"I'll work a shift," Matt told me. "But I'm not aproning-up until you caffeinate me."
"You want a single?" I asked.
"Make it a Red Eye."
The Red Eye aka "Shot in the Dark" was the barista's answer to the bartender's
boilermaker, a jolty combination of espresso poured into a cup of high-caffeine light
roast. It wasn't for the faint of heart. But then neither was my ex-husband.
A legend in the trade, Matteo Allegro was among the most talented coffee hunters in
the world, as comfortable on a yacht floating in Portofino as in a muddy Jeep flirting
with the edge of the Andes on Bolivia's infamous Death Road.
Adrenaline wasn't his only drug. During our marriage, he became addicted to cocaine
while partying too hard below the equator. I helped him kick that deadly habit but
failed to dent his other addiction-women.
Matt generated enough heat around the world's coffee belt to increase global warming,
which is why I made the mature decision to put our marriage on ice. Even so, his
behavior tonight seemed excessive. Who makes three dates in one night? And how
could Matt have possibly struck out on all of them?
The very idea was (I had to admit) amusing. Not that anyone's rejection deserved to be
mocked. On the contrary, I did my level best to suppress the surging wisecracks.
My raven-haired barista Esther, on the other hand, did not share my overactive
conscience. From her perch at the register, she propped a hand on her ample hip and
targeted Matt through her black-framed glasses.
"Did I hear right?" she asked. "The prince of passion was passed over? The sultan of
seduction shunned? The archduke of desire dumped?"