Café Lov Read online

  Café Lov

  Samantha Lau

  Published by SL Press, 2015.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CAFÉ LOV

  First edition. October 16, 2015.

  Copyright © 2015 Samantha Lau.

  ISBN: 978-1393500230

  Written by Samantha Lau.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

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  1

  It was still snowing, but it was warm and cozy indoors. The gloominess of the day seemed unable to penetrate the threshold of the modest coffee house, where several people were taking refugee from the cold weather, enjoying hot drinks and sweet treats while talking or working. Vanya looked up from the table he was serving as a shiny shape slowly came to a stop across the window. It was a slick black car, quite new and fancy, the kind he’d only seen in movies –or driving by on streets– but never had a chance to buy himself. And it was now parked right outside.

  Out came a driver, complete with a black uniform and a matching hat, and opened the back door to a well-dressed man. Vanya looked on as if in trance. It was like watching a movie star exit a limousine. The man that came out was tall, with wide shoulders and a strong frame. The dark suit he wore seemed bespoken, clearly tailored to a perfect fit. The sunglasses that adorned his face were just the right size, just the right shape, to compliment his features. He was no expert, but the leather shoes looked like they were made of real leather, and a poor choice to be using out in such a snowy day. The short hair was slicked back, completing the perfect businessman look. Except, that was, for the designer beard. The stubble made him look just a little rugged, just a little unkempt.

  He shouldn’t have been this surprised, he knew. They’d had wealthy customers before, they were but blocks away from the business district after all, but none had ever arrived complete with a driver. Maybe, he thought, the man wasn’t coming to the shop. Maybe he was going somewhere else. There was a fancy enough restaurant across the street, and the guy seemed distracted enough now, having pulled out an equally pricey phone...

  He might have wondered all day about the man, had a waitress not bumped her elbow to his back in passing. She looked back at him over her shoulder with a cheeky grin.

  “Are you planning on working today or will you just stand there staring?”

  He snorted and moved after her, back to the counter where another round of orders awaited.

  “What’s it to you?” he asked, teasing her “It’s not like you can fire me.”

  “I’ll still tell on you with the boss,” she joked, smirking. When he rolled his eyes in response, she teased further, giving him a playfully wide-eyed look “If you fire yourself, does that mean I get to be the owner?”

  Vanya had to hold back from rolling his eyes again, instead focusing on placing everything on the tray. “No.”

  She sighed in disappointment. “That’s too bad. When you’re done with that, you can see to table five, they’ve been waving your way for ten minutes now."

  It was an exaggeration of course, but Vanya sighed and nodded, calling her bossy before taking the order to the right table and finally seeing to the new arrivals at table five.

  "What's so exciting about that guy anyway?" Sasha asked once they returned from serving their respective tables. Vanya looked back outside. The car remained, but the man was gone. It took him a moment to realize the stranger had entered the coffee shop and was now sitting near the windows. The sunglasses were now gone and he could plainly see his slanted eyes.

  "Nothing, really." He answered at length. "I mean, the car just caught my eye." His statement was met with a raised brow.

  "Since when are you into cars?"

  “Always,” He said defiantly.

  “Please, you can’t tell a truck from a bike,” she joked. “Here, I’ll be super nice to you and let you tend to him, even though he’s at one of my tables.” And with that, she walked off with another full tray.

  Vanya looked back towards the well-dressed stranger, then shrugged and approached his table. It was hard not to let his mind wander. It did that sometimes, making up little stories about the customers that arrived, just to entertain himself; he’d done this since he’d been just a child, first coming through the doors into this same shop, watching all the interesting people around, each one with a different story to tell... This one, with his good looks and his expensive suit, he fancied as some sort of spy. Perhaps one that was to have a secret meeting there. He shook his head and thought he really had to stop daydreaming. It was just not healthy.

  With his best smile, he said, “Welcome to Café Lov. May I take your order?”

  The man didn’t even look up. He was busy checking something on his phone.

  “Coffee, black.”

  “Could I offer you some cake with that? We have the house’s special–”

  “No,” was the simple answer, the manners curt.

  Vanya tried not to sigh. Saying ‘thank you’ didn’t cost a thing, yet people seemed to forget even that simple pleasantry.

  “Very well,” he offered, smile fading a little, taking a step back to fetch the order. Just as he was about to step out of hearing range, the man spoke again.

  “Is the owner in?”

  Vanya wondered if the guy had purposefully waited until he was moving away just to make him walk back. He still turned and retraced his steps. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’d like a word with him.”

  Again Vanya nodded and headed off. Since he was going to be a dick, Vanya figured he could well make him wait a bit to see the owner. When finally he brought the coffee back to the Asian man, he let himself plop down on the chair across from him. The expression that greeted him: the arched brow and stern stare, were amusing enough to be worth the curiosity making him wait had caused.

  “What are you doing?” the man asked.

  “You said you wanted a word with the owner, I’m the owner.” Vanya explained.

  He waited patiently as those dark brown eyes surveyed him, up and down, appraising, likely trying to figure out if he was telling the truth or pulling his leg.

  “You’re the owner?” he asked again.

  Vanya took his turn to raise a brow. “Owner, waiter, barista. I’m a man of many talents. What did you want to talk about?”

  The man paused, then reached in his pocket to pull out a business card, which he extended to Vanya.

  “My name is Tatsuya Tobe. I represent a company that’s interested in purchasing your property.”

  Vanya took the card, read it, but said, “My property is not for sale.”

  “We are aware of that,” Tatsuya said “But our company believes we can provide you with an offer that will change your mind.”

  “I highly doubt that,” Vanya said just as the man extended a second paper, this one folded in half. Vanya raised a brow and took it, unfolding it, other brow arching just like the first as he read the number scribbled on the note, eyes widening slightly, briefly. That was a lot of money... more than he’d paid for the place himself... and yet he still couldn’t bring himself to sell it. Very slowly, he folded the note and slid it back.

  “Like I said,” he repeated “My café is not for sale.”

  “If that’s not enough,” Tatsuya said, taking the note back and opening it to scribble a new number on it, “my company is prepared to raise the offer.” />
  “Look, I’m uh... I don’t want to be rude, but my café is simply not for sale. No matter the offer, I just have no interest in selling it.”

  “Everything has a price, Mr. Orlov,”

  It was obvious this man had done his research before coming to the café, but perhaps he’d not done enough of it, seeing as he kept insisting when Vanya had already refused him.

  “Not this.”

  The man extended the folded note again. Vanya hesitated, eyeing the paper and finally too curious not to take it an unfold it, well aware this might seem like encouragement, but unable to stop himself. He tried not to gape at the numbers on the paper. He quickly folded it back and this time sharply held the note back to the man.

  “I’m sorry, this is a very generous offer for sure, but it just doesn’t matter how much you write down, I have no plans to sell.” Having said this, Vanya stood. “Enjoy your coffee.”

  “I’m sure we could reach a satisfying agreement... ”

  “I’m sure we couldn’t. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”

  Tatsuya pursed his lips slightly, a light frown creasing his forehead, yet Vanya ignored the man’s discontent and retreated back into his work. At least he’d intended to do so until the man spoke up again.

  “It would be in your best interest to sell to us, Mr. Orlov. I’m sure you’ll realize soon.”

  Perhaps it’d been the cold, flat way in which the man had spoken, but the statement did not sit well with Vanya, who turned on his heels to face him.

  “Are you threatening me?” he asked.

  Tatsuya, who had just reached to have a sip of his coffee, stopped halfway and gave him a slightly curious look. The nearby patrons had also turned their attention to them at Vanya raising his voice and asking such a thing.

  “I’m merely stating a fact,” Tatsuya said calmly. “With our offer you could–”

  But it was too late. Something about that statement had simply not done it for Vanya, and now he was just too angry.

  “Get out,” he said, pointing the businessman to the door. “Get out now.”

  Tatsuya gave him a long up and down look, as if measuring him for battle. Vanya was about the same height as the man, though Tatsuya seemed to have a bit more muscle than him. All the same, Vanya was ready for a fight, where Tatsuya did not seem interested in one. The businessman got up, fished for some money in his wallet and, after dropping it on the table next to the unfinished coffee, started towards the door.

  “We’ll meet again, I’m sure,” he called as parting words.

  Vanya glared at this. “Out!”

  The call was quite unnecessary, as Tatsuya was already out the door.

  As he stalked back to the counter, Vanya muttered soft curses in his mother tongue. Sasha, his dear little sister, appeared by his side shortly after. His good friend and barista, who had been manning the counter, also approached them.

  “What’s with that guy?” Tom asked, “What did he tell you to rattle you like this?”

  “Nothing,” Vanya grumbled “He wanted to buy us out, I said no.”

  Sasha frowned, reaching up to pat his back. “I thought I heard something about a threat.”

  “With your volume, half the shop heard it,” Tom said with a snort of mild amusement.

  Vanya half glared at Tom, but his gaze softened when he looked at his sister; her wrinkled brow and pursed lips, and the way she was looking at him with worry clear in her eyes. He didn’t want her to look this worried.

  “It was nothing, just a misunderstanding. I overreacted,” he said, which might have been true “He was just not taking a no for an answer, so I got defensive. Let’s all just get back to work.”

  Sasha didn’t look overly convinced, but she obeyed; he was still her boss too, after all. Later she could talk to him and make sure everything was really alright.

  2

  Tatsuya eased into one of the comfortable leather seats of the car. Pulling out his phone, he unlocked it and flipped his way to the file he’d been sent earlier.

  Ivan Orlov. Thirty-one. Single. Son of Russian immigrants, parents dead, one sibling. He’d acquired the coffee shop precisely six months ago. Tatsuya kind of wished the file had come with a photo, he would have been spared the initial surprise of finding the owner waiting tables too; but then, he should have assumed Orlov to be involved. According to the file the man had needed a loan to purchase the property, that couldn’t leave too much money for hiring help. It was probably a family operation. Tatsuya knew he’d been a bit hasty in his initial assumption now. He’d thought offering the man enough to pay over the loan and still have enough to get himself a new piece of property elsewhere to start his business over would be enough. It usually was. People could usually be convinced simply – the money was generally enough, sometimes a bit of a verbal cue, a hint that it was more than enough to take their business elsewhere and starting over would be much easier with that amount and the experience they’d acquired.

  Not with Ivan Orlov, apparently. The man had not been tempted by the money, and had not allowed Tatsuya to put a word in about the suggestion. It’d been quite long since he’d had troubles with a buyout, since he’d last been told no. Perhaps he’d gotten too confident, too comfortable, with knowing that people would take their offers.

  As he looked out the car window, watching but paying no mind to the world beyond, he pondered on what course of action to take next. Perhaps he should let the man settle for a few days, mull it over before going back and asking again. Sometimes it was all it took, for them to keep thinking of the money. But Orlov did not strike him like the greedy type. It might not be enough, and so he’d need to have some plans prepared, just in case.

  His attention was drawn back to the real world as the car pulled up at his work place; a tall building of black granite walls and wide, glass front doors, with big red letters above it reading “JUBA”. Through the white-washed lobby, he nodded to the security agents and made his way up the executive’s elevator to the 21st floor. He continued down the corridors and to his office, until he paused at his secretary’s desk.

  “Any calls?” he asked in Japanese. All business within these walls was conducted in his mother tongue. Tatsuya hadn’t been born in Japan, but he’d been over a few times. Working inside this building had always felt like going back to Japan... minus the 14 hours plane ride.

  “Shacho–sama wished to see you as soon as you returned, boss.” The woman said, grabbing a small pile of note cards to the side. “The meeting at eleven with Matsuyama–kacho has been rescheduled for tomorrow at nine. Mr. Stevens called to request... ”

  Tatsuya tuned her out. The boss wanted to see him? He’d barely only given him this job, he couldn’t be expecting results already, could he?

  “... cancelled. Hiroshi–sama requests a meeting at your convenience and begs you call...”

  He looked back at his secretary and held up a hand to stop her. “Leave them on my desk. I’ll go see Higa–Shacho.”

  She nodded and turned back to her work.

  Tatsuya dropped off his suitcase in his office, then once again took the elevator two more floors.

  While Tatsuya’s floor was clearly already an executive area, the 23rd floor –reserved only for the company’s president and vice–president– was even more luxurious, with ample wide spaces and many recreational areas, as well as the largest meeting room of all.

  Two secretaries, so alike in their glass desks and black dresses that they could have been twins, sat one at each side, flanking one last, small security station. The man behind it eyed Tatsuya with distrust, but knew him and thus did not bother him.

  He approached the secretary on the right.

  “Tobe Tatsuya to see Higa–Shacho.” He announced formally.

  The woman lifted the phone to announce him to her boss, then smiled pleasantly and pointed him with a hand to the double doors to the man’s office. “He is waiting.”

  Tatsuya thanked her with a soft
word and a small bow and went to the door. He knocked, but entered without waiting for approval.

  “Ah!” The CEO of JUBA was a short, slightly stout man. He was already in his fifties, hair white, skin dark from the sun. He never beat around the bush, and he didn’t this time either. “Tobe–san. What’s the news? Do we have the building?”

  Tobe, following formalities, first bowed deeply.

  “Shacho–sama.” He greeted, then answered, “I’m afraid we don’t. But I already have a plan of action,” he said hastily, straightening as he said this, and thus unable to miss the creasing of his boss’ brow as he was given the bad news.

  “I understand you’ve only been given this commission this morning,” Higa said, playing patient, standing from behind his desk to pour himself a glass of some dark liquor. “So I won’t hold your failure against you, yet. But know that this is a very important matter to us. I wish to have it resolved as soon as possible.”

  Tatsuya bowed understanding. “Yes, Shacho–sama.”

  “Why was the sale not agreed upon today?”

  Tatsuya pursed his lips. “The owner refuses to sell, sir. But I will find a way,” he assured him “Everyone has a price.”

  Higa gave him a sympathetic look, one that looked all too fake. “Or a secret,” he stated casually. “Do what you must to get it before the end of the month, Tobe-san, or it’ll be the last you do for me.”

  The boss turned away, clearly dismissing him.

  Tatsuya’s hands balled into fists. He bowed deeply again and mumbled a soft agreement, then quickly turned and left the office. The entire elevator ride, and the walk back to his office, was spent seething. Ten years! A little over ten years of his life he’d dedicated to this company, gotten them the best contracts, found and bought the best companies. Ten years, and it could all be trashed away if he did not get this one, stupid little building. Glaring at nothing, Tatsuya plopped angrily down on his comfortable chair. What was so exciting about it anyway? The coffee shop was small. The building was old. Even the renovations Orlov had done to the interior might not be enough to keep it standing for more than a couple of years at most. Not that it really mattered... Tatsuya was certain Higa wanted this property for the new building, which meant the little old coffee shop would be torn down. But the location wasn’t good.