What's The Worst... Chapter 11

The weather forecast had suggested that the day would be a pleasant enough autumn, some sunshine, a little cloud, a stiff northerly breeze, but no rain, or snow. So much for accuracy; it was a beautifully crisp, cold autumn day, a clear blue sky, with a light breeze from no particular direction and bright sunshine.

Clare and Trisha walked quickly from the bus stop to the club. The entrance was just off the main road, down a short, but open, alley.

Dorothy had held back as the girls had come down the stairs, but it seemed they had forgotten the recent event and were now thoroughly engrossed in each other’s company. She stepped off the bus, paused again to be sure which way they were going and then followed at a steadier pace. She watched as they turned into an alley and disappeared from view.

Kevin opened the door as the pair approached, looked pointedly at his watch and glared in their general direction, “I said first thing this morning!!!”

Subconsciously Trisha fell back slightly, simultaneously Clare took a nominal lead; it was ever thus when they approached a situation requiring tact and people skills. Although Trisha would have no problems at all dealing with Kevin, he was actually a reasonable and pleasant guy, Clare’s natural buzz always seemed to lighten things up most quickly,

“Wotcha Kevin!!!”

“Kinda looks like time keeping just ain’t what it used to be, but the sun’s shinin’, there’ll be more folks out and about,”

“I betcha we’ll be finished quicker ‘n ya can brew up a couple of cups of that great nectar of yours…”

Kevin continued to tap his foot on the ground, a little, but broke into a beaming grin; he’d always been proud of making great coffee, and of sharing it with people, for a nominal fee of course...

Kevin had spent, in his view, too many years trapped in the daily grind of the cubicle hell that is a modern IT company. In all of those years he had been a fully paid up, stereotypical geek and as with most of his kind, coffee was a dietary staple; but as with most offices, the version available to him had been a disappointing travesty.

The endless round of tedious meetings, impossible deadlines and dreadful coffee had finally come to an end with the curious coincidence of a round of voluntary redundancies, a chance conversation with an acquaintance in commercial property and the general emergence of a coffee shop culture on the English high street.

Kevin had used his payoff to fund taking over the lease of a recently failed restaurant in a good location and creating his idea of an internet cafe about two years before any of the traditional coffee shops started offering free Wi-Fi to their customers. During the afternoon and early evening the club operated thus but instead of rows of utilitarian benches sagging under the weight of aging, noisy hardware, this was an oasis of calm with a gentle ambient undertone of 80’s power ballads and soft rock. The space was sprinkled with plush leather sofas; each sofa had a swing table at either end, as well as a traditional coffee table placed before it. Each area was provided with power and connectivity; the customers were free to bring in their own machines, or they could rent laptops by the hour.

If you were logged on and being charged, the coffee was free; if you were just passing time the coffee was chargeable.

Despite a lot of his friends telling him that he was still living in the past and that people wouldn’t warm to the venue it turned out that the 80’s was a secret pleasure of more than a passing handful of middle-aged geeks, who liked to use the internet, who liked to drink coffee and who were actually very sociable.

As a general rule he hadn’t needed to advertise very much. Word of mouth had proved to be a very powerful medium, and he knew the coffee was good. Every now and then though, a prudent prod of Joe Public was in order and hand distributed fliers were Kevin’s preferred approach.

Kevin looked again at the two girls,

“Okay, okay, let’s go with half the fliers, you guys can do some more another day…”

He turned back in through the door and Clare and Trisha followed.

Dorothy watched the two girls greet the large man and disappear inside the building; she looked around for a place to sit, guessing that the girls would eventually come back through the same door. She didn’t even consider how long that might take, or indeed why she was waiting at all. These things seemed in equal parts to be unimportant and beyond meaningful rationalisation. So she just waited.

Despite the dark appearance of the outside of the club the interior was remarkably bright. This was largely due to the use of what was effectively one way glass on the two outer walls. The glass offered an almost unobstructed view to the outside whilst appearing an obsidian facade to passers by.

Kevin rationalised this insight into the more remote corners of his psyche on the basis that most people didn’t like being gawked at by the thronging masses as they sat and enjoyed a drink, a book, or a spot of surfing.

Trisha followed Clare, who followed Kevin toward the small bar in the far corner of the large room. Unlike some places it wasn’t a case of squeezing between tightly packed chairs and tables. The tables were all well spaced and she liked the feeling of opulence that Kevin had managed to create; she also had to admit that the music was okay, a bit dated, but okay...

Kevin arrived at the bar and deftly swung over the counter landing lightly in front of one of the three drinks stations,

“I betcha don’ let other folks do that!!!”

Kevin turned and smiled at Clare,

“Damn straight I don’t”

He reached under the counter and pulled out an opened cardboard box. A sample flier was attached to the outside of the box. He placed it before the girls,

“There you go, just a thousand or so to get out there…”

Clare rolled her eyes toward Trisha,

“Dude, y’ gotta be jokin’, that’ll take, like, er, like, er, forever…”

“Shouldn’t be a problem, suns shining and there’ll be loads of folks out there…”

Kevin bent down lower this time, almost hidden under the counter as he reached forward again,

“…and this is the set for you Trisha…”

“DUDE!!!!”

Clare stared wide-eyed at Trisha, hunching forward, shrugging her palms forward, looking to Trisha for some moral support,

The sound of giggling seemed to rise up through the thick wood of the counter, Kevin slowly stood back up, that beaming grin stretching from ear to ear,

“Gotcha!!!”

Trisha smiled, Clare looked confused for another second longer and then she too started to smile, then to laugh.

“Just half of the ones in this box.”

Clare reached over and opened the top of the box, it already looked depleted, and she smiled more broadly,

“Kevin… looks like y’ developin’ a softer side?”

“Right, the two of you sit down for a minute and get them split up, I’ll make two coffees to go.”

Clare picked the box up, turned to the nearest table and settled into a sofa,

“Thanks Kevin, that’s much appreciated.”,

Then Trisha turned as well and selected the sofa opposite Clare.

Outside, Dorothy had found a bench just beyond the churchyard; she could see the end of the alley, but not down to the door of the club. It would do but she wasn’t comfortable; it seemed strangely cold here and a little darker than it should be. She shrugged to herself and turned up the collar of her coat.

Ira turned the page of the newspaper; he wondered which shop Dorothy was drifting through but somehow he couldn’t conjure such an image in his mind; there was just a feeling of something at odds with his world. He shook the paper, tried to shake the feeling...