Chapter 8 Jacob
JACOB
Isleep badly.
When I wake up, my back hurts and my neck aches. These mattresses are probably a thousand years old, and the pillows might as well be rocks. At least the toilets are clean.
Yesterday, when I checked in, the landlady asked if I wanted breakfast. I declined, politely of course. I don’t particularly feel like eating whatever the locals eat. I want something good and a strong, strong coffee.
Neither of those are things I think I’m going to find here.
What I want to do is go back to sleep, but now I’m awake and it feels like I’m lying on a concrete floor, so I decide to get up and go on a coffee hunt. There must be a cafe or something in this stupid town somewhere.
The landlady beams when she sees me yawn my way over to the front desk. “Are you enjoying your stay?” she asks when I get in range.
“I guess so,” I agree, deciding now is not the time to be rude. Then another impulse overtakes me. “I’ll stay a few more nights.”
“Wonderful,” she says, clapping her hands together. “How many?”
I shrug. “Two or three. Just put it on my tab. I’ll pay for it when I’m checking out.”
“That’s not really our process, sir. We do like people to pay upfront.”
My mouth opens and closes again. I want to get these people on my side. “Okay… put me down for another two nights, but I might stay more.”
“All right, sir.” She smiles. “Though I must say, it’s a popular room, so if you could give us some advance notice, that would be wonderful.”
“All right.”
I smile falsely, not enjoying how she’s talking to me. I’m not entirely sure whether she’s being rude or not. She’s a big woman with a jolly face, and I’ve never seen her not smiling. But just because she’s always polite doesn’t mean she’s not hiding meanings behind what she’s saying.
“And can I interest you in breakfast on any of those days, sir?” she asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’ll be okay.”
“Very good, sir.” She hands me the card machine, and I swipe my credit card. I’m glad that they do credit cards here. It would be so annoying to have to carry cash.
“Say, where can I get the best cup of coffee around here?” I ask. “I need something strong and sweet.”
“Just like you.” She giggles. I chuckle back without any humor. “You’ll want to go to Coffee Haven. It’s on the beachfront. You can’t miss it. Everyone goes there because it’s just that good. They do a great breakfast there too, unless it’s Tuesday or Sunday, or if the chef’s having a day off, or—”
“That’s great, thank you,” I cut her off, not wanting to listen to any more of this inane rambling.
“Don’t forget, we serve dinner starting at four,” she says with a grin.
“I won’t.” I grimace, with absolutely no intention of ever, ever going to the restaurant here.
Before she can get another word in, I stride out into the day and head down the main street. People are bustling about again, going in and out of shops, chatting with friends and strangers. I suppose, in a town this big, they all know each other. They have that tedious sort of community spirit.
I’m very nearly tempted to go into some of the little stores and see what sort of trinkets and tourist trap junk they have, but that’ll mean being roped into a conversation. I don’t think I can handle having a conversation before midday without a cup of coffee in my hand.
To the cafe it is.
I wander aimlessly down to the beachfront so I can stare out to sea, but to my great dismay, that’s when people start noticing me. A young couple come up to me. They’re clearly expecting a baby.
“Excuse me, sir,” says the young man as he flags me down. “We heard what you said at the town hall last night.” I hum as if to say go on, and they do. “Well, I just wanted to say…” the man leans in as if he’s about to tell me some great conspiracy. “We would take it.”
“You would?” I say, my eyebrows raised.
They glance around as if they’re afraid of being overheard. “I understand why lots of people wouldn’t,” whispers the woman. “But we’ve got a baby on the way.”
The man nods in agreement. “This town is great, but we want our baby to have all the opportunities possible. We don’t want our child to be held back. And I don’t want other people’s pride to get in the way of a future we could have.”
“Commendable,” I say. “Principles are one thing, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting better for your family.”
“Plenty in this town wouldn’t agree,” the woman says, her voice hushed. “You’ll face resistance, but a lot of people will also go with the easy option. I’m sure you know what people are like.”
I chuckle. “You two seem to not only have brains but also enterprise. What do you do for jobs?”
“I went to school in LA for tech development, actually,” confesses the woman, flushing a little as if she’s embarrassed. “Not that I have a great job in it or anything. I’m nothing special. I do some remote work. But—”
“Say no more.” I smile. “Here’s my card. I want you to contact me. I’ll see that you’re taken care of. Don’t worry.”
Her mouth drops open, and I have to almost force the card into her hand.
“Thank you so much,” says the man. “They’re going to say nasty things about you, but we know they’re not true. We’ll support you.”
“Thank you.” As they scurry away, I mutter to myself, “But for how long?”
I have the feeling that these people are fine telling me they agree in private, but the second they’re forced to stand up to their neighbors, they won’t say a word.
Whatever. Not my problem. If these people can be bought, so can everyone.
This has renewed my confidence. A few more days here to charm the people and make sure that I really do want to go through with this, and life will be a dream.
And, as it turns out, this couple are not the only ones who come up to me and say they agree. I get my fair share of people telling me I should go back to the city, that I need to leave them all alone. But I get a few more people who come up to me to tell me they would take the money.
This is a complicated town full of complicated people. I’m starting to see that I was very, very wrong to dismiss them all as simple idiots.
I follow my phone map all the way to the cafe.
The landlady was right. It’s absolutely packed in there.
People flow in and out like they’re in the busiest rush of their lives.
I thought life on an island like this was supposed to be slow, gentle, calm.
Not according to these people. They all have places to be.
Who knows where they’re heading and if it really is that important, but that’s none of my business.
Even if it were my business, I don’t think I would care very much.
I saunter into the cafe and grit my teeth against the inevitable way everyone’s going to turn around to look at me. But they don’t. A couple of people glance up. A handful of those glances turn into glares, like I’m some sort of devil incarnate.
But most people don’t even notice someone new has come into the store at all. Great. This was exactly the level of anonymity I was hoping for. And just imagine when all this is mine. I’ll be more anonymous than ever. In fact, it won’t even be anonymity. There won’t be people to annoy me.
Doesn’t that sound blissful?
Before I can get too lost in my fantasy, I force myself to walk up to the counter because I want my coffee.
A young, brown-skinned guy is working the coffee machine, slamming his hand on the side of it as if that will get it to work better.
He mutters something at it in Spanish, then turns to me, beaming. “Good morning! What can I get for you?”
“The strongest coffee you have. And a big breakfast. The food here is good, right?”
“It’s the best.” Somehow, his smile brightens. “Trust me, I’ve worked here for years. It’s great. I sometimes get the leftovers when—”
“Yes, that’s great,” I cut him off, not wanting to listen to his pointless yammering. “Strong coffee, plenty of sugar, big breakfast. You got that?”
“I’ve got that, sir.” He flashes his bright white teeth at me and offers a joking salute.
Is everyone on this stupid island so happy all the time? Is it the sea air? It can’t be. I’ve lived in LA all my life, and there are plenty of people in that city who go to the sea all the time but are still completely miserable.
He rings me up, and I pay, leaving a huge tip. It’s the least I can do for a small business. I don’t see any point in being stingy with my money when I have so much of it. His eyebrows raise when he sees the number, but he doesn’t say anything. A wise move. Why question a good thing?
I barely blink as he works the machine, watching as the beautiful drink comes together. A stool frees up at the counter and I stumble over to it, keeping my eyes on the huge mug that is being filled with caffeine. Perfect.
It’s hot and smells great when the worker slides it over to me. I thank him and breathe in the steam, letting my eyes close.
Suddenly, a door in the back room slams and a young woman’s voice calls out. “Lantigua, I’m back. You can…”
Her voice trails off as she walks through the doorway, looks up from rummaging in her bag and sees me.
Our eyes meet. The blood drains from my face. Her pale cheeks flush and her eyebrows furrow.
It’s the woman from the town hall.
The one who apparently hates me more than anyone else in the world. Miss Billie.