(Story set in the Burnt Toast and Coffee Café universe. Check it out. Also, English isn't my native language, so forgive me for any mistake and please tell me if there's something that makes no sense in what I've written.)
I discovered that place some time ago, by chance. It was the morning after a successful op; I may be a fixer, I still go on ops from time to time. Nothing beats that adrenaline rush as you sneak into forbidden places, uncover some treasure, and get into a fight with the poor sods guarding said treasures.
So, I drove past this place on my way home and decided to check it out. I was also hungry, but kibbles wasn’t really appealing to me. The op had brought me enough to get some real food, but the market wasn’t open this early and, frankly, I was tired and in need of something to fill my stomach right away.
There is something to be said about the smell of fresh coffee, especially when it is brewed by someone who knows what they’re doing. It hit my nostrils right as I opened the door, and I knew at that moment that checking this place out was probably the best decision of the night.
I glanced around then made my way to the counter, water dripping off of me and creating small puddles as I walked.
“Sorry for that,” I said to Amy as I grabbed a handful of napkins to try and dry my fur a bit. “It’s raining something fierce outside,” I added.
Amy shrugged with the air of someone who’s been here long enough to have seen much and not be bothered by a bit of water on the floor. She didn’t seem fazed by my appearance, contrary to some of the early patrons who looked at me with a mix of astonishment and worry. I’m used to it by now, comes with the look, especially since most of my peers tend to go on more active lifestyles than that of a fixer.
I realize that I haven’t introduced myself : Bargain, fixer extraordinaire and also what is known as an Exotic. Check Biotechnica’s brochure if you want the whole PR spiel, but to make it short, I turned myself into a tiger. A walking, talking, bipedal tiger with quite a bit of chrome hidden under the fur. The official name is BigKatt, but I heard chooms call me a weretiger. I like that.
Anyway, the café. The name is misleading : the toasts are not burnt and the coffee is one of the best you’ll get this side of the hot zone. And the owner, Amy, she knows what you need. Almost like she’s prescient or something. Reminded me of myself when I’m doing business.
I was looking at the menu when she placed that big steaming cup of coffee in front of me. I looked up at her, surprised, but she just nodded with the kind of confidence born from experience.
“Try it,” she told me. “On the house if you don’t like it,” she added, almost as an afterthought, with the tone that said that it wouldn’t happen, that I would like it.
She was right.
That cup of coffee she handed me was liquid gold. The aroma was something I hadn’t tasted since before I changed, a lifetime ago. I enjoyed that first sip, savored it like a man getting his first drop of water after days in the desert.
The growl coming out of my stomach told everyone close enough of my hunger. Amy smiled.
“What’ll you have ?” she asked me.
“Whatever the special is today,” I replied.
“Toast and noodles coming right up,” she announced before her eyes looked me up and down. “Gonna make it a double,” she said, making me chuckle. I was very hungry indeed.
It felt like time stilled while I ate. It was still early, only a handful of patrons chatting in hushed tones, the rain drowning the sounds and lights of the city outside and Amy cleaning, making more coffee and making sure she had toasts and noodle to spare. The whole café was like an island of peace, a little bubble of calm in a city that thrived on adrenaline.
I left a big tip when came time to pay; quality coffee and food like that deserves it. And, well, I made it big that night, thus I could be generous.
The coffee helped me stay awake until home, ain’t easy driving a motorbike under heavy rain. The food helped me sleep well. It was a short night, that’s business for ya, but a good one.
I get back there whenever I need some good coffee and some calm. I’m not a local, but it’s worth the trip. And my bike’s got some augments for speed, cutting down on travel time.
I made one rule though : no business there. That place is the special spot, for good coffee and to forget about the hustle and bustle of life. Plenty of places for doing business throughout the city, so that one stays clear. My personal eye in the storm, to rest and relax.
Everybody got to have one such place. I found mine.