by Matt Whyman
The only thing on Joaquín’s mind at that moment was the thought of offering a full confession for stupidly hitting on the man’s wife, followed by a profound apology. Sensibly, he opted to keep both of these back and began nodding instead.
‘I’ll be there,’ he said, as if under duress, and was left to stare at the business card that then fell upon the table. With his vision swimming, he barely breathed as Titus clapped him on the shoulder before leaving him alone with his appetite squashed. Only when the pickup gunned into life did Joaquín look up and curse out loud for not skipping lunch altogether and going into hiding instead.
Ivan had no intention of killing Bryce, Chad and Ryan. Not straight away, at least, and only then if he struck lucky with the bait he planned to feed them. Having observed them for some time now, the boy decided that they were at their most ravenous following a football match. The team were locked into an inter-school league title fight, and every player worked up a good appetite on the pitch. Afterwards, there was always a scrum for the snacks laid out in the locker room. If Ivan’s targets tucked into the after-match snacks he had planned for them, and the trio dropped down dead, everyone would just blame him and forget all about the torment that had provoked him into taking action. No, there needed to be a window of opportunity for the boy to clear away the plates and remove all trace of the lethal payload that would be slowly multiplying in their guts.
With this in mind, Ivan had chosen the Trichinella spiralis worm as his foodborne weapon of choice. Once ingested – in the form of larva cysts in contaminated meat – this microscopic parasite slowly but surely gave rise to a devastating disease that could’ve been tailor-made to meet the boy’s needs. Known as trichinosis, the worm’s early incubation symptoms often went unnoticed. It would take up to eight weeks before the victim began to suffer, which made it notoriously difficult to pinpoint the source. Keen to cover his tracks, this appealed greatly to Ivan. When he learned how these pathogenic assassins burrowed out of the intestines and into the circulatory system, ending up lodged in the muscle tissue, the central nervous system and even the brain of their unsuspecting host, he was sold. In good time, when Bryce, Ryan and Chad complained to the coach of joint pains, Ivan could be assured that they would struggle to remain effective team players. When the tremors set in, the boy figured they would have to take his place on the bench. Finally, when the trio experienced the kind of seizures that triggered cardiac arrest and death, he could at least tell himself that he had levelled the playing field.
Naturally, Ivan had to consider safety issues when preparing his food poison. This wasn’t something he could just cook up in the kitchen without risk of harm to little Katya and the rest of his family. He needed space, which is why he’d been so keen to contribute some time at the café.
‘I’ll wash up,’ he had volunteered, which was a first. ‘That can be my job once we’re closed at the end of the day.’
Angelica and Amanda had figured out that between them they could manage the catering and serve customers. Both women were accomplished cooks, and while Angelica had been known to create discomfort with her manner, she could also switch on the charm when it mattered. What’s more, should things get busy, Amanda knew that she could call upon a small pool of former lap dancers to work as casual staff. It meant that when Ivan offered his services, Angelica felt they had things covered.
‘You’re a good boy,’ she said, ruffling his hair, ‘but the dishwasher can do all the dirty work. Besides, you have school.’
‘Then let me clean the equipment at weekends,’ he insisted. ‘This is a family business. I want to play a role.’ Ivan had offered his services on the eve of the grand opening. Titus had been charged with collecting a bulk order of elderflower juice and Amanda was chalking up the specials on the blackboard above the bar. Meanwhile, little Katya had been tasked with laying out natural-fibre napkins, along with the knives and forks, which she undertook while singing happily to herself. A late sun streamed through the windows, which transformed the interior from its earlier shuttered and shadowy incarnation. Standing before his mother, with his school bag at his feet, Ivan lobbied for the job one more time. ‘I won’t let you down,’ he promised, and hesitated for a second before adding, ‘not this time.’
Angelica folded her arms.
‘Promise me you’re not planning any pranks.’
Ivan knew that she was mindful of those moments in his past when a bid to amuse had ended in bloodshed, but he was fifteen years old now. His sense of humour had matured to the point where it didn’t end in injury or the occasional death demanding a cover-up from his father.
Besides, what Ivan had planned here wasn’t a prank. It was payback, pure and simple. Not that he told his mother that just then.
‘There won’t be a single germ on the surfaces by the time I’ve finished,’ he assured her, and meant every word. For the nasty stuff would be sealed away inside a container, once he’d finished preparing his creation, and then carefully stashed until the time was right to strike. Totally unaware of his true intention, however, Angelica beamed at her son and told him where to find the cleaning equipment.
‘Look at us,’ she said admiringly, as he headed for the kitchen. ‘We Savages know how to get things done properly.’
23
The next day at noon, Titus Savage drew back the bolt from inside The Lentil Rebel and opened the door. With some reverence, he stepped out onto the porch, looked one way and then the other, and then let his shoulders sag.
‘They’ll come,’ said Amanda, who was standing anxiously behind him. She glanced at the rest of her adoptive family. ‘My people won’t let us down.’
‘Your people,’ muttered Titus, with his back still turned. ‘I feel like we’re catering for the weak and feeble.’
As a man who had reinvented himself on several occasions in order to avoid the full force of the law, Titus Savage had come to accept his new role as the proprietor of a vegan café. It was a business venture, pure and simple. He didn’t need to share his customers’ values in order to cater for them. Hosting this opening day was hardly the fruit of a lifetime’s ambition, but he considered it a duty to his family. Nevertheless, the calm and quiet troubled him. According to Amanda, vegans were on the rise. As far as Titus was concerned, they were a dying breed, and only had themselves to blame if they became extinct.
‘All that leafleting for nothing,’ grumbled Ivan, who had taken Tinky Dinks on a tour of the neighbourhood mailboxes over previous evenings. Such was his trust in the gerbil that he had even walked with his bag unzipped. What’s more, the creature seemed to enjoy peeping out to feel the breeze on his whiskers. ‘Damn those sausage dodgers.’
‘Ivan!’ Angelica glared at her son. ‘Let’s not write off this business straight away.’
‘You should listen to your mother.’
The voice came from over by the counter, where two men dressed in tropical shirts sat on high stools. Nursing glasses of wheatgrass juice, both Lev and Kiril looked distinctly tense.
‘If the café flops,’ added Kiril, ‘we’ll all pay the price, and not just financially.’
‘He’ll find us,’ Lev went on. ‘Zolotov will hunt us down.’
‘Will you relax?’ Titus pinned the door open and strode between the tables towards the pair. ‘For one thing,’ he added, gesturing at Ivan and little Kat, ‘there are children present. Secondly, I won’t allow any harm to come to my family. If Zolotov has a problem with the way this business is run, the man can talk to me.’
‘Titus will take care of things,’ Angelica told them. ‘He’s never let us down yet.’
‘And here comes our first customer.’ It was Amanda who was first to spot a figure heading their way. She had remained by the door to scout the waterside road. Immediately, all eyes turned in that direction. Angelica was first to recognise the flame-haired girl as she crossed towards the steps.
‘That’s no customer,’ she said, sounding disappointed.
‘
Crystal,’ said Ivan under his breath, bristling at his mother’s tone.
Titus turned to his son with his expression brightening.
‘A girlfriend?’
Angelica shot her husband a look, as if to suggest that his optimism was misplaced.
‘She keeps wanting to spend time with me,’ said Ivan, whose pale face was beginning to flush.
‘Well, that’s a start.’ Titus beamed briefly, before concern came into his expression. ‘It also means you need to treat her with kindness, OK?’
‘But it doesn’t qualify her for freebies,’ Angelica warned, before summoning a smile as the girl stepped into the café.
Crystal was wearing an emerald-coloured summer dress that exposed her freckled shoulders and arms slick with sunscreen.
‘Hey there,’ she said hesitantly, looking around as everyone stared at her. ‘Am I early?’
In response, all eyes turned to the boy whose cheeks had now turned scarlet. With his head bowed, Ivan looked up at the girl who had come to offer her support.
‘Do you want a drink or something?’ he asked.
Titus switched his attention from his son to Crystal and back again.
‘Of course she’d like a drink!’ he declared, extending his hand to welcome her in.
‘I can pay,’ she said, much to the relief of the two men in floral shirts at the bar. ‘Actually, Ivan, I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me?’
By now, the boy appeared set to burst into flames of embarrassment. He stared at the school bag at his feet for a moment, looking as if he wished he could tuck himself away inside it, and then nodded solemnly. A young couple climbed the steps to the porch just then, though it was the baby strapped to the man’s chest that commanded everyone’s attention, given that it was facing outwards and crying lustily.
‘Someone’s hungry,’ observed Amanda, which came as no surprise to Titus if the poor kid was restricted to soya products.
‘Do you serve children?’ asked the man, sounding apologetic and harassed, just as another family squeezed in around him.
Titus considered the man’s request, his spirits lifting as the tables started to fill, and wished he could reply that sadly kids were off the menu. This was a meat-free establishment, after all.
‘Everyone is welcome,’ he told him instead, and realised that he meant it. Nothing compared to a feast, of course, but here was something that could bond his brood, even if the food they served only looked fit for squirrels. ‘Just be sure to spread the word,’ Titus said to finish, noting Ivan hurrying into the kitchen to deposit his school bag. Smiling for the customer still, he steered Angelica away before addressing her under his breath. ‘If Amanda is right about the broccoli-botherers around here,’ he said, and beamed at the next party to walk through the door, ‘The Lentil Rebel could soon be the café that everyone is talking about.’
Three hours later, Joaquín Mendez approached the café at a slow jog and then drew to a halt. The place was doing good business, he noted at a glance, with the sound of chatter and laughter matched by the clink of cutlery. It certainly looked welcoming, but that did nothing to take away from the fact that this was the last thing he wanted to do. It was all too much to bear, knowing that Angelica would be present, and yet the invitation from her husband had sounded non-negotiable.
‘You go in, say hi, you leave,’ he told himself, and then paused to catch his breath.
Joaquín had opted to run all the way from his apartment to burn off the adrenaline. All morning, as soon as he pictured himself faced with the woman who had asked him to step out of her life, the nape of his neck began to blister with sweat. It wasn’t just the force of his feelings for Angelica that quickened his pulse. The thought of facing Titus in her company was proving almost unbearable. Joaquín gathered the front of his vest and mopped his face with it, exposing a trim and contoured abdomen.
‘OK,’ he said, shaking his limbs down. ‘Let’s do this.’
Such was the extent of his nerves that Joaquín found himself challenged by an unusual lack of coordination as he made his way towards the porch. Having finally sorted it out, so his left arm didn’t swing forward with his left foot, followed by the same action on his right, he dropped his head and mounted the steps. Midway up, with a jackhammer for a heart, he spun around on the ball of one foot and walked back down again.
It was pure instinct that persuaded Joaquín to turn. Faced with fight or flight, he’d been struck in an instant by the sense that only bad things would befall him if he walked through the door. No way, he decided, was he going to face Angelica in the presence of her protector. It would be like entering a lion’s den, and just felt all wrong to the young man. The decision served to ease his heart rate as he strode away from the building, only for it to spike once more when a voice called out from behind him.
‘What’s the matter, my friend? You don’t need footwear to join us. No doubt the people here are used to that kind of thing.’
Slowly, Joaquín turned on his bare soles to find himself under a penetrating gaze. The man on the porch was smiling, but that did nothing to soften the intensity in his eyes.
‘Good to see you, Mr Savage,’ he said, before clearing the catch in his throat. ‘I thought you were closed.’
Puzzled, Titus glanced back at the café. With almost every table taken, this opening day appeared to have turned into quite a party. He faced Joaquín again and waved away his observation.
‘I hope you’re hungry,’ he said, beckoning to Joaquín. ‘Although between us, I doubt the food on offer meets the dietary needs of a man of your profession.’
‘Oh, there are many health benefits to be had from veganism,’ said Joaquín, who felt briefly relieved to be on a topic he knew something about. As a fitness trainer, many of his clients came to him with questions about their diet. ‘For one thing, it’s low in cholesterol and saturated fat.’
Having reached the top step, Joaquín found Titus with that bemused look on his face again. It was as if the answer he’d just provided did not compute with the man.
‘Well, let’s just say what we have to offer won’t spoil your supper,’ said Titus, placing a guiding hand between Joaquín’s shoulder blades. ‘I see you as a lean meat kind of guy.’
Struggling not to spin out completely, Joaquín nodded politely and succumbed to the slight pressure he felt from his host’s guiding hand. He didn’t register the chatter of the customers inside. Nor did he glance at the blackboard to pick something to eat. Instead, his eyes fell upon the figure behind the counter, who froze on seeing him.
‘Angelica!’ With Titus looming behind him, Joaquín adopted an expression much like a hostage being forced to face a camera. Angelica glanced at her husband, and then stepped out from the counter. ‘What a surprise to see you here.’
‘Mr Savage invited me,’ he told her, and cleared his throat in case his voice wavered again.
‘It didn’t seem right to let Joaquín go to waste.’ Titus clapped him on the back. ‘I’ve hired him to help me rediscover my form.’
If Angelica was shocked to hear that her husband had signed up with the young man she had recently cut from her life, the terrified fitness instructor failed to detect even a flicker in her composure. The way she stared at him just then, it was a surprise he hadn’t turned to stone.
‘If there’s one thing I’ll say about Joaquín,’ she remarked finally, ‘he doesn’t give up.’
‘Well, he’s got his work cut out with me.’ Titus chuckled and patted his belly. ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t live to regret it.’
24
Amanda had never been happier. If she couldn’t promote the virtues of a diet derived from human flesh, then a vegan café was the next best thing. Both forms of eating spared blameless animals, after all, and so she felt comfortable in each camp. With the backing of her adoptive family, who seemed increasingly at ease with setting aside their personal food preference during opening hours, this spirited young woman threw herse
lf into the role of running a meat-free establishment.
Within a week, Amanda could count on regular customers. Ten days after opening, she had got over the allergy that came from dealing with so many people whose clothing was covered in cat hair. A fortnight later, there were times when those who showed up without a booking had to wait for a table to become clear. By the end of the first month, The Lentil Rebel was running at full capacity.
‘Nikolai Zolotov sends his congratulations,’ Lev announced, on dropping in after the doors had closed one evening. ‘The café is turning over more money than the saloon bar, so you’re doing good here.’
As had become routine, Lev brought a bulging Manila envelope with him, which Kiril took to the till. Amanda noted how the man always counted up the takings from the day by mouthing the digits on each intake of breath. She figured it was a habit he had developed from years of laundering hot money.
‘Just don’t sit back on your laurels.’ Kiril swatted the till shut, having filled it with the next float of cash that needed cleaning. ‘An aggressive strategy is what you need.’
Amanda had been wiping down the counter when they showed up. It annoyed her to see Kiril reach for one of the remaining cookie-dough truffles, carefully made with gluten-free flour and xanthan gum, because inevitably it crumbled as he swept it to his mouth and he never used a plate.
‘We’re happy as we are,’ she told them, balling the cloth in her hands.
‘But you could be happier.’ Lev used a tone that sounded like a warning. ‘Think about it. Talk to Titus. Sound him out.’
‘He’ll be here soon to lock up,’ said Amanda. ‘Why not stick around and ask him yourself?’