The Sheikh And The Redhead

Coffee And Crap

Amber

Monday morning and here I sit at my usual table in my usual chair gracing Mollies Cafe, a quaint faux Victorian​ coffee shop just of the beaten track in the heart of New York.

Having tried all the main stream coffee places where you get your coffee thrust at you in a paper cup with a plastic top rammed on tight whereupon you struggle to take the damn thing off so you can put sugar in it, yes all you lot around me can stare, I take sugar in my coffee!

Then you have to try and get this to sweeten your drink by using a sliver of wood which requires you to sir at least six thousand times, whilst being buffeted by other patrons crowding round to grab napkins and sweetener of the table you are hogging.

Eventually you succeed in getting it to taste semi sweet, by adding more sugar than you need, then you try and get the top back on without spilling any, not an easy feat and by this time there isn't anywhere to stand let alone sit, so you have to exit the shop, whilst armed with coffee and stand on the sidewalk or even worse navigate the crowded streets trying desperately not to spill your drink on anyone.

No sir! that's not my idea of how a morning should start I can tell you, so when on a walkabout in my second week in New York I discovered Mollies and that's been my go to place every morning since.

However today is a special day, my step brother Joshua the oldest of the five step brothers I inherited when I moved in with his family and also my chief protector, has cajoled me into going for this interview, well threatened was more like it, for some company or other as a receptionist.

He has this grand idea that this job is right up my street, mainly because I will be fenced in by a high counter all the way around me and therefore separating me from the human race where I will be less tempted to cause them grevious bodily harm, (his words not mine) if they upset me.

I feel this is grossly unfair, just because in my last position, when the man I was serving decided to grope my ass, I decided to christen him with the hot cup of coffee I was carrying, in his lap and his full English on his head, needless to say I don't have that job anymore.

Anyway back to my current predicament, me! a receptionist, I think him living in New York for the past three years has adled his brain, I hate telephones at the best of times and my telephone manner stinks to say the least and sticking me in front of a computer, well you might as well put me on the bridge of the starship enterprise blindfolded,  clueless didn't even come close.

Computers and me have this unwritten rule we stay away from each other, due to the fact, they don't do what I want them to do and then they have a tendancy to attempt flight without wings, usually because I launch the blasted thing across the room, along with a few well chosen words.

Still deep in thought as to how I could even contemplate sitting there smiling at people and being pleasent, without losing the will to live, I mindlessly stirred my coffee, unfortunately my step brother god bless him, thought it was about time I got another job and started to pay my way again, rather than living off him, I must admit he did have a point.

"Well?" Came a deep baritone demanding voice.

I looked up from where I was concentrating on my early morning indulgence of Latte and blueberry muffin.

My eyes trailed up a sharp cut dark pinstriped business suit that clung to it's owner like a second skin up past a trim taut waist that expanded out to incorporate a minimum of a six pack, past a large muscular chest and arms, before coming across a square lined jaw and tanned face where a grim hard lined mouth and a pair of hooded ocean blue eyes stared down at me over a slightly hooked nose.

"Are you talking to me?" I growled, I hated having my peace and quiet disturbed especially when I'm eating.

The guy cast his eyes around the small cafe before returning his stare back to me.

"You're​ the only one at this table, so yes I'm talking to you" his voice still low and threatening.

Jerk!

"So what do you want" matching his tone.

"I require my own space, therefore I need my own table"

"Well you've out of luck buster, because there aren't any, as you can see" gesturing around the small compact cafe, where all the tables were occupied by two or more people enjoying an early morning break.

"Well then you will need to move and let me have this one" he continued

"Not a chance bud I was here first, so I suggest you look elsewhere" I returned my gaze to my unfinished muffin, but before I could lift it from my plate to my half open mouth that was descending rapidly down on it, like a bird of prey on an unsuspecting mouse.

A large masculine hand landed on top of my forearm arm and holding it hostage pinned to the grease stained table top.

I lifted my gaze back up to meet his serious face leering down at me, but before he could do or say anything, I lifted my free hand and grabbed the forefinger of his hand that held mine and bent it back, causing him to whince a bit in pain before relinquishing his hold on me.

I noticed​ two huge guys decked out in identical suits and sunglasses shift from each side of the door where they had been leaning and make a beeline towards my table.

Next thing I know Mr Personality waves a hand over his shoulder, returning the guys to their original positions. Then with a loud huff he drops into one of the empty chairs opposite me.

"There that wasn't so hard now was it" normally I won't indulge in conversation, just keep myself to myself and ignore all those around me, but this guy had seriously pee'd me off and I wanted to get one last dig in.

He leaned towards me his face neutral and rested his chin in his hands, before asking.

"Do you know who I am?"

To which I finished chewing and swallowing my last piece of muffin, pausing to dab the corners of my mouth with a napkin, then leaning forward copying his stance and staring him in the eyes.

"Nope, but do you know who I am?" I retorted.

"No, I haven't had the pleasure" his face now transformed into an arrogant smirk.

Standing and dropping my used napkin on my plate, I gathered my handbag and dropped two dollar bills on the table as a tip before giving him a smirk of my own.

"Good then let's keep it that way shall we"

I turned and headed to the exit, but decided after only taking a couple of steps to infuriate him a little more, I stopped and turning my head back to peer over my shoulder, where I found him staring at me.

"Oh, now you have you wish the tables all yours, bye" resuming my previous course, I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face as I reached for the door handle.

Dillon one of the waiters, who over my frequent visits had become some what of a friend, rested a hand on my arm just as I touched the door.

He leant forward and whispered in my ear.

"Amber you know who that is don't you?"

"Jerkzilla!" I whispered back.

"No it's only Sheik Kalib Amil Mohammed, look" waving today paper under my nose.

"And!" I asked, pushing it away as I was getting a little annoyed by now.

"He's like only one of the riches guys in the world"

"And!" I continued.

"And you totally layed into him"

"Look Dillon, I don't give a shit who or what he is, he is still a jerk and as for being a Sheik, there's only two shakes in my life, what I do when I'm cold and what I do with my drink, okay"

Dillon stared at me open mouthed and nodded.

"Good I'm glad we've cleared that up, see you tomorrow" and with that I pulled the door open and left.

"Amber has left the building" I muttered to myself, as I tried to figure out in which of the tall monstrosities my interview was going to be held.