FIN

Crouching by the steps I quickly make the decision. Then pull in a deep breath of courage to ask him.

Never even get the chance. Because he muttered something before barking out an abrupt "Bye"  in my direction. Gave puppy a chin tickle then took off.

As if the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels.

That deep breath eventually warbles out a pitiful "Bye"  in response.

"Dammit! Undo will you?  Oh....sorry Puppy. I wasn't getting stroppy at you."

There's just no way I can think of this drooly little darling as a 'Fang'  of all things!

My shaking fingers stop worrying away at his leash which is still attached to the railing. They reach out to give his little head a loving pat instead.

It's only then that I cave. Turn my head to watch him as he almost bolts down the street and around the corner.

When he's finally out of sight? I twist around, and plant my bum on the step.

What....in the feckin feck....just feckin happened....Finleigh?

I feel like a mime artist. Raising my hands and eyebrows while shrugging my shoulders in sync. As if to say 'I dunno....you tell me'!

The look on that poor man's face. Once I explained, very badly mind you....that I actually wanted him to take a photo of me.

It's no wonder he dropped down to pat puppy. Because his cheeks and neck turned two shades darker than a red stop light. And he tried so desperately to hide it from me.

Then, he took off like a racehorse. As soon as he could decently get away from us.

Probably just as well though, huh?

Because it saved me  from the embarrassment of hearing his refusal. After I'd stupidly plucked up the courage to ask him. If he'd like to have his coffee....with me maybe?

To say thank you again for taking such a beautiful photo.

Ooooh, Finleigh Gallagher. You're so feckin lucky....that a liar's pants don't actually  catch fire!

You just wanted to be in his company for a bit longer. So you could take your time. And have a really good look at the man whose sexy voice almost turned your insides....out.

Whose hands pulled you in tight against an incredibly firm bod, whilst he lay his head against yours.

At least, I think that's what he did? I'm still too confused at what went down in a matter of mere minutes, to even know. So, maybe I'm just imagining it.

"Eejit, look for yourself!"

Puppy didn't jump at my exclamation this time. His head draped itself over a boot and now he's having a little snooze.

I carefully reach for my bag and extract the phone. Taking care not to wake him up until I'm ready....and able....to find my feet again.

He'd taken a couple of pics of us together and I enlarge one slightly until he fills the screen  🥴

Ok! Hadn't imagined it after all.

There I am, smiling automatically like a dickhead. Whilst he's almost smouldering into the lens.

Early to mid-thirties, I guess? And looking quite tired actually. Maybe, that's why he came across as a bit grumpy to start with....when I made my request.

Under the cap, his lightish brown hair is a bit straggly and damp. Obviously just had a morning shower as well. He'd certainly smelt of soap, deodorant and....himself.

The goatee and moustache whilst not feral are just nicely untidy.

And those eyes? Can almost feel them burning a hole right through me.

Whoooo boy.... 🫠

Honestly, Fin! You beg a total stranger to take a picture and here you are now. Slobbering all over him. Just like Puppy did to your phone.

I imagine myself starring in my favourite chick flick 'Moonstruck'.  And Cher is whacking her hand across my face while yelling....

"SNAP OUT OF IT!"

I do after a little while, especially when another thought flits through my head.

Why did he think I wanted a photo of both of us....together I mean? And not even bat an eyelid. Just did it automatically, as if he's done so a million times before.

Once again my shoulders, hands and eyebrows fly to the heavens in question. One that's never going to get an answer now.

Thanks to the fact that yet again? I couldn't brave the feck up sooner.

Gently picking up his floppy little body, I held Puppy close to my chest. He snuggled in and I managed to undo his leash. Begin walking on shaky legs down the street.

As I turn the corner another unanswerable question stops me dead in my tracks for a brief moment.

And why on earth did he take a photo of us....then me....on his own camera?

*

I reach the coffee shop with ten minutes to kill before Eddie's arrival.

And that's when all hell will break loose.

"Be a good boy, I'll be back"  I whisper to furby, while gently lowering him to the pavement.

Watch until he snuggles down into a ball and promptly falls asleep again. Then I tie his leash to the bike rack under the window.

This is another part of our usual morning ritual. And he's always been very good about staying put until I'm ready to take him home again.

"SHARKIE!  Yer later than normal today, Mavourneen. Was starting to think yer might've stood me up. Found yerself a piss-house instead"

Hubert owns and runs the little café I visit each day. His voice boomed out as I gently closed the door behind me and laughed at him. 

"Hubie....as if I'll ever forsake my little ray of black death for another. May I have some water please?"

He already had the bowl ready and waiting. Along with his usual roared warning.

"If that mutt shits on me welcome mat again? I'll rub yer nose in it....damned if I won't. And don't yer be giving me any of that resting bitch-face either, missy!"

"Git on with yer and make me a bloody coffee then, yer feckin bollix!"

I've got Unc's thick Irish brogue down pat now and I blow Hubie a kiss to take the sting out of my  usual retort.

Once I place Pup's bowl of water next to him, I race back inside and lean over the counter. To watch him coax his beautifully antiquated coffee machine into life.

"So, my dearest. What hideous concoction are you going to force down my throat today? Jaysus pleasus....not more of your bloody depresso I hope!"

"Fancy yerself as a feckin comedian, eh missy? Ye'll take what yer given and mind yer drink every feckin drop!"

***

I thought Hubie was going to flay me living. When my butt had wandered itself into his café the morning after I moved into the house-sit.

When he grumpily demanded what I wanted? I politely requested a pot of strong tea....and he almost burst a blood vessel!

"Are yer feckin blind....can't yer see this is a feckin coffee shop? God damned, bleedin thick tourists! Yer'll ne'er see that feckin camel piss served in here while I'm still feckin living and breathing."

"Now, order a feckin coffee or feck off with yer!"

My jaw almost hit the highly polished tiled floor in shock. Before it bounced back into place and started grinding teeth together. I responded in sudden, shaking anger....

"Get yer feckin hand off it why don'tcha, yer dryshite. And make me a bloody coffee then!"

We stood there, staring each other down like a couple of gunslingers. Before he turned with a huff, grabbed a cup and slammed it under the old machine.

"Going by the accent yer put on while yer was hollering yer shite? I'm guessing Donegal for yer parents. Where did yer sprout from then?"  He asked gruffly over his shoulder.

Throwing me with his mostly accurate observation.

"My Gramps and his brother left Ballyshannon when they were seventeen. Parted ways to seek their fortunes. Unc came here to New York and Gramps to Australia. That's where I'm from."

"And I'm guessing Sligo, then maybe the Bronx for you?"

"How in the hell....is yer a feckin witch or summat?"  This time he turned and stared at me in shocked curiosity.

"Nah, I saw the name on the business licence hanging on the wall over there. Guessing that's you? Nothing screams Sligo more than the surname of Kerrigan."

"And I also have a hunch, given the way your nose has been 'Oh-so delightfully'  rearranged all over your face? That the Bronx was your former stomping ground....literally."

His mouth twitched upwards. But he turned away again before I could see the reluctant smile form around his teeth.

"Now tell me! How is it that an Irish lad such as yourself, can't stand tea? Our ancestors would be turning in their graves if they knew...."

*

After such an inauspicious introduction to each other? You're probably wondering why the hell I return day after day.

Probably because he's still trying his hardest to bring me over to the dark side....of coffee drinking that is. And I don't want to disappoint him in his quest.

But really? It's because I love watching him try to maintain his grumpy demeanour. Whilst I tease the absolute shite out of him  😁

It makes for a nice change. Being the shite provider, instead of the long-suffering recipient  🙄

"So, Sharkie. I bet that both yer and that stinkin mutt have already created all kinds of havoc this morning, eh? What hellfire and damnation have yer got planned for the rest of the day then....me little divil? "

NORMAN

Stand outside for a minute. Dragging the smoke deep into my lungs, before flicking the spent butt into the large ashtray sitting next to the entrance.

The barista world's infamous version of the soup Nazi? Looked up with a scowl on his face when I closed the door behind me. His expression never changes, not even a little bit.

But as I've been a regular for years, a brief nod of his bald head and a few words are deigned upon me.

"Norm....yer still alive I see. Usual?"

"Better make it a double, Hubert. And keep em coming until this runs out."

I slap a couple of twenties down on the counter. Then plant my butt on the window seat in the tiny corner nook.

I always sit here, cos there's only enough room for one behind the minuscule table.

Anyone looking in from the street will only see my back. And those inside would have to peek around the wall or stand by the counter flap to see the rest of me.

It's private and peaceful. One of the reasons why I put up with the guy who owns the place.

The main one however, is a by-product of the man himself....

Hubert is such a grumpy prick? That only die-hard coffee drinkers like myself would ever deliberately  came in here. Because he sure can make a cup of joe that you'd kill for.

I've yet to have a fan interrupt my little haven of peace and quiet. And if one ever tries? I think they'd be out the door quick smart.

Leaving a fair chunk of their ass behind in Hubert's ever-loving care.

I sit and watch quietly as he sets about making up my order.

I'm guessing he's in his late fifties. Five feet nothing in height and just as wide across the shoulders. Pure solid muscle he is. With a face that's seen quite a few fists planted on it, I reckon.

I'm also betting whoever did manage to land one? Would've come off far  worse for the encounter.

Once he places your cup on the table? You have ten minutes to drink it. Then either order another one or get the hell out. No lingering or having a leisurely chat in this joint, that's for sure.

That's if you even make it far enough to place your order and pay for it in the first place.

I've seen many a tourist stroll inside and then slink right on out again. His curses ringing in their ears because they dared to try and engage him in a conversation. Or took too long making their minds up on what to order.

*

Get me another nod when the cup is delivered. And I take a glorious sip before finally succumbing to temptation.

Place the camera in my lap, press a button and stare at the screen.

Oh, fuck me!

How in the hell did she manage to smile like that? When I had her all but crushed up against me. With my ugly mug pressed against her beautiful one....like a lover.

Giving a small groan that's half embarrassment....half....I've no fucking idea? I press the off button almost savagely.

'Get over it, man. Drink your fucking coffee and think about the talk you're gonna have with Ming tomorrow!'  I order myself.

Before trying my hardest to do just that.

*

Ten minutes later I was onto my second cup and staring into space, when the door opened. Nearly choked on my mouthful as Hubert's words rang out almost  pleasantly.

Spray it all over the table when I hear the responding voice.

Did....did she just call him....Hubie?

I eavesdrop without shame. Sopping up coffee splatter with my napkin while marvelling at her mimicry of his Irish accent. As she gives back as good as she gets.

Lean forward in my seat slightly, to make sure the real Hubert is still here. And hasn't been replaced by a doppelg....what the fuck....IS HE SMILING????

If I could just sneak a quick photo of this historic event? I'll probably be granted legend status by the whole of Lower Manhattan. No one will ever believe me unless I get hard proof.

NAH!

Whilst I'm well known amongst my friends for doing a lot of incredibly dumb shit without thinking first? I'm not about to risk life and limb with this guy....no matter how tempting.

"Well, I don't know if I could call it havoc exactly. But this morning has definitely been interesting....memorable actually....so far."

Tilting my head, I can just see her leaning over his counter. Rocking her body forward as her legs lever off the floor behind her. Just like Ming does when I take him to McDonalds.

The view is....mesmerising.

"My friend will be here in a few minutes to pick me up. He's introducing me to a prospective housemate and we're going over there for lunch. Fingers crossed....because I'm starting to get a bit worried."

"If I don't find a place to move into once my house-sit ends? Then I might just have to take up residence on your 'Not Welcome'  mat. Oh, Hubie....how sweet. You drew me a shamrock in the bubbles, my a rún!"

"It's foam, yer tormenting witch. Feckin bubbles....Jaysus!  And it's for luck, not that yer deserve any such thing. Bad enough having yer mongrel shit on me mat, don't need yers as well."

"So ye better be on yer best behaviour and make a good impression for once in yer life. Cos my roof ain't going over yer feckin head. There goes that bitch-face again, Sharkie!"

"I can't help what my facial muscles do when you talk bushel loads of shite, Hubie. So what's in this cup anyway, my a rún....hemlock perchance?"

Have to keep my jaw clenched to stop the laughter from bursting out loud. I kinda get the impression that this is their normal communication style. And that he enjoys the banter as much as she obviously does.

Things went quiet for a little while as she drank her coffee. I listened as Hubert bustled around, cleaning his machine.

When the puppy began yapping outside, I turned to see a sleek black Lincoln pull up to the curb. The uniformed driver opened the rear door. And the wail of a baby ripped through the air, making the dog go crazy.

"It appears my carnival ride has arrived. Thanks for the cuppa, dearest. Is a fiver enough? I'll let you know tomorrow how I get on."

"Don't yer go bringing that flaming baby back with yer! If it comes within a foot of me door? I'll...."

"You'll what, my big adorable lump-of-grump?  It's a baby, for crying out loud. Even you were one once. And still are....heaven help us!"

The movement caught my eye.

And I stared in complete astonishment as she moved around to the counter hatch. Grabbed his bald head in her hands....and planted a kiss on top of his forehead. Before taking off outside.

"Git the feck away with yer....damned divil child!"  He roared with a huge grin.

I twisted again and watched through the window as she gracefully crouched down to pick up Fang. Shushing him gently as he yapped away and wriggled in her arms.

When she straightened? Those eyes of hers met mine and widened even more.

Her lips followed after a few seconds and she smiled hugely. Mouthing 'Thank you'  before turning and climbing into the back seat of the town car.

My own mouth let out a massively shaky sigh.

I eventually spin back....to find the terror-inducing sight of Hubert standing next to my table. Hands on his hips with a look of murder on his face.

He'd obviously just remembered that I'm still here. Have witnessed....and heard....the whole lot.

Ooooh fuck!  😱

"Yer open yer feckin mouth? Breathe one word to anyone about what yer think  yer just saw or heard, Norm....now or ever? I'll put yer feckin willy in a blender....and feed it to yer feckin cat! "

He whispered the threat menacingly while leaning forward over the table. My spine presses itself hard against the window. In a desperate attempt to put some space between us.

All I can do is hold up my hands in surrender while shaking my head furiously. I must've looked suitably petrified?

Because he nodded, grabbed my empty cup and stalked back behind his counter.

I count to ten before rising from the seat then carefully inching my way to the door. Making sure I'm safely on the other side and pulling it to a close. Before....I stupidly open my mouth.

"Keep the change. I'll see you tomorrow....Hubie...."

His ferocious roars follow me. As my feet skid on the pavement, when I sprint full-speed for my life around the corner....

Dictionary

a rún (Irish) - Love

Mavourneen (Irish) - Darling

Bollix (Irish) - foolish or contemptible man

Dryshite (Irish) - A dull and boring ass who will always be....dull and boring. Far from complimentary