Car engines rumbled outside as the sun blossomed from behind the clouds. Radio cassettes playing different songs, people yelling here and there, which entirely made it challenging for Trevor to concentrate.  

He frantically paced around his desk, in his brightly painted office. The cleanliness of his office was in stark contract to his desk. Papers and files were scattered around his crooning, open laptop. He stopped to read the news headline: “Three teenagers found dead on the great North Road.” Trevor fretted, reaching for the steaming cup of coffee next to the laptop.

He ceased trotting and scoffed.

“And they thought they could bring me down pathetic,” he whispered  

He sat down on an oversized, black leather chair.  

Trevor, the owner of a well-known cafe called “The Mood Lift café”, had a lanky frame, dark in complexion, washed-out blue eyes, and brunette frizzy hair. He had dressed in jeans, boots, a t-shirt that said, “Fairies are not real”, and a distressed leather jacket.

He had been building up his cafe for years. It was a labor of love that he prided himself in. Despite the cafe being old with antique furniture, its atmosphere comparable to the other café’s in the city. Some patrons had said it was even better.

Ten to fifteen minutes the doorbell rang, letting him know a customer had come in. He stood up, his eyes stopped flickering upon coming across an astonishing female figure.  

Though she was a little petite, her body was curvy and had lapis lazuli eyes with blonde curled hair. She was black in complexion with a narrow face as smooth as porcelain. None of the men in the café could pull their eyes from her petite dress that sat almost too far above her knees as she swayed her hips for them.  

While she was going towards his office, Trevor could see the desired intentions on his patrons’ faces through his office window.

He answered the door without procrastinating after she knocked.

“You can come in, please.”  

When she entered, he wore a grinning smile. Even someone who is miles away could see his teeth. The lady wondered why?

“Maybe it’s his way of making people feel comfortable around him,” she thought.

He looked at her beautiful mouth and high check bones.  

“You can take a seat.”

His deep baritone voice oozed, gesturing for her to sit down. His gentle manner seemed to have made her shoulders relax a bit since she was feeling down in the dumps with the thought of not getting whatever she wanted at the café.  

“Thank you, sir.”

No sooner had she sat down then he asked.

“What brings such a charming lady to my cafe?”  

He took a sip from the cup of coffee he was drinking.

“I came across an advertisement on the internet, stating that you are looking for a waitress,” She spoke trying to sound brave than she felt.  

While they exchanged glances, he noticed on her facial expression that she was looking melancholy that anyone would sympathize with her.  

“Have you worked anywhere as a waitress?” He asked, looking interested.

“Sure thing sir, I once worked at a restaurant,” the woman responded.

“Oh, hope you are not trying to be mendacious with me, are you?” He asked, grinning at her.

She smiled too, showing her dazzling white movie star teeth and becoming clear she got the humor.

“Hell no sir, I’m not a mendacious person. Here is a letter.” She handed Trevor the paper, “it is from my previous boss. I asked him to write it for me in case this happens. And he has included his numbers you can call him if you don’t believe me.”

He freed the letter and begun reading it after ten to fifteen minutes. He glanced up at the woman and said, “Alright, I will call them later.” His one hand caressing his beard, he stared up at the ceiling before he spoke again, “On second thought I will call them now.” There was a pause, then he yanked the phone out of his pocket, dialed the number on the paper and called.  

A guy answered and told him she had worked there as a waitress.  

After a couple of infinitesimals, he hung up the call and said to the woman, “looks like you were telling the truth,” he shot her an apologetic expression. “I will put you under surveillance for a week or two and see how you do. Some had come, but they did not impress me, thus I had to let them go. If you perform effectively, the job will be yours,” he added.

“Thank you, thank you so much, sir,” she replied, her smile stretched wider. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.” And her knotted ball of fear coiled like a spring.  

“I hope so, young lady, and what is your name?” He asked politely.

“My name is Emma Chanda.”

“Alright, Emma, your work starts today, there is a woman named Meaghan she will instruct you of what to do.” She nodded and stood up. “Tell her to come to my office first in the meantime, you can look around and familiarize yourself, it will just take a few minutes,”

“Alright, I will call her. Thank you once more, sir,” and she left, closing the door softly behind her. Things went well than she anticipated. It was not like looking in a crystal ball the events predicted the events taking place.


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