“You’re leaving me.” His disembodied voice held no hint of surprise.
“Yes. No. Sort of, but not really.”
“Glad that’s sorted.”
His sarcastic remark had me grinning. “You’re opening a new café up north and I’d like to be considered for the manager.” Where did that come from? It had crossed my mind, sure. I was planning on quitting, except in my heart, that wasn’t what I truly wanted. No going back now.
Abrar furrowed his brow and sat back in the chair. “Look, no one expects you in the office just yet. Go on vacation, explore the world, and when you’re ready, the job will still be here.”
His kindness almost had me reconsider. He was a father figure, and I hated disappointing him. But I had to put my happiness and well-being before anything else. “It’s weird how a few seconds can make you reevaluate what you want out of life.”
“Getting mixed up with criminals through no fault of your own is far from the norm. You have every right to want to take things slow.”
“That’s where you’re right. But not just for now. Forever. I appreciate the opportunities you’ve given me. But in my heart, corporate life isn’t for me. Meeting customers, joking with the staff, and getting my hands dirty in the kitchen is where I’m happiest.”
“And I’m guessing not wearing a suit and tie is a plus.”
I nodded, and we both laughed.
“Stan, you have an amazing career ahead of you, I can see you becoming regional manager in a few years. Is this really what you want or is it fear talking? You’ve been through so much.”
“It took me a long time to work out the answer to that question. A month ago, I would have said I was scared, but being in the café is what I love. And I’m good at it.”
“That's true. You were the best.” Abrar sighed. “So your decision is courageous not fearful.”
I’d never thought of it like that. Yeah, this was a brave decision. I wasn’t running away from anything, but moving toward my future. “I think so.”
He glanced at a floaty toy bobbing up and down on the pool’s surface. “Fine. The job’s yours.”
“As the café manager? Really? Just like that?”
“One of the advantages of being the boss. I can make snap decisions.”
“Thank you.” I jumped up and hugged him.
“When can you start?”
I chuckled. This man had worked so hard to build up his empire, and even though he’d cut back on his hours and worked from home a lot more due to health issues, he was still able to juggle all his responsibilities.
“A week from now? I have to pack up my apartment, and I’ve spoken to the landlord about breaking the lease.”
Abrar shook his head. “Let me deal with that. I’ll make sure your landlord returns your deposit.”
No matter what, he always looked after me, and my eyes swam with tears. “Thank you. And I’m sorry if…”
“Hey, no regrets.” He smirked, “I’ll still be your boss…”
“But we won’t see one another often.” And that was the worst part about my moving away.
“Video calls. Every week. Okay?”
“Sure.”
He stood up. “Guess what I have in the kitchen.”
I knew that look. It was his coffee face, and he wasn’t talking about any old beans. It was a surprise. “A new blend?”
“Maybe.” His eyes lit up as he threw his napkin on the table. “Want to try?”
“Absolutely. It’ll be like old times.” It’d be the perfect way to say goodbye.
Two
Chet
“I want to do something different.” Which was exactly what I said every time Glenn and I had this conversation. I got it. I did. As my producer, he wanted the best television out of each trip. And I did too—at least at the beginning. Now? Now I wanted more.
When I was first signed on with Eats Network, I had been given a six-episode deal. Prove myself during those six episodes or move along. Those episodes were all about making good television, but things had morphed since then. I wasn’t looking for new viewers. Shit, I had plenty of those. I was looking to strengthen our connection. They trusted me to find them great food across the country when they tuned in to Coffee, Cafés, and Corner Stores. They weren’t looking for a gimmick.
Glenn loved gimmicks.
“Different is a ratings gamble,” he reminded me for the four thousandth time since we began working together. “If we are going to do different, it needs to be the kind of different that can sell.” In other words, more of the same or something so over the top it was bullshit.
“And you have an idea?” I wasn’t in the mood for this shit. I had yet to have a decent cup of coffee and my patience was wearing thin. So thin.
“What if we do a country tour? You know, follow Route 66 and film along the way.” He’d had worse ideas. But given the timing, it wasn’t going to work and he and I both knew it. He had something else up his sleeve.
“We have two episodes left to book for this season. Two. Route 66 is an entire season or more worth of episodes.” I looked at the crap that came out of the vending machine and just shook my head. How coffee vending machines were still a thing was beyond me.
“That’s why I was thinking maybe we could pitch a sum—”
“No.”
“You didn’t even hear what I had to say.” He started to tap on his tablet. “I ran some—”
“No. Closed. We have two more episodes for this year and then I am done for a bit. We can revisit the Route 66 option later.”
“I ran numbers.” He tried to show me a spreadsheet. Damn, he loved those stupid things. I did not. They were math, and math and I had parted ways a long time ago. And besides, this show wasn’t about math. It was about bringing people behind the scenes of places they would love to visit but were too far away, or in some cases creating a destination during their travels. I often got emails from people telling me about how they planned their travel itinerary to include places I visited. That meant so much more to me than anything on a spreadsheet.
I brought my cup up to my lips and couldn’t do it. The aroma was just an artificial clusterfuck. “We should find the best coffee for our last episode.”
I’d only been half kidding, but once the words left my mouth, I was all in. We hadn’t had as many coffee episodes this season and people always loved them, especially if the place had something quirky about it or had been used by someone famous to write their books or spur their genius idea.
“Fine.” He started to tap away at his screen again, this time on Google and not his stupid spreadsheets which I was sure he had been creating to show me how brilliant his idea was. He so very much underestimated how little I was going to care.
I took out my phone and did my own search, not wanting to have things limited by his filtering. He had a habit of overlooking hidden gems, and at first I thought it was intentional, but over the years working with him, I began to realize he just worked with blinders on, and the best way to combat that always meant I had to do the research too. Not that I minded.