Sons Of Libertea

Chapter One: That Would Be Nice

"Hey, Burr! Aaron Burr!"

Alex skidded to a halt and immediately doubled over, hands on his knees, air coming out of his lungs in heaving breaths. He really needed to utilize the on-campus gym, or at least start jogging. Oh, who was he kidding. He wasn't going to start jogging.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, shit, uh..." Alex stood up, realized he had said that last bit about jogging out loud, and gave the object of his pursuit his best winning grin. "Aaron Burr, sir, my name is Alexander Hamilt--"

"Okay, I'm just going to stop you right there." Burr held out both of his hands in a whoa gesture. "Don't call me sir. I'm not your dad. And why the hell are you chasing me around campus?"

"I heard you've been interning at Edwards and Greene for over a year now, which is really impressive for someone your age, well, I'm an undergrad, and I actually just applied to Hale, Henry, and Howe's firm and got turned down because of my age, so, I guess I was just wondering how you got hired so early? I've been looking into every possible way and I applied as early as I possibly could, so how'd you do it?"

"Edwards. My mother. She put it in her will before she and my father died."

"Your mom was an Edwards? Oh, shit!" Alex ran both hands through his dark hair. Well, there went his brilliant follow-in-Burr's-footsteps idea. Family connections were something that he didn't have. "Well, I'm sorry about your parents. I'm an orphan, too, you know, was shipped up here from the West Indies, to, I don't know, make something of myself? Anyway, I--"

"Alexander," Burr cut in, "ah, Hamilton? Can I buy you a drink?"

Alex stopped in his tracks, hiking his backpack up over his shoulders. "That would be nice."

"There's a place not too far from here, if you're free now."

Alex nodded, following Burr down the street, and then narrowed his eyes at him. "It is like nine in the morning, Aaron, I mean, I'm all for day-drinking, but don't you think--"

"It's a coffee shop, Alexander, good God. Talk less."

"What?"

"Smile more." Burr held open the door to a nondescript, red-brick building, the bell on the doorknob jangling. Alex caught a glimpse of the wooden sign hanging outside, swinging in the breeze. A stylized American flag, weather-worn and with only thirteen stars in the shape of a circle.

Burr's coffee shop was called The Sons Of Libertea. It was written across the flag in black 18th century script. Alex felt a grin start to creep across his face.

"Aaron, this is adorable--"

And that's when a hefty handful of coffee beans sprayed the wall behind Alex, a few pelting him right in the forehead. Burr sputtered. He must have caught a few in his mouth.

"Burr, you cheap fuck, I thought I told you to never come back here again!"

Another voice came from the back, light and accented. "Language, petite chienne, language!"

"But you--"

"I said it in French, John, no one cares if I swear in French."

"Okay, fine." the coffee bean slinger, presumably named John, let out a longsuffering sigh. "Burr, toi bon marche putain--"

Alex cackled. He couldn't help himself. Burr shot him a scalding over-the-shoulder glare, and the gutter mouthed French speaker leaned over the counter into Alex's line of vision.

"My God, does Burr have a friend?"

Alex's first impression of John French-mouth What's-His-Name was that he had no idea there were that many freckles in the entire universe. They scattered over the bridge of his nose, over his cheeks, down his neck, and they were even all over the part of his left arm that Alex could see slung over the bar.