Mistaken Identity (John Wick) *COMPLETED*

Chapter One

MIA

There was an upside to New York and a downside to New York. The upside was the number of people and the sheer volume of coffee they drank, but the downside of there being a lot of people drinking coffee was that there were a lot of coffee shops competing and pushing one another out of business. I only took this job part-time to help through college; it gave me some extra spending money and the cute couple who ran it treated me like a daughter. I continued to work here after graduation, helping to modernise and expand their menu and customer base, but sadly the couple died and left the shop to me. It was nice having a niche feel, but we barely got enough customers through the door each month to pay the rent and staff salaries. This resulted in me taking on a lot more responsibility to keep our numbers down, which was kind of stressful at times. It was tough competing with the flashy chain coffee shops.

Some customers ask why I don't just shut up shop or sell the place, move away from New York and start again. But I was born and raised here, about a mile up the road to be precise at one of the many grimy looking orphanages which littered the city. My parents died when I was four, and I vaguely remember the horrifying events that happened in front of me but had blocked them out according to doctors and shrinks. I stayed in the system; no one wants to adopt a 'damaged' kid. My orphanage was lovely, a warm and nurturing environment, so when I got the coffee shop, I wanted to give back so I donated a little money whenever I could. I just hoped the shop was able to stay open long enough for me to provide them with their next cheque.

'Mia, do you think I can get off early? I have a test tomorrow,' Rosie asks, leaning her back against the counter.

I finish cleaning the coffee machine before turning around to face one of my best employees. I'd hired Rosie her first week of college, and she was a hit with everyone, reminded me of me when I was fresh-faced and excited to take on the world.

'Sure, it's not like we have many customers,' I joke, motioning around the empty shop.

Rosie packs her laptop away, 'just you wait Mia, one day something or someone is going to walk through that door and change your life, and this places life.'

I can't help but snort at her optimism, 'nice Rosie, good luck with the test.'

We hug and pull away just as the bell above the door dings indicating a customer. Rosie slaps my chest, her mouth ajar, 'hello, tall, handsome and brooding.'

She got the basic description of the guy right. He was tall, and the dark slicked back hair and fitted suit worked in his favour, oh and his eyes held such intensity and mystery at the same time as they scanned the shop. I shake my head and push Rosie around the counter, 'remember you have a test to study for.'

She pouts, 'damn why couldn't I have kept my mouth shut?'

I laugh, and with one gentle shove towards the door, Rosie takes the hint and walks out but not before eyeing up the newcomer with lustful eyes. Rosie was beautiful, and she could get any guy she wanted. Why was I suddenly envious of her confidence? Oh, that's right, because no one could look at me without staring at the jagged scar on the side of my face.

I head back around the counter, trying to rack my memory to see if this guy rang any bells. We had our regulars, some hipsters and local high school and college students, but no one ever came in here screaming of money. This place wasn't in the nicest of neighbourhoods; maybe he'd strayed too far from the path and needed directions.

He approaches the counter walking with intent, and I throw the cloth I'd been using earlier to clean over my shoulder and plaster on a welcoming smile, 'good day sir, what can I get for you today?'

His eyes dart over the menu before he locks eyes with me, which takes me by surprise. Never once did his eyes wander to the scar which went straight down my right cheek and curved into my throat. I was kind of impressed and flattered at the same time. 'I'll have a medium black coffee please Mia.'

I put the price into the cash register, 'can I interest you in any cakes or pastries? Made from scratch and all taste delicious if I'm allowed to be bias.'

A ghost of a smile graces his lips as he looks over the selection, 'I'll take a blueberry muffin. It better be as good as you're making it out to be Mia.'

I scoff, 'they will have you coming back for more. That will be five dollars in total.'

He hands me a ten, and I give him the change, and he reaches over and puts it straight in the tip jar which customers barely put money in, 'I'll be the judge of your baking skills Mia, and call me John. Sir sounds too formal.'

I nod, 'okay, John, I'll bring it over to you if you want to take a seat.'

He moves away from the counter to find a seat, and picks one of the window seats overlooking the street, except he chooses the chair which was directly facing me, which made me blush slightly.

I make his order and carry it on a tray over to him, noticing that he'd taken out a black notebook and was jotting something down when I approached. His eyes were focused outside as he tapped a pen on an empty page. It wasn't my place to be nosey; maybe he was a writer or just getting some work notes written up.

'Here you go, John, one black coffee and a muffin. You chose one of my favourite tables.'

He looks up as I bend down to put the order on the table, 'how so?'

I point outside, 'I love to people watch because everyone has a story to tell you know. Makes some of the slower days more interesting.'

He nods, 'my line of work requires a lot of observation.'

I wasn't about to ask him what his job was, because it wasn't my place, but now I was even more curious. Maybe he was a private investigator or worked for the Police. As I said, everyone has a story to tell, even if I have to make up a few details until I learn the truth.

'Well enjoy your coffee and muffin, if you need anything else I'll be behind the counter.'

Balancing the tray on my hip, I turn and walk away from the table, knowing full well that his eyes were following me. Maybe Rosie was right about something or someone walking through the door and changing my life.