The Unborn

Chater 24

Mike stepped through the doors of Café Cino and into a bustling hive of activity. Waitresses were running from one side of the room to the other carrying orders and the air was alive with the humming of dozens of conversations. Sounds of a radio station were echoing softly from six or so, small speakers, which were mounted sporadically on the walls of the café. Mike wondered why they even bothered having the sound system in place; it didn’t appear that anyone was even listening to it above the droning of their own voices.

Cino’s light mocha coloured walls always amused Mike, to him it felt like the owners were trying to give the patrons the perception that they were inside one giant muggacino. The large white tables and sofa chairs only added to the inner coffee experience by looking like over-grown marshmallows. It was a novel idea, though not quite to Mike’s taste. He walked deeper into the café and scanned the tables for Paula. All he could see were yuppies, uni students and bookworms, sitting at their regular tables with textbooks and loose papers spread out in front of them. Most looked to be deep in thought or in the throws of an assignment, the rest were on mobile phones, sipping their latte’s.

“Bloody Yuppie-Ville,” Mike scoffed to himself before taking a seat on a comfy marsh-mallow at the main servery counter.

A petite waitress approached Mike and took out her order book. “Can I get you any-thing, Sir?” Her slow drawl annoyed Mike, almost as much as the surroundings.

“Where’s, Joany?” He spat at her.

“It’s her day off today,” the waitress droned back at him.

“Damn it!” he scanned the chalkboard menu above her for a few minutes and then said, “I’ll have bacon and eggs with a round of toast and a white, unsweetened coffee.”

The waitress rolled her eyes at him, shifted her weight from one foot to the other and said, “Latte, cappuccino, long, short, decaffeinated, strong, weak, in a cup, mug or a glass?” She grinned at him.

His expression blank, Mike leaned in closer to the young woman and replied, “I just want a normal bloody coffee in a normal bloody mug with no sugar and lotsa milk! Is that so hard?” He rubbed his hands over his face and then added. “I want bacon that comes from a pig and eggs that come from a hen…”

“Sure. You want wholegrain, multigrain, brown or white toast?” Her grin was now broadening to a full-blown smile.

Mike knew she was toying with him now and he was amused that she was able to give as good as she got.

“I just want toast… You figure it out!”

The waitress smirked cheekily at him and slid an order number across the counter to him. “You gonna eat right here or you want a table?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Mike answered, grabbing the number from her. “So I’ll be moving to a table very soon.”

“No problem, I’ll bring it over when it’s done.” She began to walk away and then turned back to him. “Any sauce?”

Mike threw his hands into the air in defeat and just shook his head. No wonder he never comes here much any more. With the table number in his hand he stood up and walked around the corner of the counter. His eyes spotted Paula sitting at a large corner booth towards the back of the café, he walked over and slid into the chair opposite her.

“Next time ya wanna meet somewhere, Paula, make it somewhere that normal people inhabit!” He looked around and eyed his surroundings some more. “These people belong on Pluto or something.”

Paula laughed and patted Mike on the hand. “Nice to see you too Mikey.” She pulled her hand back and rested it on top of the file in front of her. It was roughly half an inch thick and a few pieces of paper were poking out the side of the cardboard jacket they were tucked inside of.