Penny (Coffee Leaf Cafe #2)

1

Beckett

Four months ago…

“I… I don’t think I can do this.”

“The Sea Is Rising” by Bliss n Eso, playing in the background, muffles the voice, so I pause. Tattoo gun in hand, I look up at Garret, the man currently trembling like a goddamn leaf in the wind, sprawled out on my black leather tattoo bed. “Come again?”

He’s white as a sheet, and his forehead is coated in a thick layer of sweat.

I get it; tattoos are intimidating. Especially if you’ve never had one before, but come on.

He glances at the device in my hand, and I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Nope,” he mutters, looking back up at me, shaking his head while clutching the sides of the bed so tightly that his knuckles turn as white as his face. “Can’t. Can’t do it.”

Well, shit .

I click my tongue and nod, looking down at his calf and the stencil of the piece I spent two days working on, and bid it farewell before straightening and dropping my gun on the metal side table to my right. “Alright, man. Your call. I’m booked out for three months after this, though. So, if you change your mind-”

“I won’t. Shit, sorry,” Garret manages to get out as he practically scrambles from his seat and clambers to his feet.

Booming laughter has both of us looking across the room at the friend he brought with him for moral support, who has remained silent up until this point. “Oh, you’re such a pussy,” he wheezes, hunching over in his seat, and wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

The only ink I can see on the bloke is a poorly drawn VB can cartoon on his wrist with what looks like a cigarette coming out of its mouth. The thing is about the size of my thumb, so I wouldn’t say he’s got much of a leg to stand on, but…

“Fuck off, Jed,” Garret snaps, running a trembling hand through his short, black hair. “You were passed out when Darren tatted you. You didn’t even feel it!”

Jed gapes at him, sputters something about too many ‘ skittle bombs’ , and jumps out of his chair.

I do my best not to start laughing when they both flex their biceps and puff out their chests at one another. Instead, I stand to my full height, tug off my gloves, and toss them into the stainless-steel trashcan beside my desk.

After turning off the music, I gesture to the open door. “Now, now, boys. No need to fight, especially not in my shop. Simmer down, and I’ll walk you out.”

They both square up, and I can’t decide if I want to sit back and watch them fight it out or get in between them to prevent any of my shit getting damaged.

Before I can make a decision, movement from the doorway catches my eye, and I turn my focus from the two idiots in front of me to my business partner, Ryan.

“Everything alright?” he asks, crossing his arms and leaning against the wooden door frame.

“I don’t know,” I reply, unable to keep a straight face. “We good here, boys?”

Ryan is a scary-looking motherfucker when he wants to be. Covered head to toe in tats, and standing at around 6’3, just a little shorter than me. Because of that fact, I’m not surprised in the least when Garret and his friend look over at him and deflate.

As they nod, I clap my hands together and grin. “Seems like we’re all good now, brother. Just finishing up.”

Ryan frowns and looks down at Garrett’s calf before looking back up at me, one eyebrow raised.

“He pussed out,” Jed grumbles, answering Ryan’s silent question.

“Ah,” he replies, nodding in understanding. “Well shit, I’ll leave you to it then.”

“Actually,” I call out as he turns. “If you’re free, can you sort Garret out?”

He looks at me over his shoulder, the dove tattoo I inked into his neck when we apprenticed together, creasing. “Uh, yeah?”

Ryan and I usually handle our own clients from start to finish, given we don’t have anyone working the front desk, so he’s understandably confused by the request.

Garret sighs, rubs the back of his neck, and walks out of the room when Ryan moves to the side, giving him room to do so, and his ‘friend’ follows closely behind.

I chuckle quietly as I listen to Garret whine about his deposit, and then to Ryan explain why he won’t be getting a cent of it back.

I spent too many hours on that design to get nothing for it, and usually, a cancellation like this would ruin my mood for the rest of the day. I’ve got a waitlist full of people who would have killed for Garret’s spot, and while I could call one of ‘em up, get a couple hours work in, and make some extra cash, today, I’ve got a better idea of what to do with my newfound free time.

As quickly as possible, I shut down my station, and make sure all my shit is sterilised and good to go. Once I’m finished and the room smells like lemon-scented disinfectant, I grab my keys from the top drawer of my desk and turn off the light.

“You good?” Ryan asks without looking away from the computer screen as I round the front counter.

“Yep,” I reply, popping the P as I spot the corner of my black leather wallet buried underneath a pile of paperwork and a random Post-it note with the words ‘call Mitch back’ scribbled on it.

Hope we did that.

While I wade through the random crap covering my wallet, I ask myself the same question I do every other day; why did we bother paying an arm and a bloody leg for a custom-made, solid walnut front counter with the name of our shop burnt into the front, only to use the fucking thing as a dumping ground for random paperwork and receipts?

The answer? ‘Cos, it’s cool as shit.

The lettering for Inked on Agnes turned out even better than I thought it would, and our shop name looks killer against the woodgrain.

“You heading out?” Ryan asks as I shove my wallet into the back pocket of my dark green cargos.

“Yep. Need me a coffee .” My answer has him scowling at me, and I can’t help but grin in response ‘cos I know exactly what he’s about to say.

“Leave my girl alone, Beckett,” he warns dryly, not missing a beat.

My smile only widens as I snag my Ray-bans from beside the keyboard and head for the front door, watching him from over my shoulder as I do.

It’s hard to take any threat from him seriously, even when he’s glaring at me like he is. I’ve known the bloke since high school, and we apprenticed together after that. He’s not just my business partner; he’s my best mate, but I trump him in both size and muscle mass, so…

“I mean it.” He points his index finger at me as I reach for the handle. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I reply, winking at him just to rile him up a little more before swinging the door open and stepping out onto the pavement.

Ryan calls my name, and I turn back and smile at him through the glass pane of the closed door and take a second to admire how fucking sick the shop looks from out here. It’s not often I see it from an outsider’s point of view. The front room is dark, in a moody, edgy kind of way, with only the most important features lit up by the three large black pendant lights hanging from the ceiling. The red brick wall we tore the plaster off ourselves when we first got the keys really draws the eye, especially since Ryan hung up a couple dozen of his sketches in the mismatched frames we got from the thrift store. Add in the two-seater black leather couch and the coffee table sitting in front of it, made from a pane of frosted glass and two thick wooden stumps, and you’ve got yourself a hell of a vibe.

“Yo!” Ryan calls out, drawing my attention back to him and his grumpy ass. I raise an eyebrow in response, and he throws his hands up. “At least bring me back a damn cappuccino!”

I snort at his request, shake my head and turn my back on the fucker.

It’s not like I don’t get why he’s a little paranoid about me sniffing around Coffee Leaf Cafe. Molly, one of the owners, is hot as hell in that soft, motherly kind of way. His interest in her is the only reason I checked out the café in the first place. Still, she ain’t the reason I’ve been itching for a hit of caffeine since I walked into work this morning.

Got no intention of taking his girl from him, and he damn well knows it.

His mother would kill me .

The sun’s rays hit my face as I step out from under the shade of the building, and immediately my skin begins to thaw. I look over at my shiny, Crimson Red Subaru GT Forrester, the keys to which are currently spinning around my finger, and decide against driving. The café’s only a five-minute walk, and some much-needed vitamin D sounds a hell of a lot better than sitting down again. So, I pocket my keys, and I hit the pavement.

Mawson Lakes has got to be the most scenic little town on this side of the Adelaide CBD. The streets are lined with overgrown, lush, green trees, and their fallen leaves litter the sidewalks in an almost artistic type’a way. The locals are all friendly as hell and wave in greeting as you pass by their houses, and there’s none of that mind-numbing noise you find in the city. No car horns blaring, no backfiring exhausts or road-raging citizens hanging out their driver’s side windows to give other motorists a piece of their mind. Nope, not here, and I love it. People also tend not to venture too far out of town, which is why Ryan and I opened up shop here. It’s also why we and the other local businesses are never short of customers.

After a couple minutes of wandering down the street, I arrive at my destination, open the front door, let a couple customers out, and then step inside.

If you didn’t know this place was a café, you’d think it was some kind of bougie-ass antique store. I had to check the pink neon sign hanging behind the front counter myself when I came by for the first time yesterday to make sure I was in the right place. Nothing matches, but it’s in the most intentional way. Every table, chair, and pot plant feels as though it was hand-picked for the exact spot it sits. As an artist, I can appreciate how they’ve built a collection of items that don’t really belong together and somehow made them look as though they do.

This place is homey. Inviting . And the huge skylight sitting above the raw timber plant rack that takes up the entire length of one wall makes the café glow.

It's a cool spot. The girls did good, and the locals obviously appreciate it, considering this place is always packed.

I don’t bother waiting to be seated ‘cos I know exactly where I want to be, and the table’s free, so I move further into the building and sit my ass right in the centre of the café, in the one spot that gives me a perfect, unobstructed view of the front counter.

A perfect view of her .