The Note Ch 01 04

1

RILEY

"Riley, change the trash!" Maxine, ordered as she peeked her head from the back office for her hourly pretend-like-she-had-a-job ritual. Riley groaned, eyes drifting to the half-full can sat beside the counter, hearing the office door close once again.

"It's barely half-full." He shot a disapproving glance to Georgia, who was bussing a table from one of the very few customers the cafe had seen all day. Georgia, a woman in her mid-thirties, pursed her lips and gave him a sarcastic grin.

"Why not just change it for the sake of changing it." She postulated, throwing a napkin and paper cup into the bag as she made her way to the sink with a plate the customer had used to eat an eclair in the messiest conceivable way. Riley sighed, pulling the sides of the bag up and beginning to tie it off as Georgia got to work rinsing off the plate.

"You know, today was supposed to be a good day." He shook his head.

"What made you think that?"

"I found two heads up pennies on the way to work."

"So?"

Riley looked to her in amazement. Finding a penny that was heads up was, by his estimation, one of the most basic and well-known symbols of good luck. He figured that Georgia, with her gambling addiction, would have known this. She wouldn't even foot a ladder if she had to stand under it if she had an active bet, which was most of the time.

"It's supposed to be good luck." He told her, throwing the clear plastic bag over his shoulder.

"It's one trash bag, Riley, don't be so dramatic."

"It's not just that. You know who I see walking down the street? Megan Hobel. My crush all through high school."

"Shouldn't that be a good thing?"

"No, Georgia, it's not. I'm twenty-four, I have a degree, and I work in her favorite coffee shop. Meaning I'll have to see her every day when she comes in on her way to her real job and serve her coffee."

Georgia just chuckled to herself, clearly seeing something in his rant that reminded her of some part of herself. That was why he liked Georgia. Neither of them belonged here, but both of them were stuck and it was their own damn fault.

"I'll bet you what's in the tip jar that your day gets better by the time you get off." Georgia half-joked as Riley made his way to the back. At the same moment he opened the back door, leading to the alley they kept the dumpster, the office opened again and Maxine peeked her pudgy head out the crack in the door angrily, venom seeping from her brown eyes.

"I just got off the phone with Katie, she's going to be late so you're going to have to stay till she gets here." Maxine announced, closing the door without further explanation. Once again, Riley groaned, looking back to Georgia with a half amused smile.

"I'll take you up on that." He nodded before stepping outside and marching over to the dumpster corral. He could feel the strong wind blow directly into the alley, blowing his hair in every direction but the ones he actually combed it in.

Great, bad hair day, too

. He thought to himself as he prepared to toss the bag into the can. The whole damn town was depressing him. He'd thought he'd be well on his way in some career, maybe even miss the place. But now he couldn't imagine ever missing a thing about it.

It was just too small a town for what he wanted to do.

Yeah

, he chided himself as the same old excuse drifted into his head.

Sitting at home jerking off. Totally need a bigger city for that, Riley.

At the end of the day, deep down, he knew it was all his own fault, anyway. He didn't achieve anything because he didn't try anything. Not that there was much point.

As he contemplated his depressing circumstances, he felt the wind take the trash bag just as he threw it, sending it flying behind the dumpster. His breath left his lungs in exasperation as he looked up to the sky, begging for an answer. Why him? Why today? Why did every bad thing have to happen all at once?

After another drawn out moment of self pity, he wedged himself between the dumpster and the wall. He couldn't help but find his own misery somewhat amusing as the scent of week old garbage wafted into his nose, another sorrow wanting to kick him while he was down.

"C'mon..." he grumbled, reaching for the bag, finally tugging it off the ground, only to see that it had landed on what appeared to be a journal. A nice one, too, with a clearly genuine leather cover. Straining himself a bit more, he reached down and pulled the journal off the floor, giving it a quick once over.

There was no mistaking it was hand made, though not in any way that was amateur. The leather was all purple, including the leather string that wrapped around its width to keep it closed. Otherwise the only identifying feature was the stamped goat head on the cover.

He tossed the trash into the bin and opened the journal to try and find a name or anything that might lead him to finding the owner. Judging by the cover, he figured it might belong to one of those crazy Wiccan, astrology, hot topic chicks, but knew that was likely wishful thinking. He was even more surprised to find each and every one of the pages entirely empty.

"Who the hell throws out a journal this nice?" He wondered aloud as he walked back into the cafe.

"Huh?" Georgia asked, sitting on the counter.

"Someone threw away an empty journal." He reiterated, tossing it onto the counter next to her.

"Told you your luck would change." She grinned, reaching for the $5.85 in the tip jar. Riley just casually grabbed her wrist, gently pulling it out of the glass and shaking his head.

"I don't think a journal's gonna be enough to turn this day around." He tisked, both of them looking at the purple journal.

"Well, with a journal you could start writing about how shitty today was maybe you'll feel better."

"Nah. I don't journal. I'm always afraid someone'll read it. Don't even know what I'd write."

"Dude you live alone." She rebuked, Riley flashing his brows with concession at least to that much. "My daughter says you just write what comes to mind and it helps organize your thoughts. Or at least stops them from keeping you up at night."

Riley considered it for a moment. Why not start journaling? He'd been looking for the big moment that'd fix his whole life and make everything come together. Maybe journaling could be that for him. Not to mention it was undoubtedly a nice journal.

"Say, actually, I think my daughter might actually be into this. I can take it off your hands for you—"

"Nah, you convinced me."

"Well, she hates my guts for one reason or another right now and a gift like this might get her to at least stop calling me a slut."

"Hate to say it, but her father raised a bitch."

Georgia laughed, pulling her brown hair out of her face and tying it back in a ponytail that made her look five years younger. Riley always wondered why she didn't just keep it that way. "Nah, I deserve it. Mostly." Her smile slowly faded, as if reliving something. "I'll rock paper scissors you for it." She offered, which brought a smile to his face.

"You know you shouldn't gamble, Georgia." He sarcastically chided her, swiping the book into his arms.

"Yeah, on the Packers game." She shot back.

"I'm not going to gamble on a book I already have possession of."

"You can have the tip jar if you win."

"I'm already getting that, too, because this day isn't going to get—"

"Katie in a tiny bikini!" Georgia slapped his chest with the back of her hand, staring out the front window.

"I'm not falling for—" his eyes, out of some perverted curiosity, drifted to the window for only a second.

If Georgia was the coolest, then Katie was the hottest employee at the cafe. Georgia and Riley had made quite a few bets over the years and after having lost one of them, Riley had been forced to rank how attractive he found everyone there for Georgia. So she knew that Katie— despite her annoying voice and bitchy attitude— was Riley's number one. Georgia knew exactly what to say to get Riley's attention.

And for once, she was telling the truth. Because sure as shit, closing the door to an oversized truck was Katie Bordeaux wearing a tiny blue bikini. Her tight body still somewhat dripping with water as her long legs aggressively stepped each flip flop towards the entrance. Katie didn't have curves to ogle at, but she was lean and even her RBF was objectively beautiful, framed by a damp bob.

Riley could not stop staring. He knew he should. He knew that he hated the gross way he appraised each feature. But it's hard to look away from beauty. "Looks like I'll be getting the tip jar." Georgia elbowed him, but he didn't look at her.

"Take it. I'm keeping the journal."

The bell rang and Riley just barely managed to push his eyes onto the register as Katie walked inside.

"Window's not tinted, I could see both of you weirdos staring." Katie scoffed, heading straight for the bathroom with her duffle.

"Yeah, waiting for you to clock on so Riley can go home."

"Whatever. I got held up at the gym. I'll get changed while Riley collects his jaw and leaves." She rolled her eyes, stomping into the bathroom and locking the door.

"Like she's not doing it for the attention." Georgia hopped back onto the counter. "See you tomorrow, Riley." She gave him a quick salute which he returned before clocking out, throwing his new journal into his backpack and jumping out the door to begin the short walk to his apartment.

Riley went on autopilot, replaying the moments of Katie walking up in his head. He tuned out the entire outside world as he walked, flipping back and forth between fighting against his gross thoughts and just reveling in them. He wished he was a different guy. Someone who could see a girl in a bikini and just move on with his day.

By the time he reached his apartment—a shitty two story brick building above a storage space— he'd managed to rally the strength to say enough was enough. As soon as he climbed the steps and unlocked his door, he decided he was gonna put that journal to good use and get all his gross thoughts out of his head.

His apartment was very much a bachelor pad. A small one bedroom with very old and second hand furniture. He was lucky to even have a bed frame even though his living room decor consisted of a futon full of laundry and an old tv atop a stack of old wood. He ignored the dish pile in the sink and cracked open his bedroom window to clear out the smell, throwing the journal onto his computer desk and pulling out his folding chair.

He stared at the page for a few minutes, pen just above the surface. He found himself frozen. He wanted to get all of his bad thoughts out onto the page, but he was overcome with a sense of dread that someone would read it and know. That someone was watching, judging, spreading the word. But he remembered Georgia's reminder that he lived alone. Nobody would ever know. The only thing this would change would be himself, and hopefully for the better. And so he wrote the first thing on his mind.

Katie Bordeaux came into work today wearing nothing but a micro bikini. It should become her new uniform, then the cafe might get a bit busier. She just loves showing her body off, even if she won't admit it and everyone likes looking.

He dropped the pen and rubbed his eyes in humiliation. That hadn't helped at all. Now he was just hard and he still felt gross. It had been a stupid idea. He was always just going to be a perverted loser. Why did he ever think he could change that, he wondered, turning on his PC and pushing the journal aside as he began prepping for yet another masturbation marathon.

The rest of his night was a blur. Watch porn, clean just enough dishes for a grilled cheese, watch more porn as the hours slipped on by him. It was basically his daily ritual. Before he knew it, it was already 4:00 am, at which point he forced himself to get to sleep.

2

CHANGES IN THE WORKPLACE

Riley awoke only three hours later to his phone buzzing non-stop underneath his pillow. Nobody ever called him, so he at first assumed it was a spam caller, waiting for the buzzing to stop so he could get back to sleep before his closing shift that day. But when it finally did, he felt his relief be swiped from him as it once again began feeling the strong buzzing beneath his pillow.

He grumbled and complained as he lifted his tired head from his pillow, yanking his phone out and looking at the caller ID. It was Georgia, but he had missed seven calls from the cafe, too. Confused, he answered, lying back down to enjoy what little rest he would be getting.

"Riley?"

"Hn?"

"Hey! We're super swamped, would you be able to come in and help? Markus is out of town."

"Call Anya."

"She's already here. It's her, me, Katie, and Maxine. Oscar and Sadie have school. That leaves you." She explained, sounding a bit frantic. He could hear people talking on the other side and even heard Maxine yelling out an order. "Look, tip jar's up to ten bucks a person right now. Can you please come in before Maxine makes her lack of planning our problem?"

"Fucking..." he rolled over and checked the time. He had about eight hours before his shift was supposed to start and could really use the sleep. But thirty bucks in tips after being open for only two hours spelled good things, on top of his $14.20 an hour. It'd probably exhaust him, but he had the next two days off to recover. He crunched the numbers and figured he could use two-hundred bucks given his credit card bill. Plus whatever the tips came out to. "Fine, I can be there in half an hour. Why the fuck is it so busy, anyways?"

"Awesome! You'll see when you get here." She hurriedly hung up the phone, leaving Riley to grapple with his decision. After a moment of relishing in the warmth of his bed, he lazily kicked off his blanket and started digging his discarded uniform from the floor and determining that it passed the sniff test, especially with a spray or six of cologne.

Within ten minutes he was dressed and ready to go, slamming an energy drink into his face on his way out the door, locking it behind him. He took the walk as a chance to wake up a little more.

Springland, Oregon was the epitome of small town America. He lived "downtown" which consisted of a strip of local mom and pops in tall buildings, which around here was three stories max. It didn't even stretch a mile before turning into residential areas. If it wasn't for the airport the town wouldn't've even existed, as the city of Benson was only half an hour drive away, which is where people had to go for most things they needed. Most of the stores in the town were just restaurants, a place for employees of the airport or travelers with extremely long layovers.

For half the year, the town was usually close to empty. Winter tended to be a bit busier because of the skiers and all the people pretending they were in hallmark movies given how idyllic the town looked with snow. Which made the sight of cars parked on the street near the cafe all the more surprising. There wasn't a line out the door or anything, but the shop was much busier than it usually was. He could eyeball maybe twenty or so people. The cafe was a small chain that was very big in the neighboring city and so was built to those specifications, meaning the building itself didn't have any issues accommodating. But given that they were used to the biggest rush being five people in an hour, this was well above the staff.

As he pushed into the door he found most of the tables taken by people and a small line at the register manned by Maxine as Georgia hurriedly prepared drinks behind the counter. He caught a glimpse of Anya's curly brown hair from the kitchen in the back. "Stevens, clock on and take over on register so I can help Anya in the back." Maxine called out to him as her pudgy fingers grabbed the money from one man.

Riley nodded, mentally preparing himself for the stress as he made his way to the break room and clocking in. He tied on his apron and slipped behind the counter, waiting for Maxine to finish the order. As he waited, he saw a row of drinks ready to be served sitting on the counter.

"You want me to deliver these?" He asked, looking to Georgia for guidance.

"No, Katie'll take them when she gets back from the bathroom."

"Ok..." He nodded, not really seeing the sense in waiting, especially since Katie's customer service was subpar, at best. "Why are we so busy?"

Georgia looked back to him with a wicked smile. "You'll see." She pointed his attention to the overflowing tip jar as another quarter fell into it.

The register shot open and back closed again as Maxine pushed Riley into her position forcefully before running to the kitchen. He drew a breath and started helping the next man in line. Riley's strong suit was customer service. He had developed all the jokes, knew all the lines to upsell people without making them aggravated. He had gotten so good that he got bored of it.

"Hey, what's up, my friend, you got a number with us?" He put himself on autopilot to conserve his energy for the rest of the day, knowing he'd go home utterly exhausted. He was so zoned out that he at first paid no mind to Katie as she casually shoved him out of the way, despite having plenty of room to just walk past him. But after a moment he realized that the man he was helping, along with just about everyone else, was looking at her.

As she stepped out in front of the counter with a tray of drinks, Riley froze in shock, eyes glued to Katie's ass, flossed by a green thong and covered by nothing else. She sauntered on over to a table of three girls and placed three frappes on their table, giving them an unenthused greeting before doing the same with another table. Even the girls turned to watch her ass, giggling and laughing with each other.

"Can I get my change?" The customer asked, snapping Riley back to where he was, holding onto the eleven dollars and some odd cents he'd just pulled from the register.

"Oh, uh, yeah." Riley shook his head, apologizing as he handed over the money. The man just smiled and turned his attention back to Katie, dropping his coins into the cup along with the one dollar bill. Riley turned to Georgia, having cleared the line. "What the fuck is happening?" He whispered, garnering a grin from Georgia.

"Yeah, new thing Corporate wants to try because we're underperforming. That's her uniform, now."

"How the fuck is that allowed?"

"Can you argue with the results?" Georgia asked, gesturing to Katie, who grabbed a few bucks that had been left on a table as a tip. The bikini was the company's signature green, with a white logo on each bra cup, a plastic name tag pinned to the strap of the right one.

Katie stepped to the counter, stuffing the money into the tip jar and giving both Riley and Georgia a disgusted look. "Can't believe I have to share these tips with you two fuck ups." She scoffed.

"All you're doing is handing them their drinks."

"Then you put your flabby ass in the bikini and do it, Mother-of-the-Year." Katie rolled her eyes, grabbing the next set of drinks from the counter and stepping away.

"How the hell did they convince her to do this?" Riley asked, watching as she delivered the drinks.

"Well, she didn't get a raise or anything, so I think she just loves showing off. Even if she won't admit it." Georgia shrugged. Riley's stomach sank and he was hit with a realization all at once absurd and terrifying.

'Even if she won't admit it'

was a line too familiar to him, as he'd written the exact same thing in the journal last night! Was this

his

doing?! Just some gross, passing thought that had been manifested into reality?