Chapter 18:

(Coco) Doubts

Cafe Eris


I woke up to the sound of my mother yelling into my ear. I must’ve fallen asleep while she was going over today’s schedule. For the past week now, I’ve been catching my Z’s on the planes to and from Korea, but it’s actually been pretty fine. I guess I’m just used to it at this point.

“COCO. ARE YOU LISTENING? THIS IS IMPORTANT. YOU ARE TO SPEND THE ENTIRE DAY AT CAFÉ ERIS. THERE IS A COMPETITION THAT I SIGNED YOU UP FOR, BUT I AM NOT THAT CONCERNED ABOUT YOU WINNING.”

“Wait, what do you mean you’re ‘not that concerned’ about me winning?”

She licked her finger to turn to the next page of her itinerary. I thought she ignored my question, but after a few seconds, she looked up at me from her giant sunglasses.

“LETS JUST SAY I HAVE MY BETS ON SOMEONE ELSE.” She looked back down and continued to read.

What was that all about? She’d never said something like that before…She’s only ever been on my side. Who could she possibly prefer over her own son? The son that she had molded into the perfect poster child? No… This can’t be… Did she find someone better? How talented could this person be, to have my OWN MOTHER like them? This is unheard of!

Just thinking about the possibilities had my skin crawling. What inhumane stage presence must this person have? If Rika Park herself has her bets on this person, I definitely have to up my game. Wait, if my mom likes them, that probably means I can’t compete with them in the first place! Will I even have a chance? I’ve pretty much been training since the womb, but will that even be enough? I’m only a teenager, what if this person has more experience?

For the first time in my life, I doubted my own abilities.

Dammit.

Maybe I should take a nap. I need to clear my mind, I can’t be on my best game if I’m too stressed.

We arrived at the café by 10am sharp. We had a layover at the local airport so we could go to the café via helicopter. This is… slightly unusual, as we normally leave the café in the helicopter. Convenience, you know? On a regular visit, we would just take a taxi to get there. Maybe this was a way to assert dominance over the competition? Damn, just how good is this person? I shivered in anticipation.

Once inside the café, my mom and I walked to the counter. I got a weird shiver down my spine… It felt like someone was watching me. Huh, there must be paparazzi outside or something. I didn’t really care, I needed breakfast, after all.

My mother doesn’t, though. She had her breakfast on the plane. Her morning meals start off with a cup of kopi luwak, no milk or sugar. She doesn’t want to taint the flavour. Next, she has two servings of crispy rice pancakes, filled with double-fried potato and chickpeas. For her “dessert,” she has coconut crepes with maple ricotta and boysenberries. Lastly, she cleanses her palette with a simple fruit cup, consisting of dragonfruit, starfruit, rambutan, mangosteen and camu berries. She normally finishes everything in the span of 15 minutes, but on rare occasions I’ll get a spoonful of maple ricotta (maple ricotta specifically because the chef adds extra when his supplies are bountiful).

Thinking about my mother’s meal has me extra hungry. Luckily, it was our turn to order.

My mother stepped in front of me. Ah, it was the guy that messed up our order before.

“YOU AGAIN,” she sneered, “I WANT COCO’S USUAL. WE ABSOLUTELY NEED IT THIS TIME, HE HAS A COMPETITION TO PARTICIPATE IN.”

The guy - Tristan, if I remember correctly - wore an expression similar to a deer in headlights. He seemed to be frozen in time, until he shook his head and snapped out of it.

“Right away, Ms. R-Rika.” His head bowed in submission. I raised a brow, this guy seemed to learn fast. Good for him.

My mother and I watched as he made my non fat, no dairy, no meat, vegan, extra cream, extra egg, gluten free, oat milk matcha latte with extra foam and a frog design on top with practiced ease. Clearly he had been dreading our return.

According to my mother’s stopwatch (don’t ask why she does that), the drink was finished in one minute and 37 seconds. Damn, new record. Tristan placed the drink on the counter with shaky hands.

My mother took out her protractor and let out an impressed huff. “GOOD WORK, CHRISTIAN.” She handed him a 100 bill and turned to take a seat. I took my time following her, watching Tristan’s mouth gape like a fish. This loser’s probably thinking, “U-u-uh, m-m-y name is actually T-Tristan, Ms. Rika!” I’m glad he didn’t say it, though. I know for a fact that my mother does not give a flying hoot about his actual name.

Once seated, my mother pulled out her phone and began scrolling through Bacefook. I took a sip of my drink, and I could feel the stress of the morning fade away. Ahhh… That hit the spot. My mind seems to be in a good place. Hopefully I can give a good performance and win this thing.

My mother explained earlier that I would be doing a simple STB vocal cover. At first she wanted me to do the choreography as well, but there wasn’t not enough space in the performance area. Normally she makes me dance, regardless of how much space, or any possible safety concerns, but I heard her mumbling under her breath, “WE ARE NOT DOING ANY FREE SHOWS. THIS IS NOT A CHARITY.”

I looked around the room to see if any competition was here, but all I saw were some café regulars. The mysterious detective lady, the stressed-out high school girl… Yeah no one out of the ordinary. I’m not surprised though, who the hell would arrive two hours early?

The competition started at 12, and I was second-last in performance order. There were less than 10 people competing today, so this was gonna be a breeze. I planned on warming up my vocal chords by 11, but for now I’d have a warm drink to soothe my throat. This non fat, no dairy, no meat, vegan, extra cream, extra egg, gluten free, oat milk matcha latte with extra foam was a cold drink, and I could feel my throat constricting. Considering how high of a key STB’s songs were, I definitely needed to get a warm drink.

I was so bored, I ended up watching Tristan set up the mini-stage. He fumbled with the backdrop the most, dropping pieces and grimacing when a loud bang resounded throughout the room. Everytime he drops something, I could see the owner of the café peek his head through the back and laugh as loud as possible. I guess public humiliation is a form of punishment at this café. I giggled along with the owner.

I checked the clock and it was only 10:30. Ugh, I hate arriving early. It gives me too much time to overthink and I get overly nervous.

I sat upright and closed my eyes. I might as well start my pre-performance meditation now. I took some deep breaths and tuned out the sound of my mother watching Bacefook videos on full volume. I focused on giving a good performance, and beating whoever stole my mother’s attention.

Breathe in, and think about all the amazing high notes I’m gonna hit.

Breathe out, and think about the warm plane seat that I’m gonna sleep on tonight. So comforting.

Breathe in, and… think about… the relief of… winning the competition…

Breathe out… and… I swear I could see someone staring at me from the hallway near the bathroom… This person’s gaze was almost tangible. Huh, I must already be dreaming. This is probably gonna be a deep sleep.

I took one last breath in, and I promptly fell asleep.