice cubes in “Rock’s” drink swish as he continued to stir. He took a sip, dramatically smacking his lips together afterwards. “Now that is what tea is supposed to taste like. Well, not really. If you don’t add the sugar at the right time then there’s only so much damage control you can manage.”

“So how do you think it’s going today?”

“It’s definitely weird.”

“I haven’t even talked to him in several weeks.”

“Me, neither. Although my mom says he’s doing okay. I’m still… I don’t know,” he took another sip of his tea.

I looked up to see the other nodding and take a sip of his frappe.

“Michelle,” Jack waved his hand in front of my face.

I’d accidentally stopped wiping the counter, choosing instead to listen to their conversation. It didn’t take much to distract me from this job. To my dismay, though, he’d said my name loud enough for the two guys to hear. My face reddened some as Jack continued.

“Time is money. You shouldn’t be standing here, daydreaming.”

I hoped they wouldn’t realize that I was eavesdropping. It was still humiliating to be berated in front of customers though. I opened my mouth to yell at him, but I managed to take a deep breath and keep my temper in check. If I pushed him over the limit, I might lose the raise I’d gotten a few weeks ago.

What a day, I thought. I wondered if guys suffered from their own form of PMS because he was extra bossy today. I looked at the clock, as he went to chat with the high school students.

My lunch break was coming up. That was something.

“Dude,” someone walked in, college student aged. He looked like a skateboarder, with shaggy hair, baggy pants and a hat slightly askew. One of his sneakers was untied. “There’s a car on fire!”

“Cool!” Robert responded, grabbing Mindy’s hand and heading towards the front door.

My heart sunk. I just had a bad feeling.

“What’s the car look like?”

“Uhh…” he thought about it for a second. “I don’t know. It’s blue. Parked around back.”

“Oh no,” I breathed, ripping my apron off and throwing it on a table and I cut Robert and Mindy off, running out the door.

I was already standing next to my car when they came outside. Jack, Mindy, the skateboarder, and the two customers were following them.

The smoke was billowing out from under my hood.