Saving Cinderella

Chapter Five

As they left the pet shop, Taylor gave Keaton the once, twice, three times over; both super unnecessary and super uncomfortable. He tried to focus on Sophie and the way she looked in her jeans but Taylor’s eyes were like laser beams of inquisition and accusation and it was hard to escape from their glaring line of sight.

“Is your sister always like that?”  

Sophie, who’d been kicking the pavement with the stub of her shoe stopped long enough to look up, shielding herself from the sun that reflected off of her eyes, which he could now see were clear and matched the sky. “Is she like what?”

“Like she tries too hard to get attention?”

Sophie shrugged. “I don’t think she really has to try.”

“No?”

“No, I mean she is such a diva, it’s unbelievable. All she has to do is bat her eyelashes and she gets what she wants. It works on everyone.”

“I disagree,” he said. “Eyelashes by themselves don’t affect me but a beautiful girl with a beautiful mind, that’s a different story.”

“Taylor is a beautiful girl,” she said, “but I think saying that she has a beautiful mind would be a stretch. If you could combine us, we’d be perfect. My mind, her looks, we’d be unstoppable.”

Keaton shook his head. “Your looks, eyelashes included, and your mind.”

Without a word, Sophie gave a half smile and returned her gaze to the ground as they walked.

They rounded the corner to his favorite coffee shop. It was the second floor of a beach house style building. The location, the building itself, even the name was unassuming. Sophie froze and her brows furrowed as she analyzed the sign.  “Has Bean?”

Keaton made his stride wide enough to clear two of the stairs at once, turning to face her. “Yeah,” he said. “This place has a great story.  The owner is a guy named Landon Walters. Guy is a beast, all tattooed and pierced with the worst haircut I’ve seen in my entire life and zero fashion sense. But what he lacks in appearance, he makes up for with humor. I asked him once why he named his café Has Bean and he pulls out this scrapbook from underneath the counter. The thing is filled to the brim with ripped passport pages, concert pictures and ticket stubs from a world tour with his band, Atari Blue.”

“I think I’ve heard of them,” Sophie said. “A long time ago.”

“They were obscenely famous for five Hollywood minutes. A one hit wonder of the 80’s. Landon told me that the short stint of the good life left him with awesome memories and enough cash to open a coffee shop, which he’d always planned on doing. He called it his ‘has-been’ cash and the rest is history.”

Sophie gave an impressed nod. “Has Bean. That’s clever.”  

He swung the door open, showcasing the café in all its glory. He loved this place because it bled character and cried nostalgia.  Vinyl records, guitars and limited edition memorabilia covered the walls.  There were retro lounge couches flanked by stacks of old issues of Rolling Stone magazine. As if the atmosphere wasn’t enough, Landon could easily orchestrate a soundtrack for life. The music that played softly through the speakers took everything a step further from traditional coffee house indie into flat out musical genius that a only a select few people, Keaton included, would truly appreciate. As they entered the shop, he knew he’d gauged this girl right.  

Her eyes were the size of baseballs. “Oh my gosh. This place is amazing.”  

“Yeah,” he agreed. “When I was younger, I used to sneak out to this place. On Friday nights sometimes they have live poetry or acoustic music gigs. I always thought I’d play here one day but never got around to it before everything changed.”