She leaned against the bakery display case. “Andy, two flat whites, please.”
“Soon as I’ve filled this customer’s order. Is that all right?”
Ella nodded.
She couldn’t stand waiting, watching the clock tick over, so she strolled to the kitchen. Best check if more muffins had been baked. They’d almost run out, and the breakfast rush wasn’t quite over yet. Everything was under control, as she’d known it would be, and more muffins waited to be moved to the bakery display case. She had efficient staff, both in the front and the back of her establishment. How did she get to be so blessed?
You’re a daughter of the King, that’s how.
With a smile, she lifted one of the Strawberry Cream muffins and took a bite. Hmm, these were good. She rarely indulged in such luxuries. You are what you eat. Today she’d make an exception. Finishing the muffin, she dabbed the corners of her mouth with her finger, and then made her way back to the front of the shop.
Oh, no. She knew there’d be a price to pay for having that muffin. Phoenix already stood at the counter. He caught her eye and smiled.
Andy stepped closer. “Good morning. What’ll it be for you, today?” His standard greeting. Of course, he had no idea the flat whites she’d requested were for the customer he was serving and her.
Phoenix glanced up at the menu board on the wall behind the counter. “I think today I’ll have a grande caramelatte. And one of those strawberry muffins of the day.”
What? No flat white? The winds of change were certainly blowing around Ella’s.
Ella waited for him to take his muffin and grande caramelatte—a tall glass cup topped with a mountain of whipped cream and drenched in caramel sauce—to a table beside the window. Hopefully he’d know which one. “Andy, hand me one of those flat whites, and keep the other for yourself.”
Smiling, he passed her one of the cups that were ready, waiting. “Thanks, Ella. Could do with a shot of caffeine. I think each morning gets crazier this time of the year. Wish it was my afternoon off today, not yours.”
“Tomorrow, Andy. Tomorrow.”
Coffee in hand, Ella walked across the room to the window tables. She slid into the wingback chair. “Mind if I join you?”
He looked up from the reserved sign she’d had placed on the table with her rendition of the phoenix bird sketched in the corner. “Not at all. I presume this table was meant for me?”
“I’m glad to see you figured out my drawing and didn’t mistake it for a bird of paradise or superb lyrebird.”
“I know exactly what a phoenix looks like. You did a great job. But then, you’re a fantastic artist.”
“Thank you. So are you. I really enjoyed your music this morning. Hope you’ll nab that spot every day.”
“That’s my plan.” He leaned toward her and brushed his finger over her bottom lip.
Ella started.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to be forward. You had a spot of cream on your lip.”
Busted. Why hadn’t Andy pointed it out? A laugh slipped from her mouth. “And here I thought I could pull off a cheat with nobody but my kitchen staff knowing.”
Phoenix’s chuckles joined hers. He picked up his muffin, bit almost half away, and then offered her some, too.
“Why not? They’re really good.” She placed her hand on his and guided the muffin to her lips taking a small bite. Not too much—she’d already indulged enough for one day. Chewing, she wiped her lips. Only once she’d swallowed did she dare ask. “Any telltale signs?”
He smiled and shook his head. “None.”
“Good.” Ella took a sip of her coffee, and Phoenix followed suit. “I won’t keep you long. I know you like to spend the time reading your Bible…praying, maybe?”
“I do.”
Ella inhaled deeply then slowly exhaled. “It’s my afternoon off today. Would you like to go to the beach with me? It’s a gorgeous day. Although, with four seasons passing through Melbourne daily, it’s anyone’s guess what the weather will be like by the time we get there.”
He turned his attention to his coffee, slowly demolishing the mountain of cream one spoonful at a time.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
He hated to disappoint her, and could see he had. But going to the beach with Ella wasn’t possible. Justin took a sip of his caramelatte, no longer enjoying it as he should. She’d been kind to him, and he’d thrown that kindness in her face.
A few hours with his toes buried in the sand, the sun and water on his skin, sounded heavenly. But swimming and sunbathing would mean she’d see his tattoos. All of them. If she didn’t recognize him by then, someone else was bound to.
Ella stared at him. Waiting for an explanation? She took a deep breath. “You can’t, or you won’t?”
“I’d really love to go, but I only started working today. How about next Wednesday?”
“It’s Christmas Eve. Besides, you’re your own boss, aren’t you?”
She was right. Work was a flimsy excuse. And she’d seen the money lining the velvet of his guitar case earlier. He didn’t have to work this afternoon.
“I don’t have swimming shorts with me, or a towel.”
Hand to her mouth, Ella stifled her laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“A towel I can help you with. Swimming shorts…no. I couldn’t see you in a pair of mine.”
Neither could he. He couldn’t see himself in a pair of his own, either. He no longer owned a pair. He’d have to buy some.
Ella dropped her hand to the table and leaned forward. “I know. How about we go tomorrow? That way you can come prepared in the morning. I have a certain apprentice barista who is dying to have his afternoon off today.” She smiled. “Win-win situation.”
Win-win? Maybe. Surely one afternoon relaxing with a beautiful girl on a beach couldn’t hurt.
CHAPTER FOUR
JUSTIN PEEKED BETWEEN THE BLINDS of his second story room onto the busy street below, his gaze rising to the train lines beyond the empty lot. Now he had to lug his guitar into the city every day, he’d forego the hour-long walk and catch the train. He missed living in London’s best suburbs, but he didn’t miss the life that went along with the privilege. Not at all.
This diverse immigrant area where he’d managed to secure short-term accommodation offered a plethora of dinner options, including Indian, Italian, North African, Thai, and Vietnamese. Good food made up for the low-rent accommodation.
He couldn’t stop smiling, even though no one was there to see him. Satisfaction wrapped around him like the warmth the day outside promised. For the first time in forever he had the chance to do something normal—an afternoon at the beach. With a beautiful woman. He hadn’t done normal in so long he’d forgotten what it was, how it felt. Already he wished the morning away. Only one gray cloud loomed on his horizon. Doubt. Could he pull this off without looking over his shoulder? If he wanted to start living again, he’d better try hard. Still, he couldn’t be too careless.
Justin yanked on a denim jacket then pulled his hair out from beneath the collar. He grabbed the new towel, swimming shorts and sunglasses he’d bought the day before on his way home—having resisted the brand names he’d been so accustomed to—and packed them inside his backpack with his Bible. He hitched the straps over his shoulders then smoothed a hand across his jawline. Another thing he hadn’t felt in a long time. Baby steps back to normality. What would Ella think? Except for the long hair, he looked almost like himself again. His hair had never been this long. The band’s colorful Mohawk hairstyles were one of their signature traits. That and their tattoos. Especially the tattoos on their backs.
He pulled the cap over his head and adjusted the peak. Habit. One he’d soon break, God willing. He lifted his guitar case and stepped outside the place he called home, locking the door behind him. Day two. He’d done well yesterday—people loved his playing. Surely he could afford to take the afternoon off.
Never mind afford to. He want
ed to.
The spot outside Ella’s was already taken by the time he got to Southbank Promenade. The mime act he’d seen at the review meeting on Tuesday. He chuckled. Would be a quiet two hours outside Ella’s. He tried further down the promenade. No luck. Everyone was out early this morning. Who could blame them on such a perfect day? He continued to Riverside Quay. Same scenario. Finally he found an open space to settle down at Freshwater Place. He’d miss his nine o’clock coffee at Ella’s.
The next two hours went by fast and profitably, as did the subsequent two at Riverside Quay. Only one more set, and he’d found a place close to Ella’s. God looked on him with favor today.
Just before one o’clock, Justin pocketed his earnings and packed his guitar away inside its case. Then he headed toward his favorite coffee shop. Not that he’d been to any others. But even if he had, he knew which one he’d still prefer, and it wasn’t just because of Ella’s tasty, artistic coffees.
Ella worked hard behind the machines when Justin stepped up to the counter.
She lifted her head, and he smiled.
“I’ll be with you in a second.” She finished the artwork in the foam then set down the long thin stick she worked with. After wiping her hands on her apron, she handed two tall coffee cups, with their elaborate paintings on top, to a waitress. She turned to Justin with a smile. “Hi. What’ll it be for you today, sir?”
Did he look that different without a beard and mustache? Perhaps this would jog her memory. “A flat white, please.” He used his best posh British accent.
Her eyes widened as she brought her hand to her mouth. “Phoenix? Y–you shaved?”
Grinning, he nodded.
“You look so different. If you hadn’t spoken, goodness knows how long it would’ve taken me to recognize you.”
“Can I buy you a coffee to go, as well?”
“That would be great. I missed you at eigh— nine.” Ella placed two takeaway cups on the grid beneath the spout and pulled the levers forward.
“I missed being here, too, but I was playing way over at Freshwater Place. As I’m not working this afternoon, I decided to press through until now. Let me tell you, I can’t wait for that coffee.”
Ella smiled as the machine hissed and steamed like a grumpy dragon. One that made the most delicious coffee.
“So what’s your muffin of the day?” he asked.
“Butterscotch Pecan.”
Justin moistened his lips. “Sounds mouthwatering. Pop two in a bag to go, as well.”
“Are you sure? I do have a picnic basket packed.”
He raised a brow. “Do you have Butterscotch Pecan muffins in there?”
She laughed. “I think of them as breakfast food.”
“Breakfast food? Ella, your muffins can be eaten any time of the day.”
Pink colored her cheeks as she snapped lids onto the cups, then grabbed a paper bag, branded Ella’s Barista Art Café, and placed two brown muffins inside.
“I need to change into my swimsuit before grabbing our food basket. Then we can be on our way. Do you need to change?”
He probably should put his shorts on under his jeans. He nodded.
“Follow me. The bathrooms are right this way.”
Justin shadowed her down a short passage.
She turned as she pushed open the door to the ladies. “If you want, we can leave your guitar here and get it later on our way home.”
“I’d like to bring it, if you don’t mind.”
“No worries.” She paused further. “It’s special to you, isn’t it?”
“It is. Besides, one never knows when one might need to serenade a beautiful lady.”
Ella stepped forward into the bathroom, shaking her head. “I like the way you think, Mr. Guitarman.” The door shut closed behind her.
The guitar case wouldn’t fit into the boot of Ella’s hatchback, so the picnic basket, blanket and their bags went there instead. Justin managed to get the guitar in behind the passenger seat, albeit at an angle.
He drank his coffee while Ella drove. When she was able, she sipped hers. It was clearly a challenge for her to drink and drive through the traffic, and she did so with caution.
Soon as his cup was empty, Justin placed his sunglasses on his face and relaxed into the seat, stretching his legs. Hot from the jacket he wore and the warmth of the car, he began to doze.
Justin stirred as Ella touched his arm. “Wakey-wakey, sleeping beauty.”
He wiped the perspiration from his forehead with his sleeve then lifted the sunglasses to peek at Ella through one eye.
“I’m sorry it’s so hot in the car. I need to have the aircon repaired. You should’ve taken off your jacket.”
Yawning, Justin shook his head and sat upright, trying to push away the sleep.
“You must’ve been really tired. You passed out within minutes of finishing that coffee. Unless you get drowsy from the car’s motion…” Ella smiled, releasing a soft laugh. “My mum told me that when I was a baby and wouldn’t sleep, she and my dad would strap me in my car seat and take me for a drive. I’d be out within minutes.”
“It was a pretty intense morning.” Playing nonstop for almost six hours, with only small breaks in-between… He gazed through the windshield at the blue expanse of Port Phillip Bay. “I’m looking forward to relaxing on the beach, the sound of the ocean in my ears.”
“I think you’ll have more than the ocean’s noise in your ears.” Ella opened her door and hopped out of the car.
Justin did the same. He grabbed the picnic basket and blanket from the boot before she could. And his backpack. “Lead the way.” He glanced around the parking lot. Too full for his liking. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Would she be prepared to move to a less busy beach? He’d ask her—after lunch.
“Where are we, by the way?”
Ella held onto her sun hat, preventing the breeze from snatching it from her head. “Brighton Beach, one of my favorite places on the bay.”
They stepped onto the brown sand dotted with tiny pebbles. A row of brightly colored bathing huts hugged the edge of the narrow beach, teaming with people as far as he could see. Some were sunbathing, others swam in the ocean. A nearby group enjoyed a game of beach volleyball.
Ella groaned. “I was afraid of this. Holiday-makers. Not sure we’ll find an open patch of sand.”
“We could sit on this side of the beach.” He pointed to his right. “Not many people there.”
“We could. But it’s further to the swimming area, unless you want to stick to the confines of the tidal pool. I don’t think the lifeguards would be happy if we swam that side.”
“We could find a less crowded beach?” There, he’d said it.
“I really like this one.” Hand to her eyes, she scoured the sea of people. “It is an option, though. Let’s have lunch first. Maybe a spot will open up later and we can move.”
Hopefully not.
With a nod, Justin walked in the opposite direction, away from the crowds. He continued on until they were way past the last of the people dotting that side of the beach. Then he set the basket down and spread the blanket on the soft sand.
Stripping out of her skirt and top, Ella wrapped a sarong around her bathing suit. Why would she want to hide her body? It was perfect. He, on the other hand, had plenty of reasons to keep himself covered. But if he didn’t get out of his jacket and jeans now, he’d melt and the thirsty sand would swallow the puddle he would become.
Ella sat down on the blanket, opened the basket and unpacked their lunch while Justin yanked off his Union Jack Converse All Stars. He sank his feet into the warm sand, cooler underneath. That felt good.
“I like your shoes. They’re so… British.” Ella attempted to stifle a chuckle with her fist. Didn’t help.
“What gave you that idea?”
“Oh, I don’t know. A little flag told me, I guess.” She laughed harder, and he joined her.
“Something cold?” She held out a soft drink to h
im.
“Thanks.” Justin cracked open the can, took a long swig, and then bent over to set the drink down, wedging it in the sand. He removed his jeans and jacket, the tattoos on his right arm trumpeting his reasons for covering up.
“Whoa, that’s a lot of ink.”
Justin shrugged. “Misspent youth.” Wait till you see my back.
Ella took his hand and pulled his arm closer, no doubt to read the words tattooed between the black swirls. He sank his knees into the blanket before her.
“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fail.” She glanced up at him. “That’s beautiful. Ralph Waldo Emerson.”
“If you say so.”
“You don’t know his writing?”
He shook his head. He’d never really been into reading until Pastor Jim introduced him to the Bible.
“So what made you choose it?”
What indeed? When he’d decided to have the quote inked forever on his arm, he’d done so because of the bird on his back, the phoenix rising. He’d failed so many times because of his addiction, and if not for meeting Pastor Jim in that park, he might’ve never risen from his ashes of failure. He would’ve died. Might still, thanks to Danny and his goons. But if he hadn’t failed the way he did the day he met Jim Anderson, he would never have found Jesus and learned to fly on eagle’s wings. For that he’d willingly die. In a way he did—every day. To self, to sin, to the world and all it had to offer.
Justin moved back to sit. He pulled his legs up, wrapping his arms around his knees. “It sounded profound at the time. Still does, but in a different way.”
“A spiritual way?” Ella’s green eyes held his gaze.
“Yes.”
Leaning forward, he grabbed a bun layered with a myriad of colors. Lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, some kind of cold meat, and cheese. “This looks tasty. I’m starved.”
“Wish I could take the credit, but I have great staff in the kitchen who put together the picnic basket for two. Of course they were intrigued because I’ve never done anything like that before.”
Melbourne Memories (Heart of Australia) Page 4