When We Met at Marco's

Chapter 3: Ella

Sunday,
November 3rd,
2019

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I instantly perk up and shoot up on the stool, out of my slouched position. I peer over at the customer standing in front of the counter. I could only make out that it's a he, however, he is quite blurred as I forgot to put my contacts in and I left my glasses on my kitchen worktop.

I watch them head off to supposedly table 14. I slip out of the stool slowly and make my way closer to where they are. Luckily, table 14 is in good view from the counter, just behind it. I innocently grab the damp cloth from the side and clean the pipes on the coffee machine, pretending I was actually doing a job when I was in fact, eavesdropping.

One section of my brain listens intently to their conversation as the other puzzles itself over how I didn't notice the empty table.

I could've sworn Miss Mullins said there were no empty tables.

My ears prick as I listen to their conversation.

"Thank you so much for allowing us to come here on such short notice when you're full to the brim," the guy chuckles.

Us? Who's us? The guy and his imaginary friend?

"Oh no worries, just, don't really mention the reservation as we don't normally do that," Miss Mullins semi-whispers.

Reservation? We never allow reservations.

"So, what can I get you?" Miss Mullins announces, whipping out her notebook to take the order.

"I think I'll wait until my friend arrives if that's ok," he replies.

So that's what he means by 'us'.

"Course, just let me know whenever you're ready."

"Thanks a lot," he smiles and Miss Mullins walks away.

During the conversation, I had abandoned my 'cleaning' to lean my elbows upon the worktop in order to understand their conversation in finer detail.

I'm too busy focusing on the cogs overworking in my head and a different question every second as I stare into space to realise that Miss Mullins has returned.

"I always knew you liked the older ones," she whispers in my left ear.

She makes me jump and startle back to reality as she smugly crosses her arms. "Fuck off," I joke and give her a slight push as she grins at her own comment. We both get along well I presume as we're similar characters.

"Anyway, what is his deal?" I ask, heading back to my latte and note taking.

"See, you are interested in him," she giggles, cheekily earning a slight kick on the bum from me as she bends down to take a bag of coffee beans to reload the machine.

"But genuinely though," I urge, curious at this point.

"I'm not telling you anything," she says, placing the heavy sack down on the counter with a thud.

"Please!" I whine.

"No! It's not my fault that you're a people watcher. You're the curious one, you find it out for yourself."

She got that bit right. I think that's what motivated me to want to work in a café. I am a people watcher. I love trying to understand everyone's business. Most just say it's me being nosy but I just reply simply with the fact that it's curiosity. I love to learn each new customer and piece together their stories - from the past, present and the future. It's fun to observe their traits & personality and their appearance. I could spend hours just watching people on their rollercoasters in life with an inquisitive mindset.

"Fine, I'll figure it out myself," I reply stubbornly as I walk towards the back of the counter to get a closer view of the suspicious customer.

"You normally do," Miss Mullins murmurs under her breath.

I turn around like a shot to give her a glare and she just puts her hands up in defence like always when she knows she's lost the battle.

I look towards table 14 to see a man - about 30 - pushing some thin glasses upwards which are perched on his nose. He had a thin layer of facial hair and appeared an average height, quite skinny, dressed in a washed grey t - shirt, black jeans and a navy zip up. I dared't look to his feet to look at his shoes as some may get the wrong idea.

I watch as he flexes his hand downwards to his bag and pulls out a silver MacBook. He places it on the table and opens it up.

So far, he seems like a normal genuine customer. A lot of our customers - especially regulars - come in to work.

"Figured him out yet?" Miss Mullins asks, sipping at an earl grey tea she prepared for herself as she was the next to go on a break.

"Nope, not much to go on to be honest," I respond, eyes still glued to notice any little hint or clue.

She raises her eyebrows as she takes a small sip of her tea and then sets it down on the back of the counter, near where I lean.

"Probably just a businessman," I assume but still ponder on other possibilities.

"So, why did you give him the priority of a reservation? What's so special about him?" I question, standing up to fold my arms and wait for answers from Miss Mullins.

"Maybe it has something to do with him," Miss Mullins replies, nodding her head towards the door.

I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and look to where she was gazing, just as the bell over the door chimes.