Blend 9

Clara and Hachi had fallen into a monotonous routine now. They had opened the shop. Hachi made coffee, and Clara served it. Whenever people had problems, they would listen and help out. It was simple, the same, and unchanging, which was fine. But it meant that any time the routine went out the window, for whatever reason, it was all the more shocking.

“What can I get you?” Clara asked as a man in a business suit entered. He had a tanned leather suitcase and looked like he was a cross between some mobster and a rich businessman. How did those two things blend together? Clara had no idea.

“Don’t get him anything,” Hachi responded coldly.

Clara looked at Hachi, confused and slightly shocked that he would instantly refuse to serve someone. Especially if it meant Hachi wouldn’t get to brew something. What could have caused Hachi, of all people, to refuse to brew coffee for someone?

“Hachi, it’s time to pay the rent,” the man barked.

“I know, I’ll get it. Stop your yammering.”

“Mr Hachi, have you fallen in with the wrong crowd?” Clara asked, concerned.

“Wrong crowd?” The man asked, looking confused.

“Relax, he’s with the bank. The mobsters are going to come around next week,” Hachi commented dryly.

“Really?” She asked again, looking even more concerned for Hachi. Although she thought he was joking, the delivery was very dry, even for Hachi.

“No, it was a joke.”

“Don’t forget to grab that money,” the man prompted.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Hachi responded, scratching the back of his head. “I’ve got the cash. Hold on.”

Hachi went to the back of the shop and returned with an envelope.

“That should cover the next 6 months,” Hachi responded as he handed it over.

The man opened it up and flicked through the notes before putting it away in his suitcase.

“You got that long left?” The man asked.

“I figured if I paid for that long, I wouldn’t have to look at your ugly mug again.”

The man looked genuinely hurt at that comment.

“Gee, you know I’m just doing my job.”

“And I’m trying to do mine. You’re upsetting the customers.”

“What customers?” He asked, looking around at the completely empty shop.

“The customers that exist within my heart and soul,” Hachi responded coldly.

“I can’t believe you hate me that much. Well, what if I say I want something to eat and drink? I’ve been working since four and haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“If you say that, I hope you find a place that will serve you,” Hachi responded, turning his back on the man.

“Hachi!” Clara scolded. “Grab a seat, and we will happily serve you.”

Hachi mumbled something under his breath, which Clara and the man both ignored. The man took a seat close to the counter. To Hachi, this was just a further provocation, but to Clara and the man, it was simply the easiest seat for them to be served and maintain the conversation.

“Why do you hate the tax collector so much? He’s just doing his job,” Clara asked as she brought over a menu.

“He went to school with me,” Hachi replied, still refusing to serve the customer.

“So you are old friends?” Clara asked, feeling somewhat relieved that it may have just been an act between two old friends.

“I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“One of you was a bully, and the other was a victim?”

“No.”

“Your classmates shipped you two together and drew BL doujins of the two of you?” She asked as her nose began to bleed. Her mouth curled into a disgusting grin.

“I’ve told you this before, but you have a very active imagination,” Hachi replied, rolling up a newspaper to whack her with.

“I can hear you both, you know?” The man chimed in.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to speak behind your back,” Clara responded, flusteredly waving her arms about. She grabbed a napkin to plug her nosebleed.

“No harm at all,” he smiled at Clara.

“So what can I get you?”

“Could I get an almond toast?”

“No!” Hachi called out, but Clara and the man ignored him.

“Certainly,” Clara responded. “Almond toast, Hachi!”

Tsst Hachi hissed under his breath. “Fine!”

“So Mr… um?”

“Reggie,” He offered

“So, Mr Reggie, why does Mr Hachi seem to hate you?”

“He doesn’t like me because I refused to give him a loan to buy some exotic coffee beans. Can you believe he wanted to get these beans in exchange for borrowing against his home?”

“So you stopped him from losing his house?”

“That’s correct.”

She turned to Hachi and gave him a dirty look.

“Hachi! What the hell? You shouldn’t even be thinking of putting up a house for coffee beans!”

“They weren’t just coffee beans, they were Kopi luwak. A whole bunch of them.” Hachi had an annoyed expression. Though he continued to play along for Clara and was absolutely hamming up the feud between him and the tax collector, he was also somewhat annoyed that he couldn’t get all those beans.

“What’s that?” Clara asked.

“You going to tell her, or should I?” The man commented.

“They are the most majestic beans that have been partially digested by the very wonderful palm civet, giving it a truly unique flavour. A flavour cultivated beyond that of most other beans,” Hachi exclaimed.

“By partially digested… does that mean?”

“Yes, he wanted to put up his house for beans harvested from poop,” the man sighed.

“Hachi! Who would even drink that?! You should be praising this saint, not spiting him!”

“What do you mean? It’s completely safe to drink. The digestion process transforms the beans, making them highly sought after.”

Clara knew little about coffee but knew Hachi was obsessed, so she decided to drop it.

“Very well, I can see why you are so annoyed now.” She lied.

“Right!” Hachi exclaimed. “I only managed to buy a small amount.”

“You actually bought some?” Clara wasn’t sure if she was surprised or not; it was Hachi, after all. In the end, she decided she would hold some disgust for him.

“Yes, in fact, we haven’t grabbed an order yet. How about I make up a batch for all three of us?”

Hachi didn’t even wait for their response.

“Great,” Clara said, trying to disassociate herself from the thought of drinking ‘poop coffee’.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

End of Chapter 9