Chapter Three
1000 Words
"Honk honk!!!" Cal tooting his horn as he pulls by at Alex's studio.
"Hey Cal," she greeted warmly.
"Hello Alex," responded Call. "shall we?"
"Yes, please!"
She sat at the front seat, scribbling into her notebook, the same one she had drawn her rough sketches and possibly her ideas about the café. Her fingers were slightly numb from the chill that came with the season’s damp breath. Still, she was focused, eyes darting between the café's mockup sketches and the real-time ideas forming in her head.
"So," Cal said, hands relaxed on the steering wheel as they pulled into the small lot in front of the café, "this place isn't broken, but it could use some charm. Something warm, like home. You know?"
Alex nodded, not looking up. "You said it's gonna be opening in a few weeks right?"
"Yeah, officially. Client wants it fixed up before the grand opening next month. No major construction. He's not looking to revamp. Just texture and identity."
The café stood out, not by being flashy or magnificent, but in how perfectly kept it was. Clean brick walls, large rain-streaked windows, a black-and-white sign with understated lettering: "MY PLACE"
It was simple. Clean. But it lacked soul.
They stepped out of the car. The rain had eased to a mist, clinging to her coat. She pulled her hood up as they made their way to the door, Cal unlocking it with a quick twist.
Inside, it smelt quite stuffy. The air smelled of aged wood, and quiet possibility. Tables were spaced evenly, chairs stacked neatly along the walls. The color scheme leaned industrial cool grays, unfinished steel, concrete floors, but Alex saw what it could be.
She moved slowly, absorbing. The sound of rain tapping against the window created a stillness she didn’t realize she needed. Her notebook opened again. Fingers worked instinctively, jotting down notes.
"Whoever owns this place," she murmured, "knows what he's doing. The bones are good. But the space? it’s missing warmth."
Cal leaned against the counter, watching her. "That's your department. You're the fixer. You work the magic out!"
Alex almost smiled but held back.
She walked toward the wall opposite the entrance, pressing her fingers against a wooden panel. "Reclaimed wood. But it's been treated too cleanly. It needs weathering. Texture."
She turned, eyes scanning upward. "Track lighting is too unadorned. If we swap in some dome fixtures… bronze or no -teflective black, warmer hue bulbs."
Cal sighed low. "You're good. Damn good."
She didn't respond to praise well, not anymore. Too many words once used to manipulate her, soften her up before the hit came. She just nodded again, jotting down another note. "Some padded seating, earth tones. Maybe leather. Pendants over the counter. A reading hideaway in that back corner."
Footsteps echoed from the back hall before Cal could reply.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," a voice called out. Low. Warm. Clear like autumn atmosphere.
Alex looked up and froze for just a second too long.
A tall man stepped into the space, dressed in a dark button-up, sleeves rolled to the elbows. His presence was confident without being loud. Hair damp from the drizzle, he ran a hand through it casually. His warm, deep brown eyes landed on her with a spark of polite curiosity.
"This is the designer?" he asked, glancing toward Cal.
"Alex Monroe," Cal said. "Alex, this is Julian, My client who owns the café."
Julian offered a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Her grip was hesitant. Loose and weak. Damien had killed her confidence and self-image.
"You've got a beautiful space," she said, stepping back.
"I hope to," Julian replied. "I'm counting on you to bring it to life."
Professional, smooth, and polished. The manner in which he approached her made her pause for a moment. Just the strange calm of someone who didn’t immediately measure her worth through social pedigree or scandalous headlines. She thought to herself.
She nodded and opened her sketchbook. "I've got a few preliminary ideas. Mostly surface level, textural changes, lighting, layout. Nothing structural. Just layers."
"Good," he said, stepping beside her to look at the pages. "I don’t want it to look forced. Just comfort. Like you've stumbled into your favorite memory."
She blinked. That was poetic.
"I think we can manage that."
Julian glanced around the space, hands on his hips. "I want it to be a place where people come and feel like they've arrived. A place that is theirs, without realizing they were looking for somewhere to be."
Her lips parted, then closed. She didn’t know what to say to that. Not because it was odd, but because she understood it too well.
"I'll put together a mood board," she said, swallowing. "Textiles, colors, sample pieces. Then we'll go over it together, decide what works."
Julian nodded. "Sounds good. Let's set up a time."
"Three days?" Cal offered. "Gives her time to prep."
Julian glanced back at Alex. "Works for me. You okay with that?"
She nodded. "I'll come back with visuals. Fabric samples. Maybe some digital mockups."
"I'll see you then," he said, stepping back. “Appreciate your time."
He turned and disappeared down the same hall he entered from, footsteps fading into the distance.
Alex stared at the door for a second longer than necessary.
Cal spoke, breaking the quiet. "Guy is not what I expected when he said he bought a café."
"He's something," she said quietly, closing her sketchbook.
They stepped outside into the misting rain, and she pulled her coat tighter around her.
The rain fell harder as she stepped into Cal’s car.
She didn't see the black sedan parked down the street. Someone had been following her. She'd noticed a car with tinted windows. The one that had been tailing her since she left home in the morning.
The one that didn’t leave even after she did.
Alex seems to be in trouble. She's being monitored by someone.
And who could be keeping trail on Alex?
- Writer
