Trained by the Bikini Barista

I never thought I'd end up here, barely dressed, steaming milk behind a tiny coffee stand while cars lined up for their morning fix. At 20, scraping by as a college student, I was desperate for cash. My boyfriend, the slacker, had tossed out the idea of picking up a gig to cover rent, but he'd probably lose it if he knew this was the job I landed. Bikini barista. The words still felt foreign, like...