Running Take Two was hard work, bloody hard work, a lot harder than Tom had ever anticipated. When Tom had bought the business the year before, he’d had this idealistic view of how his new life would be—making lattes, baking muffins, assembling sandwiches, and chatting with the regulars. Sure, he’d had a business plan but he’d expected things to be a little busier so had factored in being able to employ someone to open up in the mornings. As it was, the renovations of the major corporate office complex down the block and construction of a new building, together with the associated temporary road closures, had seen his customer numbers dwindle. He had peaks and troughs, and somewhat of a morning rush hour, but no guarantee from day to day, so Tom had no choice but to cut costs and that meant letting the morning guy go. He been sorry to give the bad news to Bobby but business was business and he’d had to make some tough, but necessary, decisions. Bobby needed full-time hours and the measly few hours Tom could offer just didn’t cut it. Tom still harboured hope he’d be able to offer Bobby his position back one day—if Bobby wanted to come back, that was.
So now it was up to Tom to open and close, which meant a long and often lonely day. He had a bit of help during the lunch time rush, bringing in a couple of casual employees, but overall it was up to him. Combined with the stock ordering and inventory, cleaning, accounts and marketing, he was an exhausted wreck, as evidenced by the headache that lingered at his temples.
It could be worse. Tom tried to think positively as he wiped down the counter, completing the final preparations before he unlocked the front doors for the day. First he’d been lucky enough to have a small inheritance from his grandparents to use as a down payment on the mortgage and set himself up. And his tiny supply of cash was holding out as he made enough from his small but loyal clientele to cover his costs. Profits weren’t on the immediate horizon, so updating the tired interior of the cafe would have to wait, but he could afford the mortgage repayments, the utilities, the minimal wages, and to pay his suppliers. He may have been working himself into a state of exhaustion every day, but at least he wasn’t stressing about where his next meal was coming from, not like some people who had nothing.
It was a godsend the building included a small two-bedroom apartment over the cafe, so he only had to roll out of bed to open up in the mornings, and it was a short stagger back up the stairs once he’d seen the last customer out the door and locked up for the night. The second bedroom was his office and his life basically consisted of work and sleep, with very little in between. It somehow suited him though. He didn’t want to socialize, to put on a happy face and pretend that everything was wonderful. He loved the excuse that all the long hours and working six days gave him—it was his get-out-of-jail-free card.
So what if my friends, other than the guys, have stopped calling? It doesn’t matter that the invitations have dried up. That’s what happens when you turn every one of them down. No more parties, no more openings, no more corporate wining and dining. Not that I want those things. It’s better this way, anyway.
With a final swipe of the well-worn timber, he rinsed the cloth, gave it a good wring out, and hung it over the elegant spout of the sink. He wiped his hands on a clean tea towel as he walked to the front door and unlocked the deadbolts. He turned the sign to Open, tucked the tea towel into the top of the apron tied snugly around his hips, and returned to his position behind the counter, ready for the small office crowd who would soon be lining up for their morning dose of caffeine.
He didn’t have long to wait. He was putting the last of the freshly baked lemon and poppyseed muffins on the display stand when the bell above the door tinkled. A blast of chilly air, carrying the smells of the city and the sound of construction, accompanied the customer into the cafe. Tom fumbled with the muffin, catching it just in time before it hit the floor.
“Good catch.” The words were accompanied by a chuckle.
Tom replaced the glass dome over the towering pile and met the gaze of the guy who’d been coming into the cafe for the last couple of weeks. He’d been coming in later in the day so Tom hadn’t expected to see him this early, although there was no doubt it was a pleasant surprise.
“Good morning.”
“That’s a matter of opinion,” the guy said.
“Huh?”
The guy rubbed his hands together vigorously and smiled. “It’s freezing out there today and the bloody wind is horrible. At least it’s nice in here though.”
The fire might not have been working but the air conditioning was doing a fabulous job of taking the chill off the air. Tom liked to think his decor also contributed to the warmth of the atmosphere in Take Two—a few rugs, richly coloured scatter cushions on the couches, soft lighting, and tasteful artwork in hues of red and yellow. It might not have been sparkly and new, but it most definitely wasn’t bland and boring.
“Did you want a coffee to go?” Takeaways were common this time of the day.
“That’d be great. A flat white. Large. Thanks.” The guy fished out his wallet while Tom moved to the espresso machine and started preparing his drink.
“Do you work around here?” He looked across from the machine as he made small talk. He’d asked the same question countless times before, but found he really was curious to know more about this customer. He enjoyed finding out about most of his customers, but this particular one with his messy brown hair and soft grey eyes had particularly piqued his interest.
“Just a block or two along. Wonder Energy. Do you know it?”
Tom nodded. He knew of the company and recalled seeing the familiar lanyard on some of his customers. “Quite a few of their employees come in here. What do you do there?” The guy didn’t look overly corporate—no three-piece suit and no tie, just neat beige pants, white dress shirt open at the collar, and a woollen overcoat. A plain blue scarf hung around his neck, the colour enhancing the grey of his eyes.
“Nothing glamorous. I work the phones in customer service.” He looked slightly embarrassed as he shrugged.
“And I brew coffee. Not exactly the glamorous life.” Tom chuckled and was relieved to see the guy relax. The tension left his shoulders and he stopped fidgeting with his wallet. “I’m Tom, by the way.”
“I’m Bailey. You own Take Two?”
“Yep. It might be half falling down but it’s all mine.”
Bailey glanced around. “I like it. There’s something comfortable about the place. It’s very welcoming.”
“You must like it. I’ve seen you in here a few times.”
Is that a hint of a blush?
Bailey lowered his eyes then looked back up. He smiled showed slightly crooked front teeth. Adorable. “It’s close to work and the coffee’s good.”
“And speaking of coffee, here’s your flat white.”
“And the service isn’t too bad either.”
And is he flirting?
Tom’s pulse sped up. Bailey’s fingers brushed Tom’s as he took the cardboard cup. He almost expected sparks of electricity at the touch and laughed inwardly at his own foolishness, but it did make him feel somewhat warm inside to be on the receiving end of Bailey’s flirty banter. God, I hope it’s flirting. Time to up the game and see if he was on the right track.
“Aww… shucks. Bet you say that to all the boys,” Tom teased.
Bailey laughed. “I—” Bailey’s phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket to shut off the alarm. He looked up apologetically. “Damn, I’m running late. I’m on the early shift and need to be logged on the phone by seven on the dot.” He fumbled for his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar note.
Tom passed over his change and quickly stamped a coffee card. “Bring this back each visit and every tenth coffee is on the house.” Tom smiled at the ridiculous notion that the lure of free coffee would see Bailey visiting the coffee shop more frequently.
“Thanks, Tom,” Bailey replied with a grin as he shoved the card into his wallet and the coins into his pocket. “See you next time.”
Tom nodded and watched Bailey leave. He paused outside the broad glass window and did something on his phone, then pocketed the device and looked up. Their gazes met through the window and that feeling in the pit of Tom’s stomach made itself known. He forced himself to look away.
But his blue mood had definitely lifted and suddenly the early morning start didn’t seem so bad after all.
* * *
“Did we piss you off last week?”
Tom passed Phil a beer and collapsed onto the couch next to his friend. “When?”
“The other day when we—when I—when we all offered to help you with the renovations to the cafe?”
Tom sighed. “No, I wasn’t upset. I know you guys just want to help, but it’s important to do it myself. I think we’ve beaten this topic to death.”
Phil took a swallow from the bottle of Coopers as he studied Tom. Tom clutched his own beer as he waited. He knew Phil was trying to think of how to proceed. He hoped the decision would be to change the topic, but he knew Phil and therefore knew Phil wouldn’t be giving up easily. One, two, three.
Phil leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And maybe because we’re your friends we just want to help.”
“Phil—”
“No. If it was one of us, you’d be the first person to offer a hand. You helped John get that job with the law firm—”
“I just heard about the vacancy from an old colleague, and fat lot of good that did. He’s most likely going to be retrenched.”
Phil rolled his eyes. “And you gave Elliot a place to stay when he was out on his arse.”
“That Gerald was a piece of work and I couldn’t have Elliot going back to his parents’ place, not with the way things were.”
“He could have gone to a hotel.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? What sort of friend would I be if I allowed a best mate to stay in a hotel when I had a perfectly good couch for him to sleep on, especially in the state Elliot was in.” Even now it made Tom’s blood boil to think of the bruises on his friend.
John raised a brow. “And what sort of friend would I be if I watched a buddy struggle when it’s perfectly in my capability to offer a hand?”
“I’m not struggling.”
“I’m a skilled carpenter. I’m only offering you my time, just like I’d do for anyone else I cared about. I’m not making a special offer just for you. I’d do it for any of my friends.”
“Phil—”
“And to be perfectly frank, it’s pissing me off that you won’t accept. What is it? Aren’t I good enough? You don’t think I’m up for the job?”
Tom sighed. “You know it’s not that.”
“Then what is it? I seriously don’t understand the do-it-yourself mentality. It doesn’t make you any less of a person to accept help. That’s what makes the world go around.”
Tom collapsed back against the cushions, the wind suddenly knocked from his sails. “I don’t know, Phil. I guess I’ve been focused for so long on doing it all myself that it’s become habit.”
“I know, buddy, I know.” Phil leaned forward and placed a hand on Tom’s thigh, the weight of his touch comforting. “You don’t have to keep paying forever, Tom. No one holds you accountable.”
Tom’s raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“No one who’s important anyway.”
Tom nodded. Logic told him that was true—the people who counted where the three guys who comprised his small circle of friends. Phil, Elliot, and John. They didn’t judge him on his past mistakes. Well, maybe they did but they didn’t hold his mistakes against him. They understood why he’d gotten himself in deep and how hard he’d worked to make amends. They forgave him for his one lapse in judgment. Now if only he could do so himself.
Phil finally let the subject drop. They turned their attention to the Friday night rugby league game and Tom focused on giving Phil a hard time when his beloved Rabbitohs were mightily smashed by Tom’s favourite team, the Sea Eagles. There was nothing like friendly rivalry over supporting different NRL teams to help forget your worries.