Better latte than never, p.4
Better Latte Than Never, page 4
He finally gave in and asked the dark-haired teen about Enzo. “I guess that surprise party scared that young man away.”
She laughed as she refilled his coffee—cup number four! “You mean my cousin, Enzo?”
“Him, yes. That was a very nice thing you did for him, throwing that party.” Finn held out his hand. If he had decided he was going to be a regular, he might as well start to get to know the other staff. “I’m Finn, by the way.”
She shook his hand, narrowing her eyes at him. “Lydia. Are you going to be here every day?”
He gestured at his laptop, with its Word document filled with the jumble of scenes he’d written two days ago. “I have a book I need to finish.”
She had seemed to think about it for a moment, and then said finally, “Enzo will be in tomorrow.”
Trusting that Enzo’s cousin wouldn’t lie to him, Finn returned to the cafe the next day. His steps slowed as he approached the building. What if it had been a fluke? What if Enzo were here and he still couldn’t write? He pushed open the door and glanced around the room. Enzo was indeed at work today, conferring with the others in a little circle around the counter. A staff meeting maybe?
The meeting broke up with the twins and Lydia heading over to the large window in the front. They whispered as they stared at something outside. Funny, Finn hadn’t noticed anything odd out there.
He went up to the counter to place his order, holding on to the strap of his laptop bag tightly. There was no real reason for Enzo to remember him. He probably dealt with so many people every day. Finn should not be upset if Enzo didn’t remember him. Nope, not at all.
“Hey,” Enzo greeted him with a grin. “Welcome back. What can I get you?”
Something fluttered in Finn’s belly. Enzo did remember him.
Finn swallowed, unable to find words for a moment, so lost in those clear eyes. “I’m surprised you remember me.”
“Kind of hard to forget the special guest at my surprise party.” Enzo ducked his head, his cheeks turning a bit pink.
“What’s everyone so worked up about?” He gestured to the crowd by the window. By this time, the two older women he knew to be regulars were also over there, staring and gesturing with their arms.
“Oh.” Enzo rolled his eyes. “You know the shop across the street? The cannoli place? Well one of our old regulars has defected over there. The ladies are, well, to put it delicately, fucking pissed off about it.”
Finn barked out a laugh. “Have any of you been over there?”
Enzo put his hand over his heart. “We would never. Besides, my aunt would kill us. She even stopped serving cannoli. She didn’t want to compete.”
“But you have no idea what you’re actually competing with,” Finn pointed out.
Why was he making such a big deal about this? All Finn wanted was to retreat into his corner and see if he could write today. The longer Finn kept on with this line of conversation, the longer he had all of Enzo’s attention. And Finn selfishly wanted every bit of Enzo he could get.
“Okay, good point. But it’s not like we can go over there now. Newspaper Bill will rat us out in a second.”
“Newspaper Bill?”
Enzo winced. “Uh, yeah. That’s the nickname we gave him, since he used to come in here with like a stack of twenty newspapers. I didn’t know they even still printed newspapers.”
Now it was Finn’s turn to cringe. “You’re making me feel old. I started out working for a paper.”
He’d always been writing something, even though penning stories for the local paper was very different from crafting full length novels. Still, Finn blamed those days for his tendency to write sparse prose. It had gotten him dinged in more than one review.
“I had no idea you were a hundred and fifty-two,” Enzo said without batting an eye.
Finn snorted. “All right. You got me. I’m actually an immortal vampire who needs to keep writing to stay alive.”
“You eat words instead of blood?”
“That analogy worked better in my head.” Finn looked over to the group still standing over by the window. “Let me go across the street. I’ll scope the place out for you and find out what Newspaper Bill is thinking.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. At the very least, I’ll get a good scene out of it for my book.” Finn gestured with his laptop bag.
Enzo held out his hands. “Let me hold on to your stuff. When you get back, I’ll have a hot cup of coffee and some fresh pastries waiting for you.”
Finn handed it over, and Enzo tucked the bag carefully behind the counter before walking him to the front door. “Finn is going across the street to spy for us,” he announced to the group.
One of the older women turned and wagged a finger at him. “Make damn sure to tell Bill to get his ass back here.”
Finn opened his mouth to respond, but luckily Enzo stepped between them. “He’s not going to confront Bill, Grace. If you want to have words with him, you can do that yourself. Finn is going to tell us if their coffee is any good, and what it looks like in there.”
“Consider me your friendly neighborhood spy.” Finn gave a little wave. His cheeks burned at being the center of attention. How had he gotten himself into this mess again?
“Speaking of,” Enzo turned back to face him, “can I get your phone number so we can text while you are over there?”
Right. Finn would do anything Enzo asked as long as it kept him writing. Already the back of his brain had started figuring out how he could put something like this in his story without a plot. As soon as he returned, Finn would type it up.
First he had a mission to complete. “Sure. Let me have your number too.”
“Here, add yourself to my contacts.” Enzo handed over his phone, and Finn did the same.
He added himself as “Vampire Writer Finn” and hoped that was a sufficient coffee shop nickname. In any case it was certainly better than “Newspaper Bill.” Before he handed it back, he flipped back to the home screen and saw that Enzo’s wallpaper was a picture of himself with a young woman with copper colored hair. Girlfriend? Sister?
Finn got his phone back and found Enzo in his contacts as “Coffee Enzo.”
Enzo snorted and sent Finn a quick text of a happy face emoji.
“Okay, here I go.” Finn squared his shoulders.
“We thank you for your service.” Lydia saluted him, and the others followed suit.
Finn had his hand on the door when Enzo said, “Wait.”
He turned around.
“Make sure they don’t see you come from here. Maybe circle around the block first.”
This whole mission was looking to be a lot more work than Finn had originally intended.
Finn didn’t think much of Holy Cannoli from the inside. It lacked all of the charm of Aunt Rosa’s Cafe. In fact, if not for the pastry counter up front, it could be any fast-food place stumbled upon in any part of New Jersey. The floor and wall tiles were all white, and tiny booths lined the walls. A few tables dotted the middle of the floor, with black utilitarian chairs. Instead of the layered complex scent of coffee, the scent of artificial vanilla ice cream filled the room.
This wasn’t the kind of place where you wanted to sit for a while and write. The décor said ‘eat and get out.’ Although it didn’t seem to be deterring the man sitting in the corner booth with a stack of newspapers in front of him.
They hadn’t been exaggerating about the number of papers. It did look like Newspaper Bill over there had about twenty different titles. Finn didn’t know that many were still in circulation.
Finn got in line and typed on his phone. “Target spotted. He appears to be reading newspapers.”
“:P” he got back in response. “Take some pics.”
Finn continued to pretend to text while taking some photos of the interior. He did feel a bit like a secret agent on assignment. This was fun. Far more entertaining than sitting in his office at home binge watching Netflix instead of writing.
“Welcome to Holy Cannoli. Free small coffee with every cannoli ordered. How can I help you?” the cashier asked, stringing the words together so rapidly it took Finn a moment to parse out each sentence.
“I’d like one cannoli please.”
She stared at him for a moment. “What kind?”
“The normal kind?”
She pointed to the counter. “You can choose your shell and filling. We have waffle, chocolate, white chocolate, and croissant shells today. For filling, there is vanilla, chocolate, cookies and cream, cookie dough, strawberry and mint.”
All of that sounded too sweet for him. “You don’t have normal cannoli?”
“How do you define normal? This is a specialty cannoli shop.” She pointed to the sign above her.
“I guess waffle and vanilla.” Finn pulled out his wallet. “And I’ll take that small coffee too. For here.”
Privately, he thought five dollars was a bit much to charge for a single cannoli, although when she put the plate on the counter, it was impressively sized. The tiny paper cup she filled from a coffee urn, and pointed him to the coffee station along one wall, where they only had tiny cups of creamer and the powdered stuff. No milk.
Finn took his bounty and sat at the table closest to where Newspaper Bill was doing his reading. He snapped a picture of the cannoli and sent it on over to Enzo.
Then he took a sip of his coffee and spit it out all over the table.
Newspaper Bill chuckled. “It’s like swill, isn’t it? How coffee is supposed to taste. If it ain’t burnt, then it ain’t working.”
Bill resembled nothing so much as a turtle. He had a very round head and not enough neck, his hairline had receded to the bleacher region, and he’d grown a thick black mustache in return.
“I actually prefer my coffee with flavor.” Finn’s taste buds were offended. He’d been gracing them with the luscious bean juice, coffee that tasted like a blend of nuts and cocoa. To have partaken of this slop was blasphemy.
“Bah.” Bill picked up another newspaper and started to page through it. “If you want good coffee go across the street.”
At least Bill hadn’t turned full traitor on Aunt Rosa’s Cafe. “If it’s so good across the street, why are you here?”
Bill shook his newspaper. “I wanted some damn peace and quiet. That okay with you?”
Finn raised his hands. “Fine by me.”
At first he didn’t get what Bill meant. The line stretched to the door. But most people took their cannoli to go, leaving the seats empty. He watched one customer order a latte, and cringed when the other cashier simply pushed a button on a machine to pour the drink, the foam congealing on top.
There were no regulars who wanted to know your name. No baristas who came around to clear tables and offer free pastries. Bill might crave that silence, but already Finn desperately missed the hum and familial feel of Aunt Rosa’s Cafe. He could never write here.
Finn took a bite of his cannoli. Definitely too sweet.
“I DON’T GET WHY THAT place is so popular,” Enzo grumbled. “Look at these pictures Finn sent. It’s so blah inside.” Not even any art on the walls. Finn could have been in any fast-food restaurant. The chairs looked uncomfortable.
He showed his phone to Lydia, as another text from Finn came in. “Coffee here sucks. Can’t wait to get back.”
Lydia stopped wiping down the counter long enough to look. “It’s a specialty cannoli place. It’s not rocket science. People are gonna get sick of it soon, like all those frozen yogurt places that used to be around and then closed up shop.”
Enzo had to tell Finn he’d have a much better coffee waiting for him when he got back. He typed his response quickly. “Yeah.”
She nudged him with her hip. “Are you even listening to me?”
“Huh?” Enzo looked up after hitting send.
“What are you doing making googly eyes at a customer?”
“I flirt with everyone,” Enzo retorted. “How do you think I sell so much coffee?” He looked back at his phone, not wanting Lydia to see the guilt in his eyes. Because he did kind of like Finn, who’d been super nice to go and do this whole secret mission for them.
Lydia folded the rag she’d been using on the counter. “You know he was asking about you yesterday.”
“Really? What did he say?”
“Nothing much. Wanted to know where you were.” She tilted her head to one side. “I mean, I guess he’s good looking, in that older daddy kind of way.”
“Lydia, I never want to hear you call anyone a ‘daddy’ ever again.” Enzo gave an exaggerated shudder.
“How else would you describe him? He’s not exactly a bear...”
Enzo covered his ears. “I can’t hear you. La, la, la.”
“Stop being so dramatic. I’m eighteen not eight.” Lydia threw the wet rag at him, forcing him to try to catch it and juggle his phone at the same time. “And since when do you pick up guys at the cafe?”
“I’m not picking him up,” Enzo protested. He didn’t want a hook up with someone like Finn. He wanted to get to know him, find out more about that book he was writing and what led him to their cafe. What had made him look so sad the first day they met, when Finn talked about running from his past?
“Maybe you should be. He’s a lot more...normal than most guys you date.”
She wasn’t wrong, although he should probably be offended. “You can be honest. Most of the guys I’ve been with have been assholes.”
“Remember I’m not the one who said it.” Lydia snorted. “Especially that one dude—what was his name? Chance? Lance? The one who had the gold pinky ring and acted like a mob boss?”
Enzo groaned and slapped his hand against his forehead. “Let us never speak of him again.”
They’d met at a club downtown. It should have ended with a hookup in the parking lot. It really should have. Lance had been hot, and that was the only thing he had going for him: a great bod, a wicked smile, and an even more talented tongue. When they weren’t in bed, they were fighting, and that should have been his first clue to end it a lot sooner than he had.
Chalk it up to another mistake. Picking up guys in clubs hadn’t worked out so well for him, so maybe he should start looking elsewhere.
Lydia lowered her voice. “I mean, I don’t think Chance would have gone across the street to spy for you.”
“Lance,” Enzo corrected, looking down at his phone again, awaiting another text from Finn. “And no, he wouldn’t.”
“Definitely a point for Finn, then.”
“Please don’t mention any of my exes to Finn.” The last thing Enzo wanted would be to kill this thing between him and Finn before it even began. Hearing about Enzo’s past hook-ups? That would do it.
Lydia snorted. “As if any of them are worth mentioning.”
His phone buzzed. “Looks like Finn is on his way back. I should get his coffee started. Which pastry should I give him?” Enzo puttered around getting a cup and starting up the steamer.
“He liked the sfogliatella last time he was here.”
“Those are better fresh.” Enzo looked over the pastry case, filled with the creations of his aunt from early that morning. She worked so hard and put so much of herself into this business, kind of like Enzo and his art. Enzo pulled out a serving of tiramisu for Finn and set it on a plate.
Before Finn came back, Enzo needed to have a quick word with his cousin. He didn’t want to count on getting the job with Nat, but just in case he did, he really needed to warn Lydia now. “Listen, don’t tell your mom yet.” Not until Enzo had even scored and interview. “But I’m going to apply for a job in the city.” He busied himself with getting Finn’s coffee ready, bracing himself for her reaction.
“Shit, that’s great news.”
The tension left Enzo’s shoulders. Enzo poured the milk and started to heat it before turning to face her. “Seriously? I would have thought you’d be upset.”
Lydia shrugged. “You’ve worked here since I was a little kid. I didn’t think you’d want to be here forever.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. Even if his art career took off, he always imagined himself staying on part time to help out his aunt. She needed someone she could trust to work the night shift. After all she’d done for him, Enzo would never leave her without a word. They were family and family stuck by each other, no matter what the hell his parents thought.
“Yeah, well, we’ll see how it goes.” He still didn’t want the job. Enzo wanted his art his way, not being tied to a desk making things for other people. But Nat was right about opportunities like this not coming around every day. If he didn’t apply and failed once again with trying to make it big with his art, what would Enzo do then?
The door opened to reveal Finn carrying a paper bag. He stalked over to the counter and picked up a crowd, as the twins, Grace, Dorothy, and Loraine all followed. “Their coffee stinks,” he declared, and they cheered.
“I did, however, bring some cannoli.” Finn opened up the paper bag and revealed two objects that were certainly cannoli shaped, although they did not resemble any cannoli Enzo had ever seen. “Chocolate shell with cookie dough filling.” Finn pointed to the first. “Croissant shell with chocolate filling.” The second.
Enzo grabbed some paper plates and a knife. He cut up the cannoli into bite sized pieces and everyone took one.
“Ok, don’t tell mama because she’d be pissed, but the chocolate croissant cannoli is to die for.” Lydia sighed.
“It’s all a little too sweet for me,” Finn countered.
Enzo went and grabbed the tiramisu he set aside for Finn, along with the latte. “Here. Try this instead.”
Finn sipped the coffee, closed his eyes and moaned.
Enzo swallowed, unable to take his eyes off of Finn, the way his throat moved as he swallowed. That moan did things to him, and those were things he did not think of in the context of work. His body flushed, and arousal stirred in his belly. Thank goodness for long aprons that covered everything.
