It had been two months into the second semester, and he had already mentally checked out.
Physically, Brandin Milton was at the top of his game. He had the stamina to pull and all-nighter videogame session with his homies and still make it five minutes late to his nine a.m. Bio lab. However, he was beginning to think that his nightly activities were taking a toll on his concentration. First semester was laughable with it is Welcome to College 101 classes and History of Music that he took on a whim. The current semester was showing its true strength when he choose to major in computer science three months prior. Brandin was slammed with countless science and math classes ranging from physics, biology, and trigonometry, the bane of his existence.
Brandin sighed as he rubbed his eyes underneath his glasses and stared out the café window to let his thoughts wander. For the first hour that he had been there, he tried his best to catch up on his assigned coding homework and was admittedly making good progress. However, by the time he had moved on to trig, he realized that everything in his three-hundred-dollar textbook looked like Chinese to him. He blew another breath and focused on the window in front of him instead.
The Green Daily was a coffee shop located five minutes away in from North Carolina A&T University’s campus. Adjacent rom the shop were the essentials of a barbershop, twenty-four seven market and mixture of local restaurants. The café itself was established in 1961 in admiration of the Greensboro Four’s sit-in protest. Green Daily was a place for the university patrons to enjoy a freshly brewed cup of coffee without discrimination. Of course, this practiced was viewed as ludicrous and met with fierce opposition in the beginning. However, after the coffee shop proved to improve relations as a neutral spot in the community, it was viewed as a local hangout spot for all to enjoy.
Currently, the Green Daily was still considered a local hangout spot for college students but not the go to spot like in the past. The influx of house parties, nightclubs and bars quickly overcame the niche grindhouse’s throne. Of course, the coffee house was way more atmospheric than the school’s library and had better food then the cafeteria. It had also undergone a major renovation in the early 90’s and second one in the late 2000’s. The once standard grade Green Daily was transformed into a coffee shop with sleek laminate floors, a Baltic brown countertop near the front that seated four stools each, and white oak table tops that could house fifty patrons at once. The building itself had been rebricked as well that housed a pseudo gallery of artwork from the Fine Arts department at school ad a small section of outdoor seating in the back.
Coincidentally, it was also considered a famous urban legend of matching patrons with their soul mates. Brandin’s parents would not stop gushing about their first meeting while Brandin snuck sly looks at the gorgeous women on campus. Although Brandin hardly believed in things like legends or superstitions, he could not help fantasizing about meeting a life partner in a local coffee shop. To think that some random women would waltz in while he was struggling with tangents, sines and cosines and strike up a conversation was delusional at best.
Brandin figured he would stick with his unauthorized people watching and let his brain go drunk on unfilled daydreams. It was a shame to admit but Brandin’s confidence was remarkably low after having a terrible dating life in high school. His looks were thankfully not the biggest factor against him with his curly black hair, brown skin complexion and tall frame that was more height than muscle. Brandin’s teeth were straight thanks to two years of braces and his skin was pimple free throughout his high school career. His biggest flaw, however, was his poor eyesight. He was a proud owner of glasses since kindergarten and left him with the unsavory nickname of Owl Boy. Due to his type of prescription, Brandin was normally stuck with glasses that had the frames the size of dinner plates that made his pupils comparative to his avian counterpart. This visual defect along with his reluctant fear of contact lenses led to one temporary relationship in high school that upheld for a lofty three weeks. The girl at the time made up an excuse of dealing with family matters but Brandin knew it was because of his reputation.
Regardless of the past, Brandin was certainly hopeful for the future. A new town along with a new crowd was the perfect opportunity to make a good first impression with the opposite sex. With any luck, maybe they would find his dinner plate glasses charming. Or maybe he would repeat the same path as his high school run. Either way, daydreaming about pretty girls would have to wait in front of the mountain that was his Trigonometry 101 homework.
Just as Brandin returned to his laptop to understand the sohcahtoa relationships, the front door had opened. The bell had sounded the entry of another patron that Brandin ignored at first because he sensed that he was close to a revelation. Then the smell of cinnamon overpowered his nose. Compelled to finally look up, Brandin’s thoughts went from complicated math to astonishment.
Across from his window seat standing at the corner was a young woman that made him thankful for taking the trip to the historic cafe. Her skin was a shade over brown and she sported a half-braided hairstyle with her curly dark brown afro overtaking her left side. Paired with her thrilling hairstyle was her untamed outfit of a white midriff shirt matched with ripped black jeans. Brandin was barely able to make out the midriff of her shirt due to a large purple gym bag strapped draped across her shoulders. Even with the bag distorting his view, he could catch a glimpse of her slender waist as she ordered from the front register.
Brandin was completely left in disbelief. He knew he was staring longer than needed but the sight of this unknown beauty was too much for him to look away. He felt like he won an unknown lottery with her presence alone. As if to reward his elongated gazing, the woman took a seat two tables across from Brandin. Looking at her face alone was almost enough to put the newly sophomore into a coma. Her face oval face was completed with her ample lips applied with a pale lavender lipstick. Part of her forehead was covered by her curly afro that she brushed away with her appropriately plum-colored fingernails. The final nail in the coffin was her loose white midriff t-shirt that he saw earlier sported a largely bold “S” with three other symbols that cleverly censored the foul word.
Brandin always struggled with answering if he had a type for the longest time. Most girls in his high school were either cute or extremely pretty. Yet none have ever matched his preference of the unruly. A woman that had an untamed style and wielded it like she was proving that she was automatically the coolest person in the room. At the current time, Brandin thought she proved her point.
Gawking like this at a stranger was completely rude yet he could not stop. Brandin kept glossing over new details to further pique his interest. However, he was interrupted by the front store bell once again that caused the woman to turn her head. Brandin immediately looked down and silently prayed that he had not been caught. Instead of sudden punishment, the customer that had walked in began loudly greeting the mystery girl in a noticeable Southern accent.
“Well I’ll be! You weren’t kidding when you said you were punctual, Ms. Withers.”
Brandin found the courage to peek at the source of the accent and found a tall white man with golden hair, blue jeans and jean jacket combo completed with a white cowboy hat and more rings on his fingers to rival star athletes. The cowboy strolled past the counter and sat down across Brandin’s newfound crush blocking his view.
Ms. Withers. To Brandin it sounded like a name that held a local lineage in the southern parts of the state of North Carolina. Or maybe that he was reading to far into it because he was more interested on the sound of her voice. Would she respond in a gentle Southern accent or perhaps a Deep South variant that was like his father’s side of the family?
His curiosity was ultimately cut short by the shop’s front door swinging open. This time however, instead of a single patron there was a mob of eight college girls occupying the front counter. The group had no intention of quietly conversing about their upcoming plans that it hindered Brandin’s ability to hear Ms. Withers’ conversation. He occasionally saw her mouth working yet it was overpowered by the Frappuccino orders at the front.
Brandin was beginning to believe he had become dangerously obsessive about this mysterious woman. In the span of five minutes, he had gone from a bumbling scholar to a bumbling lurker. In a chance to save some ounce of his tarnished study session, he tried to look at the math book one last time. Brandin glanced at one syllable and immediately turned his attention back to Ms. Withers due to the incredibly strange item placed on her table. On the table was a small Troll doll with neon pink hair protruding from its head. Judging from the booming laugh, the cowboy was overjoyed at the sight of the vintage doll.
Before Brandin could question the nature of the interaction, the man reached into his jean jacket and produce an incredible amount of cash. Thumbing through the huge wad of cash, he immediately drew two bills that resembled Benjamin Franklin’s famous portrait and handed it over to Ms. Withers. The Jean Cowboy stood up and thanked the mystery girl and made his way out of the coffee shop.
After the transaction had been completed, Brandin was more curious than a 16th century explorer. He pieced together that the Troll doll came from her gym bag but that amount of money was crazy. Especially to a college kid who relied on the school refund and his parent’s sparse donations. Over the course of the next hour, he found that Ms. Withers was selling all sorts of niche items out of her portable inventory. Matryoshka Dolls to an older black woman, an eighties style Pepsi key chain to an art student and a vintage Diana Ross vinyl to a gay couple.
Each deal left Brandin more interested than the last. By then, to make it less obvious that he was spying on her, he ordered another cup and made some progress on his studying. He never got to properly hear her voice, however. He strained to hear her voice a couple of times yet was drowned out by the large group that had entered before. At this rate, Brandin figured he would casually stay in her presence for the next thirty minutes before heading back to the dorms. Those RPGs that he put twenty hours into were not going to beat themselves.
After making his resolve, however, the mob of females decided to leave the shop. At the same time, Ms. Withers had finished another sale in the form of a classic VHS tape of Roseanne. Brandin then realized that it was just him, his crush and the sole employee that was preoccupied with their phone. Brandin never considered himself religious yet this timing was clearly the work of a higher power. An opportunity like this meant that he would have to muster up his tiny amount of confidence and speak to her. He racked his brain for possible ice breakers but was coming up on empty like his cup. How were you supposed to talk to someone that was everything that you wanted but at the same time unobtainable? He made up his mind to quit his delusions and just head out until he glanced over.
He was not sure how long his mystery crush was looking at Brandin but he had certainly wished he looked over sooner. Something about her stare did not cause him initial panic after being caught. He was uncertain if the calming aura was coming from the sunlight seeping through the glass or how the same light made the woman glow. Either way, Brandin found himself aware of his heartbeat in his ears as he held eye contact. Judging from her neutral expression, Ms. Withers was probing Brandin’s appearance not out of disgust but of interest. It was a new feeling to have a woman look at him so intently rather than glance him over like he was the pavement. An entirely new feeling overcame him when he found her smiling at him.
He had heard countless of time that men were simple, but this was ridiculous. A genuine smile with the sunlight reflects her clean skin and curly afro made Brandin’s heart freeze on the spot. His brain however, simply made up its mind to go and talk to her.
Preparing to leave his window seat, the front door’s bell jolted his resolve as he jumped at the sound. In his defense, the door was propelled open by a large dark figure that blocked the incoming light. The café employee, Withers and Brandin turned to see a giant dark skin man in a black wife beater and gray jeans appear at the doorway. His large Timberland boots stomped across the wood floor past the nervous employee and right in front of Ms. Withers. He stood slightly off to the side giving Brandin a chance to see the scowling look on the man’s daunting face. Considering his imposing tattooed covered muscles and clenched fists, the large man was in no mood for coffee.
His baritone voice started with, “You the girl from online?”
Brandin realized he was holding his breath as he awaited her response. “You got eyes dontcha?”
Brandin found himself exhaling finding that he was sastified with finally hearing his mystery woman talk. It had the Southern charm to it and was smokey from the sass that had been delivered. Brandin only imagine that a man his size did not take sarcasm lying down.
As if on cue, the man responded, “Yeah I got eyes little girl. And I can see when I’m being played.”
“Sir,” Ms. Withers sighed to professionally address the client, “I understand that you think you bought counterfeit basketball cards, but I assure you, they’re real.”
Brandin caught on to the larger man’s agitation as he raised his voice, “And I’m tell you, these cards fake! Faker than the bags they sell downtown. I had my boy look at these cards and he said they ain’t the real deal. Now, I want my money, or you gonna have a problem.”
This situation was beyond scary for Brandin who rarely engaged in confrontation. He knew the man had to be bluffing about causing problems, yet the university area was not exactly known for its peaceful solutions. Brandin felt an urge to intervene but was conflicted on moving forward. This was not exactly a type of situation where he could overpower the towering man with his absence of any self-defense skills. And he could not leave Ms. Withers alone to fend for herself, although she probably could with her glare that could stop a raging bull in its tracks. Brandin’s options were to either step in or play ignorance to the scene in front of him. For the first time since high school, he gathered his courage and approached the woman.
Brandin coughed into his fist and said, “Excuse me, you’re Ms. Withers, right?” Brandin’s voice was not as near as deep as the hostile client but it was low and firm enough to garner their attention.
The way her face contorted in annoyance almost made Brandin crawl back to his seat. His determination got the better of him, however, and he pressed on with his act. “I wanted to thank you for letting me buy that item off you. Ms. Withers here definitely knows were to get the quality stuff from,” he finished with a nervous chuckle to address the other man.
The man squinted his eyes at him and for a minute, Brandin thought he was going to take a bite out of him. “Man, I don’t care about whatever the hell you bought from her. I want my money back from those fake ass cards she gave me.”
“That just can’t be right though,” Brandin double down. “I’ve been a long-time client for Ms. Withers and found her inventory always coming in the clutch. In fact, I bought a NES system to play some OG games from the eighties and it runs smoother than my PlayStation 4.”
Ms. Withers face was still had a look of confusion for Brandin’s arrival. It was when Brandin broke eye contact from the man in front of him to look in her direction for a moment. Her eyes widen in surprise and her features soften as she slowly got the pictured.
“Sir, I think we can settle this rather simply.” She reached into her gym bag on the seat next to her and pulled out a purple and black stripped wallet. “How about you return my cards to me and I refund you. If I recall, you paid three hundred in cash.” To make good on her, Ms. Withers pulled three Franklins from the wallet and set them on the table. “Also, to sweeten the deal and to make sure you never come to me again,” she placed another large bill onto the table to emphasize her point.
Both Brandin and Withers saw the larger man’s brain working. His eyes switched from the two of them and finally closed his eyes as he made his resolve. The man pulled out a plastic sandwich bag and tossed it on the table. He counted the money on in front of Ms. Withers and made his way to the door.
“Pleasure doing business with you, sir. Have a good day,” Ms. Withers goaded before the lot induvial looked back in annoyance and walked out to the parking lot.
Brandin himself was stunned. He was uncertain if he was surprised that everything had gone smoothly or by his actions. He felt some sort of high before he finally remembered why he came over in the first place.
“Hey, so… Are you okay?”
Ms. Withers had a slightly irritated look on her oval face as she examined the cards from the pack. “Could be better. I don’t take too kindly to be talked down to like that.” She finished her examination and dropped the cards into her gym bag as she stood up. “At least he didn’t crease the cards or nothing. I would have been really hot by then.”
“Right, right,” Brandin answered without the expertise of how selling sports cards worked. “At least you’ll get a profit, right? I mean, aren’t the cards worthless once you take them out of the pack.”
“I can see how you can think that. As long as the condition of the card is good, then I can always sell it. Besides, my family bought a ton of old cards for about six thousand in value. This wouldn’t even cover a ten percent loss.”
Brandin eyes went open out of amazement. “Wow, you know your stuff alright.”
“Well, I most certainly do. I sort of have to in order to keep working at my family’s antique shop. I am their top saleswoman out of the four of us that run it, after all. And if I learned anything as my time as lead saleswoman, I know for a fact that idiot took these cards to the nearest pawn shop and got a bad rate. Jokers like these tend to pop up trying to resell the cards but they don’t know where to look like my family knows how to look.”
No wonder she holds herself with such poise, Brandin thought. For a moment, he did not say anything in return and was lost in admiration for Ms. Withers. He came back to reality however, when he realized that she was smiling that authentic smile at him. The type of smile to sell whatever ancient artifact for her family’s business.
Sensing the growing silence between them, she asked, “And just who are you anyway? You don’t look like no longtime client of mines.”
“Oh,” He chuckled, “I’m uh, um, Brandin Milton.”
“Brandin Milton, huh?” She smirked and said, “Do you always introduce yourself with your first name and last name? You some sort of spy?”
In a rare moment of cleverness, Brandin answered, “Why yes ma’am. I work for the CIA and was sent to gather intelligence on you. We heard about your last name but never caught you first, miss…”
For a second, he wanted to immediately take back his sentence and leave his stuff behind. What kind of idiot makes a joke about being a secret agent besides wannabe pick up artists? Much to his disbelief, the woman responded, “Ms. Lula Withers.” She offered her hand and a smile.
Brandin immediately motioned his hand to meet hers for a handshake. He hung on her hand out of shock from how soft her palms and fingers were. Lula gave a firm shake but also had the texture of silk when Brandin squeezed in returned. He may have held on a second too long as he realized that he was staring at her dumbfounded.
“Ahh, sorry about that,” Brandin nervously laughed as he pulled his hand back.
“It’s no big deal,” Lula giggled again. A type of giggle that would surely keep him awake with the soft echo it produced. “Well Mr. Secret Agent Brandin Milton, what kind of dirt were you suppose to get on me?”
At first, he thought to keep playing along with their bit and suggest that he was going to bring her in for possession of narcotics. He was dissuaded by the technicality of the joke because of her eyes. Something in her almond shaped, hazel eyes signaled him to tell the truth. Never had he looked at someone in his entire life and wanted to be completely honest with his feelings. It was like she had a strange godly power over his senses that compelled him to tell her anything that she wanted to know. In fact, he would gladly give in anything to her gaze.
“Well, surveillance really. I, uh, wanted to get to know you more. To see you more. I wanted to see you here or other places like restaurants, book fairs or anywhere really. We would check out other antique stores for you to get an idea for merchandise or check out local spots around the city. If I’m being honest, I want to have you around because I think you will make my life more enjoyable.”
Brandin’s declaration stunned Lula at first. Neither of the two said a word as Lula’s eyes widened in shock. Then, she made a face before throwing her head to the side as she laughed. At first, Brandin felt his body clench in sudden embarrassment. He had sinking feeling that he should have clarified making his school life more enjoyable than his actual life. After all of that, were his honest feelings about to be rejected? In front of the one employee that was working here? He would have to change coffee shops. Or a better option, flee the country and change his name to escape the humiliating heat stinging his body.
Thankfully, after hear Lula’s laugh for a beat more, he found that it was not a condescending laugh. It had the pitch of the type of laugh that was genuinely amused. He was nervous all the same to call his gambit successful. He braced himself as Lula stopped laughing and cleared her throat.
“You know what? I thought you were gonna say a cheesy line like, ‘Darling, I got strict orders to get your phone number.’” The idea made her laugh again and even Brandin found himself cracking a smile as well. “I rarely meet someone genuine like that.”
Lula stood to stow her money box into her sack and stood to heave her merchandise over her soldier. She casually held out her hand to Brandin as she turned around and said, “phone.”
A second passed before Branin caught on that she clearly meant his cellphone. He was able to find his smartphone after the second try and handed the device to Lula. He watched her silky fingers work the digits into his cell and handed the phone back to Brandin after she was finished. Lula walked past Brandin and opened the door ready to exit the cafe. However, she did take a moment to speak to him in a sweetened manner.
“I’ll be seeing you, Mr. Secret Agent.”
Brandin was not sure how long he had stood there holding his phone in his hands. It felt like he was the only person in the world that could connect with his feelings of pure bliss. He commanded his head to gaze down to make sure that the phone number was still in place. After seeing the ten-digit code with Lula’s name displayed at the top, Brandin may have smiled the biggest smile in the history of Green Daily.
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