The place had style. That's for sure.
James asked what he could get for me, but I waved him off. The record store had piqued my interest, and after the long flight I wanted to stretch my legs anyway.
I took my hat and sunglasses off as I walked in. Black Rocket Records was more than just its namesake. There were racks of old books, records, novelties, coffee bar and even a stage for live music. Teenagers' paradise.
Heads started turning and a few people stepped out of my way. It might have been a long time since I'd been back here, but people had TVs and smart phones. They knew who I was.
I smiled back at a few pretty girls and shook one guy’s hand who let me cut in front of him at the coffee line. I wasn't looking for special treatment, but who was I to say no? The line was only a few people long and no else seemed to have a problem with it so I stepped up to the ordering station.
“Hello?” I asked, looking around. The wall behind the register was lined with all sorts of fancy presses, slow drips, steamers and brewing stations. They were all actively in the process of doing…something.
I leaned forward resting my cufflinks atop a glass counter top—which encapsulated an elaborate collage of Alice in Wonderland pictures—and asked again, louder this time.
It was all very trendy, but where was the barista?
“One second!” A strained female voice sharply called up from beneath the bar. “How many?”
“I'd like a coffee?” Why would they want to know how many before what kind?
“Yeah, no shit. How many?” The annoyed voice snapped back.
I cocked an eyebrow at the rudeness of the disembodied voice. I couldn't even remember the last time someone took that tone with me. No, thanks, I thought prepping to leave. There are plenty of other coffee places in town.
I was in the process of turning to leave when the barista finally popped straight up with a stack of cups in each arm.
She was short, petite, had a shock of short black hair and was pale enough to make a vampire envious. She wore a faded, black, obscure band T-shirt, had glittering studs running up both her ears, and eye shadow dark enough to drain the light from the room.
I'd never been into the alt-rock girls, but right away I could tell there was something very different about this one.
I glanced down her slight form for a name tag, but of course she didn't have one. Maybe it was that she was so far from the perfect blonde Hollywood type that got my blood pumping. Or maybe it was her eyes. She had these light gray irises that crackled like storm clouds before a hard rain.
Suddenly coffee was the last thing on my mind. Who was this girl?
“Well?” the barista asked impatiently, wiping the sweat from her face with the crook of her elbow.
“Caffè Macchiato,” I started my order, but was quickly interrupted with an annoyed look and an upraised index finger.
I followed the pointing gesture to a sign above her head that read, “Coffee made our way. Deal with it.”
“Are you always this rude? Or am I just the lucky punching bag today?”
The barista narrowed her eyes. “That's kind of our whole deal here. That and I don't like those that cut in line.”
How had she even seen me? Was she part ninja?
I was just about to protest that they all let me pass when a tall blonde woman stepped up behind the barista, cutting her off.
“Hi there! I'm Judy.” She was as chipper as the dark haired girl was not. It was a stark contrast. “I saw your interview on the Late Show. You did such a good job. So handsome in that pinstripe suit! It's so nice to meet you! We're more of a self serve kind of place, but we can make an exception for one of the Kings of Caldwell Hope. That was a Caffè Macchiato, right?”
Her voice was cotton candy and her cadence was rapidly popping popcorn. Did this woman ever breathe? Now I desperately needed the coffee just to follow this conversation.
“Hi.” I squeezed the greeting in somewhere between her flood of words. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Gloria makes it much better than I could ever dream of!” Judy switched from me to her raven-haired partner. “Would you mind?” She held up her hands in a pleading motion then mouthed the word “Please.”
I smiled at their unlikely dynamic. It was obvious that they were peers, probably co-owners.
How did that work?
I couldn't imagine two people more different. They were the sun and the moon.
Gloria sighed at Judy's cheeriness, then walked off toward the self service station without giving me another glance. I couldn't take my eyes off her as she left. When she stepped out from the bar I could see her mid-thigh-length black skirt and milky, smooth legs.
The sight of her slight form swaying got my blood pumping.
Judy told me the coffee was on the house, then asked for a selfie with me. I obliged, distractedly. I caught Gloria looking over at me discretely as she made my coffee. It gave me an unexpected thrill. I might have to come back here and see her again before I flew out of town.
“Here,” Gloria said, handing me the drink. Her voice had a bite to it that deepened my smirk. “Your Majesty.”
I thought about getting Gloria's number, but when I looked up she was already ringing out another customer. I slipped a fifty into the tip jar and flashed Gloria a wink, then I left.
Outside James waited with his arms behind his back. He opened the car door for me as I approached. The coffee smelled delicious, but was still too hot to drink. I peeled the cover off to help it cool faster and slowed to a stop when I saw the design.
“Is everything alright?” James asked, easily seeing the intrigued expression on my face. “I hope there wasn't a mix up.”
In the brown and white of the foamed milk topped coffee was the artistically drawn image of a cock and balls; throbbing veins and all.
“No.” I glanced back through the glass doors and took a scalding sip. Her outline was clear in the lit room. The glare and the distance made it impossible to make out her stormy eyes, but I had the feeling that Gloria was still watching me. I smiled as I looked at her. “This one has my name written all over it.”
Chapter 3
Lucas
Pulling up to my father's fifty million dollar mansion, I'm reminded just how different I am from the rest of the family.
The sprawling stone and glass building was beautifully integrated into the gently slopping hill at the far end, giving it a natural look and blending it into the lush green surroundings nearly seamlessly.
An unbroken view of Caldwell Hope stretched out in the valley below in all its glory. Blue-tipped mountains seemed to cradle the property and framed the house in a way that would make postcards jealous.
This was a castle fit for a King who liked to watch over his kingdom.
I slowed my bike as I crested the driveway and made my way toward the garage and main entrance. There was no front yard. Instead there was a massive man-made pond and waterfall. The early afternoon was cloudy enough that the accent lighting which ran up each pillar was visible in the shimmering water before it, making the already huge house look much bigger.
If you could hire God for architecture side work this was what he'd build.
I killed the engine and sighed at the picturesque tranquility of it all. Yeah, it was pretty. All of it was super impressive...in a fucking useless and selfish way.