A Witch's Guide to a Good Brew
Page 1
A Witch’s Guide to a Good Brew, Volume 1
By Jose Rodriguez-Copeland
Copyright © 2018 by Jose Rodriguez-Copeland
Cover art designed by BOMHAT.
For updates, feel free to visit http://www.joserc.com/
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Dedication
This book could not have been possible without the love and support of my friends and family.
To my parents, who supported my creativity ever since I was born and continue to this day.
To my girlfriend and beta-reader Katherine, who supports my wild writing ideas.
To my friends. I am a product of our interactions. The time we share feeds my creative drive.
And to you, readers. Sharing a story with you all is a dream come true.
Also by Jose Rodriguez-Copeland
Flame Over Empire Volume 1 (Out Now)
Flame Over Empire Volume 2 (Coming Soon)
“He had no greater joy than that, which was to sit some hours at the coffee-house, listening to the various conversations, analyzing different minds and characters.”
G. Gozzi, Memorie Intuiti, ca.1770.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Epilogue
Author Notes
Chapter 1
I held Mr. Johnson hostage with a cup of espresso. He stood across from me at the bar, his brawny fingers holding a cup far tinier than one he was used to. I poured him a single shot of espresso mixed with sugar.
“It doesn’t have any milk?” he said.
“No milk. Just sugar and the coffee.”
“Then what’s the foam on top?” he said, referring to the light brown scum on top of the darker espresso beneath it.
“That’s froth from the espresso,” I said.
Mr. Johnson drank one sip, then downed the rest. I waited for the middle-aged man to jump up from his stool. He would then call out to the Heavens for having made him wait so long to taste a cup as good as the one I made him.
He did no such thing. Instead, Mr. Johnson made a disgusted face and put the cup down on its saucer, a loud clank reverberating across the otherwise empty coffeehouse.
“Not for me,” he said. Mr. Johnson looked at his watch. “Gotta jet. Get me the usual?”
I took his balled-up bills and poured him filtered coffee in one of our custom cups.
“There’s a reason I come here instead of Starbucks,” he said.
“Is it the service?” I said.
“No. This coffee is effin’ amazing. What is it?”
“Oh, it’s really interesting, it’s—“
“Oops, gotta leave. Work, man,” he said.
“—Puerto Rican” I said.
The man answered his phone on the way out the door. The last thing to leave out the rectangular opening was the orange cup of coffee. Plastered in the middle of the orange recycled paper fiber cup was a black cauldron.
With that, I was alone in the café. Fine by me.
Nestled in a busy street right outside of Atlanta, the Twisted Cauldron was my true home. I had only been an employee for two years, but I lost track of the thousands of times I had scrubbed its eight mahogany tables and vacuumed between the booth cushions.
What we lacked in theatrics, we made up for with good-tasting coffee.
“Mornin’, Raul,” said Elise as she walked in. At twenty-one years old, Elise was three years my junior but no less capable. For all intents and purposes, she formed the other member of the ‘we’ I mentioned.
Elise put on her bright orange apron and went to work refilling baked items from out back. I washed the cup that hosted Mr. Johnson’s underappreciated espresso, wiping the ends until I could see my face glisten off it.
The bell behind the door clanged, followed by the entrance of an elderly couple. I put the rag away and went to face them.
“Good morning,” I said to Don and Julie Mortimer. “What’ll you have today?”
“The usual, my boy,” said Don, his left hand rooted firmly on a wooden cane. With a slow motion, he lifted the cane and pointed it at the baked goods display.
“And one of those chocolate croissants,” he added.
“Coming right up,” I said.
A few seconds later, I put two piping orange cups and an equally hot croissant between his fingers. He brought the coffee up to his pruned nose and soaked in the smell.
“Now this is good stuff,” he said.
“Careful Don,” I said, “or you might get addicted. Then you’ll go broke giving the Twisted Cauldron all your pension.”
“As if he doesn’t already do that,” said Julie, laughing.
“Good morning,” said Elise as she shuffled out of the back room with a box of pastries. She let it down on a table behind the counter, making the legs buckle from the weight.
“Those are some heavy boxes,” said Don. “What’s in ‘em?”
“New merchandise,” I said. “We’re introducing a new line of organic sandwiches.”
“Having trouble bringing in more young people? Isn’t free wifi enough?” said Don.
“That’s what I said!” said Elise.
“Not anymore Don,” I said.
“The poetry slam didn’t work last month? Or the chess tournament before that? Why don’t you just let a café be a café.”
“I need to find something,” I said. “I owe it all to Joe.”
“That uncle of yours still on the road? Mighty irresponsible to leave his nephew to cover his lazy ass” said Don.
“Last I heard he settled in Maryland. And it’s no trouble, really. I have fun working at Twisted Cauldron.”
There was no question that I enjoyed managing the café. The customers were great and the coffee bean smell never failed to bring a smile to my face.
It was also very taxing. The Twisted Cauldron only had two full-time employees, and I could count on one hand how many days off I gave myself in the last year and a half. Elise pestered me about taking more days off, and I knew she was right. Maybe when I found someone else to help me out. For now, however, the Twisted Cauldron was a lean enterprise, meaning that I can barely afford to pay Elise and give myself a salary.
The old couple retreated to a seat in the corner of the coffeehouse. Smooth jazz played through the speakers, leading Don to tap his moccasins on the hardwood. It relaxed me a little, too. An added benefit of being the manager: getting to choose the playlist.
A short lull was followed by the arrival of a new customer. The first thing that poked through the door was not a human, but a hat. It was a black wide-brimmed hat with a light purple streak, like the kind you would find at a store in the weeks leading up to Halloween.
Wearing the hat was a woman with big round eyes that looked like they could suck in anything she pointed them to. She shuffled inside and stopped, jumping in surprise when the door closed behind her.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi!”
She walked to the counter, the tip of her hat bobbing with every step. It was really amusing from my perspective.
“Are you Raul Backard?”
&n
bsp; “Yeah, I am,” I replied.
“Oh, good! I’m in the right place. Let’s see…”
She pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to me. It was a piece of papyrus written in the finest cursive I had ever seen.
“Hello Raul,” I said, reading aloud. “Please give Tessa a job at the Twisted Cauldron. Yours truly, Uncle Joe.”
I read it in silence a second time. It made me even more confused.
“Are you Tessa?” I said.
“That’s right,” said the girl. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Excuse me a second,” I said as I pulled out my phone and dialed. A groggy voice answered on the other line.
“Hey boy, how are you?” said my uncle.
“I got an interesting letter today…”
“About that…”
“Why did you tell me to give this girl a job? You know we barely have any money as is,” I said.
“I’m sure you can make it work,” he said. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. Uncle Joe was never one to make logical, business-conscious decisions. But still, why hire Tessa specifically?
“Is there any reason why you’re asking me to hire Tessa? Is she, like, super qualified or something?”
“Nothing like that,” said Joe, laughing. “In fact I’d even say she’s probably one of the least qualified people on the planet. Hiring her is a favor that I owe someone. I’m going to hang up now.”
Tessa stared at me, her smile and eyes unflinching. There’s nothing to do about it.
“Do you have experience working in a coffee shop? Or restaurant?”
“I don’t,” she said.
“Any skills you’d like to tell me about?”
“I'm a pretty good… Wait, I can’t share that. Sorry.”
Tessa wasn’t making this easy on me.
“How old are you?”
“I can answer that one,” said Tessa. Her eyes twinkled. She slammed her hands on the counter and put her face close to mine. “I’m twenty-two!”
“That’s good,” I said, prying my face away from hers. At least she is old enough to work.
“Have you ever made a cup of coffee before?” I said.
“Never!” she said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “Never tasted it either?”
“You what?!” I said. I turned around and put fresh coffee grounds in the shiny espresso machine. Tessa watched as I weaves my hands behind the counter. Two minutes later and I handed her a cup.
It was an espresso mixed with chocolate powder and warm milk. I topped it off with a dash of whipped cream and handed it to Tessa.
She took it in her hands and sipped.
“Well?” I said. “How is it?” The mocha is, without a doubt, the supreme form of the espresso. I could go on about how the chocolate complements it so well, but I’ll leave that for another time.
“It’s too bitter,” said Tessa, putting the cup down and pushing it as far away from her as she could. I was dumbstruck.
“Too bitter? The chocolate… the whipped cream… It’s all sugar!”
“Needs more,” she said.
“I think I need some time to think…” I said, dragging the half-finished mocha to the sink. I went over to Elise, who was busy attending to a customer.
“Uncle Joe asked me to hire her,” I said, pointing to Tessa. “She doesn’t know anything about coffee, so we’ll hold off on that for now. Can you teach her about handling inventory? I’ll handle things up here.”
“Sure thing, boss,” she said, raising her hand in salute. Elise approached the new employee and dragged her to the storage room, leaving me to handle the trickle of new customers.
Tessa had to be an extraterrestrial. No way would someone other than an alien think that a mocha wasn’t sweet enough.
Regardless, her arrival did change my future plans. I could pay Tessa without decreasing Elise and myself’s already meager salary, but at the expense of Twisted Cauldron’s “growth fund”. It was the name I gave to a pool of funds from the profit that I would use for things I thought would take the café in a new direction. It included activities like author signings and investments in ‘exploratory’ ingredients.
I was being too negative. Tessa might not seem like the most capable employee now, but she might grow into one. Having her around might encourage me to take more days off.
The rest of the morning rush resembled every other. I attended to the customers while keeping a close eye on Tessa. Our new employee struggled to carry the boxes of pastries that Elise could sling one-handed, and twice she almost tripped me while I prepared a customer’s drink.
“I’m sorry!” she repeated after one incident that forced me to brew a new cup of coffee.
“It’s OK,” I said. “Don’t worry about it. It’s your first day. Anyone would be nervous.”
“Never thought it would be this hard,” said Tessa.
“What? Working at a café?”
“No. Working in general,” she said, gathering the bags of scattered sandwiches on the floor. The marginal cost of a cup of coffee is a few cents, so losing that is no issue. Losing a sandwich on the other hand… I would rather not think about it.
I offered Tessa a smile and told her everything would work out. The girl returned a smile of her own. She pulled on the brim of her hat and returned to work. For the next two hours, she executed whatever task Elise had for her to do. No spills or tears necessary.
It was 1:30PM before I knew it. Elise took her break an hour ago, meaning that Tessa and myself were free to take ours. I found myself wanting to spend that time getting to know her. Tessa had been working at the Twisted Cauldron for a little over four hours, and it occurred to me that I didn’t know the first thing about her. More than anything, I wanted to find out why my uncle was so keen to give her employment.
“Elise, can you take over?” I said, taking off my apron.
“No problem,” she said, taking my position behind the register. Tessa wasn’t anywhere in the open, meaning that she was stuck doing something in the back room. I hung my apron by the door and turned the knob to go in.
I held my breath. Tessa stood with her back facing me. Coffee beans floated around her, each bean covered in a white hue. One by one the beans marched into the open container in her hands, as if orchestrated by some invisible puppetmaster. As if the objects had a life of their own.
“What’s going on?” I said.
“Raul!” said Tessa. As she turned to face me, the dozens of floating beans fell to the ground, each producing a barely audible plitter as they hit the hardwood.
“It’s not what you think, Raul!”
“The coffee was… floating, wasn’t it?” I said. My mind wasn’t playing tricks on me. I’ve never done acid or any hard drug, but I feel like the sight was more potent than any drug. Coffee beans moving on their own… could there be a rational explanation?”
“Let me explain, please,” said Tessa. Her face was red. Tears welled around her eyes.
“I have to go,” I said. Go anywhere but here.
“You can’t,” said Tessa. The door slammed shut behind me.
“Did you do that?” I said.
“I did,” said Tessa. “Raul, I’m about to tell you something but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”
“What are you saying?”
“Promise me, Raul!” The girl had a tight grip on my right hand. I got a sinking feeling that I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to.
“I promise, Tessa. I promise.” My heart beat so fast it threatened to burst out of my chest. The world around me faded, leaving only Tessa and myself. Her big eyes pleaded with me.
“I’m… a witch,” she said.
“A witch? Like, the I-can-do-magic kind?” I said.
“That’s the only kind,” she said.
“Doesn’t m-matter to me,” I said. “We don’t discriminate here at the Twisted Cauldron. haha…”
That was by far the worst joke I had ever made.
The punchline gets a D+, while the timing gets an F-. Try again the next time you uncover more earth-shattering news, Raul.
“You don’t have to be so nervous,” said Tessa. “I just tripped and spilled the beans all over the floor. Didn’t want you to get mad at me so I tried to fix it as quickly as I could.” She pulled on the brim of her hat and used it to cover her face.
“I’m such an idiot,” she said.
“You’re not.”
“You can’t tell anyone about this, Raul. Please.”
“I won’t… but I have a feeling he already knows.”
I dialed my uncle. He often had bizarre requests, like serving a person wearing a yellow hat a cappuccino at 3:23PM, or put a rubber chicken in the table closest to the door. This blew all of that out of the water.
“Hey, uncle,” I said in a sarcastic tone. “How’s everything? Did you maybe forget to mention that Tessa’s a witch?”
“You already found out about that?” he said. “Only took you a few hours, huh. Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.”
“As blunt as ever,” I said.
“I assume Tessa is there with you. Put me on speaker.”
I did as he asked me to. Tessa and I were so close we were butting heads.
“Hi Mr. Joe,” said Tessa.
“Hi girl. How’s my good-for-nothin’ nephew been treating you?”
“He’s been nothing but pleasant,” she said.
“Good. Let me get to it, then. Tessa here is a witch. All her life she’s lived in a witch colony in Maryland. The Council thinks that it’s important that she gets to experience the rest of the world. That brings me to my next request: help Tessa acclimate to life among us non-magic folk. I can’t stress how important it is.”
I had so many questions. Why was my uncle in league with a witch colony? What the hell is a witch colony?
“I can do that,” I said. “But managing the business on top of that… you’re putting too much trust in me.”
“Forget about the business for a second, Raul. Helping Tessa acclimate is far more important.”