Don was still in amazement when he found himself in front of a café. The building had a sign out in front, "New Haven Café." He couldn't explain it, but something told his soul to walk in and have a cup of coffee. The inside of the out of date building was drenched in stained wallpaper. Floral designs that seem to be out of the seventies. The tables were sporadically placed in the center of the room. Over on the far side of the wall, there were a few booths with tables sticking out.
He found his seat over at the far side amongst the booths. Sitting his bag down beside him, he pulled out his laptop. Writer's block completely rendering him useless at this moment. He pondered where he should begin, how he should begin? The story is in his mind, but not the beginning. A blonde-haired girl in an apron walked up and smiled down at him. As he looked up to see her eyes, those eyes that were so blue, they could freeze his soul, he suddenly got the inspiration.
"What can I get you?" she asked, flirting with her eyes.
Don looked at the screen of the laptop and then back at her. "Coffee." He whispered, almost to the point where you couldn't hear him. "Excuse me?"
"Black coffee."
She giggled. "Is it any other color?" she placed her pen in her ear and made her way to the back without noting his order. He watched her make her way away from him and smiled. Not being able to control the outpouring of creativity, he started typing vigorously.
It seemed like no time at all from when she left to when she came back with a white ceramic mug full of piping hot coffee. She slid it over at him thinking he didn't notice her. He did, but nothing was going to be able to break him out of this streak of genius.
People came and went as Don wrote and sipped on numerous amounts of coffee. The girl kept bringing him the pot and refreshed his cup every thirty minutes, almost to the second. He would break his concentration every once in a while, smile at her, or even stare at the floral wallpaper, but that was it. His mind was overtaking his being. He was a writer at that moment.
The first time he looked at her, he noticed that her badge read, "Jess." She was young, her lips were shiny as if she had just applied lip gloss. "What flavor?" Don asked as he held up his cup for another round.
She touched her lips as if she had forgotten the gloss was there. "Melon." She said as she poured out the coffee into the cup. He smiled at her and nodded his head in thanks. The dusk came and the light made the café look like a relic from the past. Don admired the way it happened to increase the flow of the room. No customers were left in the café as Jess made her way back to Don.
"You mind if I sit down?" she asked as she placed the pot down on the table and helped herself to a seat. He shook his head no as if it mattered his answer.
"What are you writing?" she asked.
"Just a story about a girl." He chuckled. "But most stories are about girls, aren't they?" She smiled and nodded.
He watched as she slowly moved her hair out of her face. Her eyes matched his as he noticed a dimple to the right of her mouth. "Most are. At least the good ones." She picked up the pot and poured another cup. "Is yours a good one?" The light was now fading as the sky turned dark.
"Maybe. At least that's the goal." He said as he took a big gulp. She slid the other mug towards her and motioned to ask if she could join him.
"I know it's about a girl, but what else?"
Don looked at her like he didn't understand the question. "Is there really anything else?"
She laughed as she took her first drink of coffee. "You are a funny one."
Time slipped into oblivion as they sat there and talked into the night. It was so late when they both realized that they had talked for hours, that the manager left her the key to lock up. "Do they do that often? Leave you the key?"
She shook her head. "First time."
He smiled. "Glad I could be your first."
She knew what that meant, but she decided to let it go and gave him a seductive smile instead. "You're cute."
He said as he closed his laptop and slid it back into his bag. "You know of any good places to lay your head?" The pot was getting low as she picked it up and poured the last little bit into the cup. She stared at him in a moment of what can only be described as thought.
"Not off the top of my head. But I have an extra room if you need a place." She took a sip. "You're new to the city?" he confirmed it with a shake of the head and a smile.
"New as one can be." He was about to answer the offer she made as someone walked in the door. He didn't look away from her as he shouted, "Sorry, they're closed."
"I'm actually here to see her," Jake answered. Jess shot her glare past Don and to him. She knew that voice and he made his way out of the shadow. "Jess, right?"
She smiled as she shook her head. "Don this is Jake."
He made his way to shake Don's hand. "This is a nice café. You work here?" Don cocked his head as if to size up Jake.
"No. Just passing through." He offered his hand to Jake.
"Me too. Well, I was going to see if this young girl here wanted to get a drink." He looked at her and smiled. "Maybe even those famous eggs in the morning." Winking at her. She hid away her smile as she shook her head no.
"I can't tonight. I have a friend coming over." She took Don's hand. "Isn't that right?"
That's right," Don said as he threw his bag strap around his neck. "We have tons to discuss." Jake smiled and rubbed his neck.
"I see. How about tomorrow?" He responded.
"I don't know. I got to work," she answered. He shook his head and pulled out his wallet.
"I'll pay you for the whole day." She looked over at Don embarrassed. "Three hundred bucks for twelve hours."
"I'm not a hooker." She yelled at him, clearly upset.
"Buddy, leave the lady alone," Don said as they both made their way to the door. Jake took a step forward and they both stopped.
"First off, I didn't say you were. I wanted to get to know you." He looked over at Don with contempt in his eyes. "And you, stay out of this."
"Don't tell me to stay out of this." Don started lightly guiding Jake to the door.
Jake wasn't going to budge. "Get your damned hands off me."
"Stop. Jess interrupted. "Don, let's just go."
Don turned around to look at Jess as Jake threw a punch. His fist landed right under his left eye, knocking him to the ground. It was the hardest he could ever remember being hit. He fell to the ground, knocking over a table beside him.
"Jake!" she screamed as she jumped to his side. You could see the regret in Jake's eyes. He stared down at Don and then at his fist. He had never felt so bad in his life. The life that his father provided, that is. It was like a wave came over him and at that moment, he didn't like himself. Don touched his eye, sore as all hell.
"Are you okay?" Jess asked as she kneeled to his side.
"Get up." Jake insisted as he threw down a handkerchief to Don. He looked up and saw how distraught was in his eyes.
"Get out of here Jake," Jess said as she tended to her new friend. "I'm…" Jake stammered and stopped as he looked away. "sorry."
Don stood up and wiped himself off. He made his move closer to the boy standing at the front of the café. He seemed scared as Don came closer. But instead of retaliation, he extended a hand. Jake inspected the thing, not knowing this form of battle. He took it and shook it. "Donald Scott." He said as he wiped his eye.
"Jake Greyson." Jess smiled as the two exchanged pleasantries.
"Okay. This is Jake Bloom, not Greyson. Now that you two have met, can we please go?" She asked. "I have a bottle of wine waiting for me at the house." Jake seemed thrown off about how and when she learned his last name. They both turned and looked at her, then at each other.
"Wine does seem like a good idea." Don insisted.
"Well, instead of that wonderful wine, I'm sure you have. How about I take both of you to this club and we order table-side service? On me."
Don scuffed at the statement. "You always like this?"
He shook his head. "Pretty much." They all three laughed and made their way out of the café. That is how the dreamer met the son of a banker. And that is how the thief met the dreamer.
But, most importantly, that is how the son of the banker met his future, the dreamer.