“Done,” I smiled back, stifling a giggle.
“What else do you have to sort out?”
I held my free arm up to the filthy windows of the old office. “This. I’ve always wanted my own café. Always. And I never wanted to do it alone. Holst has the experience I don’t, so in theory, it’s perfect.”
Holst. Even his name gave me anxiety.
Cam gave me a second, but only a second, before he asked, “You gonna tell me the reason it isn’t perfect?”
And that was the moment I opened that place deep inside me and shared just enough to make the pain visible and let Cam see it. “He reminds me of someone, and I don’t know if that’s such a good idea for me.”
He’d seen me cry, once. Tori, never. I kept my emotions on a tight leash. But Cam made me feel safe enough to share, so I decided to give a little more.
“Every time he opens his mouth, I turn into a crazy person.” Yeah, the crazy person being the vulnerable girl I was at twenty. That’s who I became every single time I was around Holst. “Anyway,” I said, trying to shake off the heavy, “take care of my girl. I’m gonna spend some time in this dump and see if it speaks to me through the power of Cuervo.”
In hindsight, I should’ve snagged the Patron.
“You know where to find us. Don’t worry about the time. If you need us, Kath, we’re right upstairs.”
“Your wedding night?” I chuckled. “That’s so not gonna happen. Night, Cam. And congratulations,” I said warmly.
I then took the key Holst had given to me to “look around the place” and opened the door to find two huge, leather chairs. I locked the door and uncapped the bottle in my hand. After the first swig, I looked at one of the beckoning big, empty chairs. As the liquor took effect and the emotions I’d held onto began to let go, I spoke to the only man who’d ever really known me. Thirteen years and still, I wished he was there to guide me.
“Think I should do it?” I asked.
The other chair didn’t answer.
And it wasn’t long until my tears, washed down with tequila, put me to sleep.
Katherine
I felt…cozy, and it occurred to me this was the opposite of what I should be feeling. I wasn’t a stranger to drowning my sorrows in alcohol, but in the last six months, I’d taken stock of my life—soon after I was sure Tori and Cam were absolutely gonna make it—and when I did, I came to some hard truths. The most important of those, I needed to take better care of myself, physically and emotionally.
I’d always had the habit of going for long walks the day after a big night on the booze. I left the comfort of my soft bed, downed some Advil, and stepped outside. Absolutely nothing beat sunshine and fresh air to remind your body it was alive…even if you felt like death. Now, I hadn’t been drinking, which meant I hadn’t been exercising much. But the lack of drinkable calories seemed to even out, and, thankfully, I hadn’t put on weight. Not much, anyway.
Because I’d been abstaining, I thought I’d feel horrid after my tequila-transfusion, but as I began to stretch, I felt something heavy draped over me, my shoes were off, and the distinct aroma of coffee permeated the air.
Then I heard the gentle turn of a newspaper page, and that’s when I knew…
I wasn’t alone.
Fuck.
“Are you awake, Katherine?”
Holst.
I’d come to the empty café space for solitude. If I’d gone home, I knew eventually Goya would stop by and expect sex and answers from me. I was happy to provide the sex, the answers to his questions, not so much.
“I’m awake,” I replied, and if my eyes were open, I would’ve rolled them. No matter what I said to the contrary, Holst insisted on calling me by my full name, and I fucking hated that.
“I came in about half-past seven; decided to let you sleep. Your skin was like ice, so I left, grabbed a blanket from my trunk, came back, and covered you up. Then I went to get us coffee and breakfast.” He paused before he added, “And a newspaper.”
When Tori and I became roommates, we both decided to get jobs in town. Tori landed a gig at Tresso, a huge giftware place on Forest Avenue. Through her, I got a job at Greg Tresso’s smaller shop called Grizzly, right on Pacific Coast Highway. Grizzly sold California-themed merchandise, most of it handcrafted and geared toward the wealthy tourist.
I loved my job, and Tori loved hers, our boss was a fantastic guy, but I think most people would love to be their own boss. Tori was the first to follow her dream. Tresso had a huge stationery range and sold invitations, but Laguna didn’t have a shop specifically for that. So, Tori opened one, right next door to Beachy Bride. She hired a gal named Ruby, who made all sorts of party favors, to specifically match the invites. Whether it was a bar mitzvah or a divorce party, she and Ruby designed entire packages to accommodate the customer’s needs, from the invite down to the decorations.
This left me with the opportunity to manage Tresso. It was a much bigger store and more responsibility. I could handle it. I could handle it with my eyes closed and juggle flame throwers. My point being, it didn’t challenge me.
But my friends were kind of like meddling, nosy neighbors, and Dee was possibly the worst offender. She managed Beachy Bride and had this weird thing going with Frodo down at Coastal Ink. The guy was an incredible tattoo artist and seemed to be smitten with our Dee. Unfortunately, she’d been burned by an ex, and I hoped she got her head out of her ass before her chance with Frodo was gone.
Because he was a fantastic guy.
He also told me about his tattooed client with cash to burn and a dream to open a coffee shop in Laguna. It wasn’t lost on me that Laguna Beach needed another café like a hole in the head, but the old office I was sitting in was right next door to the tattoo shop, two doors away from my best friend’s front gate, and just a flight of stairs down from a popular bridal and stationary shop…this part of Laguna was café-light. There was a taco joint not far away, and, truth be told, I’d probably take the taco over coffee before someone jabbed my skin multiple times with an ink-filled needle. Still…if I stood on the sidewalk and looked around, there were five small hotels, tons of apartments, houses…and a surf shop.
The café would be a success.
But the memory of a conversation I’d had with my dad last time he breezed through town invaded.
“What are your plans for the future, Katherine?”
“Well…” I bravely and honestly replied, “I’d like to open my own little café eventually.”
“Not with my money you’re not. I don’t want your failure tied to the family. Understand me?”
I tried not to let his negativity affect me. But seeing as how I’d just secured a small business loan using the apartment building he gave me as collateral, I couldn’t fuck it up.
“Katherine,” Holst called. “When you’re ready, I have the business proposal here. We can start the meeting whenever you like.”
Yeah, he’d called three days ago and said he was ready, made this date with me the day after Tori and Cam’s vow renewal, and I’d texted back, “Fine, whatever, see you then.” God, I was such a bitch to him, and I swear, my behavior was completely out of my control.
“Coffee was mentioned?” I asked.
He pushed off from the desk where he’d been reading the paper and silently handed me a cup. That first taste was fucking glorious. He stood above me, looming. Maybe waiting for a thank you, which would’ve been the polite thing to do. There was only one problem with that: I’d have to make eye contact, and to make eye contact, I’d have to look at him, and when I did that, the crazy in me woke up from her long slumber, slapped on her bitch-amour, and spoke for me. But with no other option…
I looked up at him.
Holst had one of those year-round tans which prompted me to ask, “Are you always this tan?”