Gotta Love ‘Em

See, they know they’re absolutely attractive, charming, sexy, and entertaining when they walk in the door. And they know they’re at home because I’m their barista and they’re caffeine appreciators and they’ve lived in these mountains long enough to call it home now, which makes their drama at the coffeehouse counter that much more fitting.

“He wants a double latte on the rocks with a twist of orange and a shot of whiskey with a twist of lime and a splash of chocolate.” Eichleberger says, ordering for his friend Z-Lo – host of last week’s Teensy Party. “Oh, and make that a skinny.”

I’m already laughing, so really, they could stop at that. But Z-Lo is at attention now, peering from behind an overlarge pair of pimp sunglasses, which he has drawn slightly down his nose so that he can peer at me while he orders. His sweet boy face is framed just so by a faux sheepskin coat with a tan, suede outer fabric. “Actually, make that a double mochachino,” he says, winking at me over the counter and leaning in a little bit.

“A what?” I say, smiling.

“With a slice of lime,” Z-Lo says. Then to Eichleberger, “It’s lime baby, not orange. Oh and Yes!, do we want a sale bagel as well?”

The two men stand very close, hips touching and shoulders leaning. They are neighbors, fellow artists, and buddies. But still, their game amuses me, and I wonder about the intricacies of deep male friendships.

“Very funny guys but really –“

“No. Yes. No. I mean, yeah. A double iced mocha,” Z-Lo mocks a serious tone.

“And –“

“A double Americano,” I say, “Right Eichleberger?”

“Right.”