lucas's perspective
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january. of course i had to move up here in january. wasn't it supposed to be warm by the coasts?
i couldn't tell what was my breath and what was the smoke from my cigarette at this point.
all i know is that i had to find somewhere to make some money if i wanted to be warm tonight. it was hard to find a job, or more importantly a living space that wasn't the local whore hotel.
but whatever. i'll figure it out. i always had and always will.
my head was freezing against the windows of the local café i had found. it was really popular, so camping out here with my guitar always got me a few more nights at the hotel. and sometimes, the cute girls working there would give me the pastries that would have been thrown away.
but it wasn't always free food and sharing my music. there was one worker there, the owner's son according to the other workers, who seemed to have a vendetta against me. i've never actually seen him, i never bothered to look. but his voice? it had always been familiar to me, since the first time i heard.
maybe i was just used to getting told to scram because i was "loitering" or because my "cigarette smoke was bothering the customers" or "you're making the white suburban moms uncomfortable". i heard it a lot, and at this point i never listened. the guy never called the cops, which suit me just fine.
today must have been my lucky day though, since for the first time in a month i heard the bell of the door opening it wasn't some kid telling me to get off his lawn.
no, it was an old man. the owner, i could only assume. and he called out to me.
"kid. hey, kid! why don't you come inside?"
i must have looked absolutely shell-shocked the way he chuckled at me. he must've assumed it was the first time i was invited into an establishment.
indeed, it was the first time. and i'd take any chance to get out of this cold. so i tossed my cigarette and collected my guitar to head inside.
"how long have you been here? you visiting, living here? you staying nearby?"
the man had some kind of spanish? maybe italian accent, and asked a whole lot of questions.
"uh, yes sir i am stayin' nearby. i'm tryin' to find a job so i can get a place. right now i'm stayin' at the hotel a block or two down."
"down there? oh son, you could stay somewhere much nicer."
"it's all i can afford right now. i gotta find a better paying job than playing guitar on the streets."
"well maybe you've come to the right café."
alright, so this was an extortion. but who am i to refuse?
i responded with a simple eyebrow raise, waiting for him to continue.
"customers enjoy your music outside. we get a lot of requests to bring you in, but my son was being difficult about it. i finally convinced him so here you are now. i can offer you 10$ an hour, including any tips you get."
"seriously?!"
i just about jumped right out my seat. that was plenty to get the cheapest apartment i could around here and that's all i needed.
i didn't need to hear any more.
"you got a deal! mister, uh...?"
"romano. mister romano."
xavier's perspective
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"and that's break!" violet, one of my coworkers yelled out. she and the others took off their aprons whilst i stayed put at the counter. "xavier, you coming?" she asked, taking a few cannolis out from behind the glass for her own personal reasons. "nah, pops hired a guy so i gotta stay and show him around." i held up my head with my hands, waiting for my dad to get out of his office. "well alright, we'll be in the back if you need us." she switched the opened sign to closed and left.
we all take the same break since the shop barely gets customers. i wouldn't be surprised if we don't get anymore for the rest of the day. i stared out the windows of the cafe and noticed the snow slowly falling down. and to think, he would've been out there with nothing but a pack of marlboros. i knew there was gonna be turmoil between us but i knew what it was like to be homeless. if it wasn't for my dad finding me and helping me out of my slum, i don't think i would be alive. i had to help him the way my pops helped me, and now i wish there was a way i could repay him.
"xavier, come in my office for a second!" he opened the door and i followed him in. "am i in trouble?" i sat down next to the new guy and my dad started talking. "xav, this is lucas, lucas, this is my son, xavier." before either of us could say anything, my dad began again. "lucas, could you wait out for a sec'?" "yes, sir." lucas grabbed his guitar and left, sitting at one of the empty booths.
"close that door for me." he asked, the atmosphere suddenly turning serious. "i'm getting old, your mom is getting old. your familia cannot take care of this cafe any longer and you're the only one thats been here the longest out of all the workers. i think you know where this is goin', xavier." "you're shutting down the shop? after you hired the guy? that's stone cold pops." "no, stupido, i'm handing the shop over to you, la mia anima. i need to know that you can handle it, i'm putting all my trust into you." i looked down at my shoes and thought about it, but the answer was as clear as day. "of course, dad. this is my destiny, i can do it."
he smiled at my confidence and gave me one of those cheek kiss hug that italians do.
i don't know if i was lying or not, but whatever the case, i wanted to know he was proud of me. it's the only thing i ever want to hear from him. i needed the praise.
"and if you ever need me, badabing, i'll be here. just a call away." that was good to know since i knew nothing about owning a cafe.
eh, how hard would it be?
"lucas, get up, it's time to show you around!" he stood up slowly, adjusting his guitar case. "it seems like you guys are really like yellin' round here."
"yeah, we're italian." he followed me into the time stamp area and i showed him how to clock in and clock out, including the break and lunch areas. "i can't get my finger on it, but dawggonnit, you look so familiar." he suddenly spoke. i didn't know what to say so i just went along with it.
"guess i just have one of those faces." "guess so."
