Mismatched

1. Jake

As Jake Sinclair cut the ignition to his bike, he couldn't seem to unclench his jaw. It was a problem he always faced when parking in front of this particular shop, and the only remedy was to scan the shopping strip and the surrounding rainforest. Today, cars and buses were speeding up the mountain, and other than a few tourists the shops were mostly deserted. His jaw loosened, relieved to have arrived undetected once again.

Removing his helmet, he grabbed a bag and rushed inside the fortune teller's shop. A bell jingled above the door, and he found himself ducking under the chimes and gems that hung from the ceiling. Mrs Harrostone had no doubt made them all—the jewellery in the glass cabinets, too. Many times, he'd walked in to find the fortune teller sitting behind the counter, stringing beads together for a necklace or bracelet. He couldn't care less about the beads and chimes. He planned to have a quick reading, just enough to keep steering his restaurant Sinclair's in the right direction.

Fortunately, no one suspected that Jake had been coming for readings over the past two years, or that he had a regular appointment at five pm on the last Friday of every month. If his staff or his brother knew that he sought business advice from a fortune teller that swear jar in the kitchen would be filled to the brim. But he needed Mrs Harrostone. Her guidance had transformed a misguided cook into one of Outer Melbourne's top chefs. Customers booked months in advance just for a Sinclair's experience. And brides, they were ecstatic if they secured their wedding reception on a Sunday night. That was in the summertime. In Winter, like now, weekdays were slow, money was tight, and Jake's staff were getting restless. He prayed that the fortune teller could see a brighter future.

Jake placed the thermo-bag on the glass counter and dinged the bell. There was an archway leading into the waiting room to the right of the counter. Behind the counter was a corridor leading upstairs to Mrs Harrostone's living quarters, which was where Jake glanced now. Sure enough, the woman appeared from the dim corridor, blue eyes sparkling and her grey hair in a braid. Jake thought she resembled an autumn tree, her willowy limbs dressed in a pink silk top and pants in a bohemian print of golds, pinks, and browns.

"Is that coq au vin wafting through my shop?" she said, approaching the counter.

Smiling, Jake unzipped the bag. Mrs Harrostone took one glimpse inside and inhaled as if she'd just smelled heaven.

Jake donned a French accent, "On the menu tonight, an entrée of arancini balls with a wild mushroom salad. For the main.... Coq au vin." Mrs Harrostone laughed, and Jake continued, "And the lady's personal favourite, poached pear in white wine, with a hit of crème fraîche and crushed biscuit on the side."

"Oh, Jake. You spoil me."

"There's also a fudge brownie in there somewhere." He opened the bag wider, searching under the mountain of food. He gave up on the brownie and retrieved his wallet, knowing Mrs Harrostone preferred payment at the beginning. She'd once explained that customers had refused to pay if they were given negative news, so Jake always paid straight up. He was about to pull out a fifty when she held up her hand.

"Not today, Jake. This meal alone costs more than two readings. Consider the next one free, too."

"You're sure?" It didn't feel right. Sure, he'd gone to some effort to cook, but he had pinched half of it from the restaurant. Although, the cost was easily three readings, and ultimately he was pinching from himself.

"I'm positive." Mrs Harrostone smiled nervously. "Also, there might be a bit of a wait before we begin. I hope you don't mind?"

"Ah..." He didn't want to be rude, not after she'd given him so much. He also didn't want to upset her in case her mood affected his next reading. "I do have work in an hour."

"About that. You should probably phone ahead and tell them you've been delayed."

"Maybe I should come back later."

"No. You need to stay. This delay is for you."

Jake tried not to show his impatience. "Why exactly am I going to be delayed?"

"I believe we are expecting someone."

"Like a spirit?" He laughed. "You know I'm not a big believer in that sort of thing."

"And yet you come for my readings."

"True. But that doesn't seem as out there as dead people talking from the grave. No offence, but I'm still amazed that I come for the readings."

Mrs Harrostone shrugged lightly. "Then you'll be pleased to know that our visitor is definitely breathing, and she is only a few years younger than you, my dear."

"She?" Jake raised a brow. "Are you trying to set me up?"

"I'll say no more. You may choose to leave, or you may choose to wait. Either way, I'm not about to start your reading when I know I will be interrupted."

"I suppose I can wait a few minutes," he said, walking around the counter and into the next room.

Mrs Harrostone laughed from the front of the shop. "I suspect you'll be waiting longer than that."

"How long?" he called out.

"You'll see."

Jake grumbled as he passed a fish tank that took up most of the back wall. He relaxed back into one of the sofas and stared at the fish tank. It was as garish as always; mostly due to the artificial rainbow glowing through the tank and onto the walls. He pitied the poor fish swimming amongst the stone temples and reeds. They'd probably have heart failure if they saw real daylight or swam in one of the rivers nearby.

Jake rubbed his eyes, thinking he should walk out before the girl arrived, before it was too late to escape. Ordinarily, meeting new girls was fine, as long as it never amounted to anything serious. But the fortune teller had the uncanny ability to know a life-changing opportunity, and if she thought this girl was worth waiting for, Jake knew he was in trouble.

Ready to make a dash, he rose to his feet. The fortune teller had her dinner—she couldn't be too offended if he left without saying goodbye. A bell jingled at the front of the shop and he froze.

Someone had arrived. Her?

Mrs Harrostone was speaking, but he couldn't make out the words. A young lady spoke next. Her voice was sweet, polite, a little husky around the edges. It was a good sound on her.

Jake wanted to slap himself in the head. He hadn't even seen this girl and he was already intrigued.

No. She might have sounded gorgeous, but she was probably feral.

Jake looked at the exit with longing and satback down, crossing an ankle over his knee. He might as well relax while he was waiting. Escape was no longer an option.

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I hope you enjoyed Jake's first chapter!
Any comments & votes would be wonderful!

Keen to know who is responsible for Jake's delay . . . All will be revealed in Chapter 2!