Winter was around the corner and it was the first time I was in the city. I had made my way through a transparent glass door, and a blanket of warm air hit me. It was a coffee shop. It seemed to be the biggest coffee shop in town.
I made my way to the coffee bar at the end of the shop made of reclaimed wood. A barista stood before me. He welcomed me with a charming smile. I sat observing the cheerful and brilliant lighting hanging in the shop. It had a vast parking lot with tables outside, each with a brown vintage-style umbrella.
My senses were in pleasure as the rich coffee aroma swam right into my nostrils, which was delectable. I could see that they sold the finest coffee from all over the world. They even had a book corner on the right-hand side of the store where you could read and buy books.
The noise the customers made was not that immense despite it being popular. This place was ideal and seems like everyone was here, I guess to release some stress. I order a cup of coffee with coca cream.
When I was about to take the first sip of my cup of coffee the looks of the cup caught my eye. It had a very rich vintage look itself. The fresh hot coffee warmed my palms as I took the first sip. The invigorating smoky taste was heavenly. But right then, all I could think about, was this coffee, as I sipped my coffee coca cream.
"I see you found a spot," a charming voice greeted me as she sat on the next chair beside me. The aged wooden floor creaked beneath her as she made herself comfortable on a bulky wooden chair.
"Jada, this place is amazing," I said, as sipped again from my cup.
"I thought so after you went frizzies on me a couple of hours ago," she pouted her mouth at me. I tilted my head in acknowledgment, indicating not one of my proudest moments.
I called her and apologized, and then told her I had gotten the job. Her squeals were too much to contain. She told me to meet her here, giving me directions on my phone. She wanted every detail, and I couldn't deny her.
"I'll have an Americano," she gestured to the barista.
"So tell me," Jada said. "And I mean everything."
I sat sipping my coffee with coca cream, remember entering his office. Honestly, I was expecting to see a man's forehead covered with deep wrinkles, bushy grey brows, and probably a bald spot. I clearly remembered the founder being in his sixties, so here I was again surprised to see someone who seemed to be in his early thirties.
This well-built, olive-skinned man, with thick medium curly hair with a fade on each side. I could see his short-length, perfectly trimmed sideburns. He wore a suit, however, his jacket was now hanging over his chair's headrest.
He looked preoccupied with the papers in front of him and didn't even bother to look up when I entered the room. I introduced myself, giving him my hand and he glanced at me with his hazel eyes and full lips. He didn't take my hand and only commanded me to sit.
I told Jada how he preceded to not recognize me, and this made me nervous. It ended up making me make a crucial mistake when I didn't give him any eye contact. Despite when Miss. Flowercakes, gave me carefree information to help me along the way.
I went on to tell her how I had sparked, and ask him 'why not?' Since I was irritated by the fact he seemed not to want to give me any time of his day. He somehow reminded me of Miss. Basher, and how she used to walk all over me and I wasn't having any of it.
I guess I sparked his interest after all. Since he basically offered me a job. Even more, it fit my criteria. I was doing internal screaming all the way down to the lobby till I called Jada.
"So," Jada's eyes sparkled. "His he hot or cute?" Grinning.
"What?! I do not know?" I squawked, as I being to remember his hazel eyes and full lips.
"Really? Did you see a wedding band or something?"
"No," I eyed her closely, as I tried to remember if I did. "Not that I could tell either way. He never shook my hand."
"Oh yea, right," she sighed disappointedly. "Oh, well. He's the younger version of the legendary man of Redwood you know." Now biting her bottom lip. "Men like those are always loaded and looking to have a night of fun."
"Oh my god," I said, realizing her thoughts. "I doubt he would look your way," I claimed intentionally.
"Jealous aren't we?"
"Please, he's my boss now, I have nothing to be jealous of. I get to see him, unlike you... nothing," I teased her.
"Rude!" She said as she lightly punch my shoulder. "Men like that are dangerous." I hummed at her, waiting for further comments. "Men like them, 'high profile men', don't want to be recognized when going on a date. They are well-dressed and intelligent, and you might even have an interesting conversation. They will even parade their lifestyle around you... the cars, the resorts, the mansion, but all of them are the same," she went on to say.
"The same?" I question her.
"The same... they just want sex from you darling," she twerked a smile at me. "For the right price, and a time from your life." Now I hit her.
"Seriously? You speak like, you're speaking from experience."
"Experience? I wish... I would have been rich by now," when she said this, the both of us giggled at each other.
"By the way," I said smiling and stirring my cup with both hands gently.
"What?"
"I need somewhere to crash, for the job so..."
"My place is perfect!" Jada shot at me.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Got something better?" She asked slyly, then we both giggled again.
******
(Mr. Marcelo Hayes's POV)
******
I stood in the elevator with Flowers. I could see her rustling through the papers I gave her. I slightly look at her haphazard state. 'Maybe I should have given her a heads up, I was coming.' Clearly, she needed time to adjust.
I turn to see the display of the rich Paramount city history and lineage staring back at me. The clouds in the sky create a nice cool blanket from the hot sun. I could see and hear the fainted sounds from the cars and the busy people that seemed to become silent, as we created further distance between us. Not too far off in the distance, I could see the old softball stadium and the park's huge oak trees.
I stared at the red light floor indicator hovering above the door. The elevator sensation felt very smooth and comfortable as it indicates every floor it passed. Once the trip was over the silver mesh doors part once again and I move out onto the eightieth floor.
I turned right, and walk towards a room. Two doors were ajar. As I walked in, I could smell a mixture of two very distinct smells, shoe polish, and cologne. Lit by only the glow of a small, unshaded lamp found on an oak writing desk in the corner. The windows were covered, making the room quite dim, but once your eyes adjusted it was a comforting dimness.
The room was painted a bluish-gray color from top to bottom. The ceiling of the room was the same color as the walls and the floor was made of dark brown stained wood paneling. Next to the only door, there was a coat rack.
I placed my coat in it, then I looked at my desk. I saw a plant placed on the desk near the lamp. I noticed the once vibrant petals have relaxed to a brown-infused pastel of what they once were.
"Oh, " I heard Flowers as she swarmed to take up the plant. As she did, the papers slipped out from her hands unto the floor.
"Sorry," she whimpered as she see the papers on the floor while grasping the vase.
"Take the day to organize those documents, Flowers," I said, seeing how flustered she was.
"No, I'm..."
"I said organize yourself," interrupting her. She nodded as she scooped to begin to take up the paper off the floor.
I walked to the other side, to give her room. I noticed the recliner I would often use in order to catch up on many hours of lost slumber. Over the recliner I saw was draped fleece throw on it, with pale gray and blue colors scattered here and there. There was also a small circular rug lying on the floor next to the recliner. The rug was fairly plain, with just a simple design. Next to the recliner sat a coffee table.
This room seemed to be untouched since the last time I was here. Although most of the room was organized with precision, the desk was quite unkempt. The papers were scattered here and there in a disorderly fashion. A black ballpoint pen sat underneath an overturned folder on the left-hand side of the desk. The rest of the writing utensils were located in a pen cup on the opposite side of where the plant was and a lamp.
Almost unnoticeable amongst the ruckus on the desk, is a small portable laptop sitting folded under the papers, connected by tangled cords to a wall outlet. The desk had three drawers on the right side of the table.
"Flowers," she stood up and looked at me.
"Yes, Mr. Hayes."
"Take the laptop with you, and get it restored. If not, get me a new one," I said as I turned to the window curtains.
"Yes, sir," she acknowledged. I turned the window panels to open the streams of light, to glow the room. I placed my hands in my pockets, as I stared into the abyss. I looked at the panoramic view of the city. Seeing some of the other buildings peaks and the rest racing to the shoreline.
I heard Flowers rustling the papers off my desk to take the laptop off. I then heard her, taking her to leave. Then she began to make hissing whispers.
"You can't be here, you need to request an appointment," she ushered.
"How dare you?" the apathetic voice said to her. I sighed to myself, as I knew that voice all too well.
"I do not care, no appointment, no entry," I heard Flowers's bitter voice.
"I should fire you."
"Like, you can," I turned when Flowers said this, only to see her blocking the entrance. I step to draw my chair and sit in it.
"Let her in, Flowers," I told her. She turned her face to look at me, conceivably upset.
"Mr. Hayes..." she gestured.
"It's fine Flowers, I'll handle this. Just take care of the matters I ask of you." She nodded slightly, as she turned and gave an undesirable look to the entrance of the door.
She came in like a rocket launcher. Swinging herself meticulously, with her spike heels. Making rhythmic sounds on my office floors. She wore as usually seen, a certain stylish dress. She looked at me with her dull wide set, brown eyes, and very thin lips. With her mid-back length, wavy black hair cropped.
"When will you teach her some lessons?" she pouted, looking down at me. "She behaves as if I'm not someone." 'You're not,' I uttered to myself.
"What do you want Jules?" I said taking up the ballpoint pen, playfully in my hands, deliberately ignoring her question.
She folded her hands at her chest and gave me a menacing posture.
"Oh Marcelo, after vanishing for a year. This is how... you greet your wife?"