Cafe Amara

“Twenty ounce honey vanilla latte with oat milk please.” a low warm voice soothed over the counter. “Of course, is there anything else you would like today?” Scarlet questioned back and looked up at the man. “That’s all.” he said, smiling with light dancing in his green eyes. “Five dollars please.” Scarlet mumbled, reaching for the ten dollar bill that was extended out to her. “Keep the change,” said the stranger, still staring at her as he walked away. She bit her lip, a stupid nervous habit, and fumbled the change into the register and tip jar. Carefully, she made the perfect shots and started steaming the milk and honey swirling them together. It certainly wasn’t the first time a man looked at her longer than usual, but she couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at her that intensely. Most of the people who come in seem to be on autopilot, always on their way somewhere else and in a hurry. Making coffee wasn’t her favorite pastime, but she still put effort into every cup. Most importantly, it was a nicer way to pay her bills than most minimum wage jobs. It helped that she also loved the smell of coffee. Cafe Amara was stunning inside. Soft warm lighting touched the marble tables and counters and danced off of the copper accents that decorated the store. Fresh flowers filled the store and the walls were painted a dark peach color. Behind the counter was a detailed mural of peonies signed by E. Rhodes. She set the cup down on the counter, glancing up to see the green eyed man smirking at her. Quickly, she looked down and turned the other direction. She needed a moment, his stare was intense. Hungry, possibly. “I’ll be right back”. Scarlett said to her coworkers as she shifted her way to the cafe restroom. Looking at her face in the tall brass mirror, she noticed her cheeks were slightly flushed. Her hands caressed through her long auburn red hair as she started braiding it back, then she glanced at herself again. People told her that she was beautiful often, but Scarlet was used to seeing her own face. She knew her freckles and smile lines all too well, just another average face. Maybe he thought that she was someone else for a moment. The commute from the cafe was short as she lived a fifteen minute walk away uptown. It was early fall in Northern California and despite her love of summer, autumn was her favorite. The season seemed to bring a warm soft glow to the city, and even through the newly crisp air you could feel the sun on your skin. Faces seemed to blur past her peripheral view until she finally came to her quaint, old apartment. It had charm for its age. She lived on the third floor of a building complex built in the early 1930’s, and for the price she had few complaints. It had white brick walls and a black terrace balcony that came with a matching fire escape outside her window she could watch the city lights on. Her apartment was moderately updated but still kept the dark oak floors and vintage touches to it. It was home for her. Setting down her bag, she noticed her roommate Hazel wasn’t home, which was typical. Between work and her new boyfriend, she wasn’t home much anymore; it almost felt lonely without her cheerful presence in the room. After removing her apron she lazily stripped down. She tied a black silk robe around her waist and sat at her desk. On her desk lay silk, lace, thread, cotton cloth, fishnet material, needles and her unfinished set of lingerie next to her sewing machine. The emerald green lace bra just needed straps sewn on, and then the set was finished. After carefully stitching the straps on, she slipped the set on. The soft lingerie fit snug across her lean curvy body. The jewel color brought out her deep red hair and when she looked in the mirror, she smiled at herself. She felt beautiful.. and sexy. Not just average like usual. Spinning to examine the set, she felt proud of her work. How she would love to do this as a career she thought to herself. Scarlett woke up the next morning to the sweet aroma of breakfast being made. She slipped on her fuzzy fur slippers and black silk robe and lazily strode out of her bedroom. “Good mornin’ darlin’!” Hazel chirped from the kitchen while flipping a crepe. “Good morning sunshine” Scarlett chimed back while taking a seat at a barstool. Hazel smirked deviously at her. “What?” Scarlett asked curiously. Hazel ran back to her purse on the kitchen counter and squealed while flashing two tickets. “I got us tickets! Tomorrow night!” “To what?” Scarlett furrowed her brow. Hazel was always going somewhere and doing something, usually taking her along with her. “A twenty one and over masked Parisian themed party at an exclusive club!” Hazel's eyes lit up as she explained it. “Imagine all of the French boyfriends we will find you! “French men? Masked French men? In San Francisco?” Scarlett giggled. “Why of course! They oughta be homesick. I got the tickets from a client last night after I did her makeup for her photo shoot. She said she would be out of town and didn’t want her friends going without her.” “Wow, and you didn’t want to take Jax with you?” She questioned her. Hazel looked down a little melancholy. “We had a little argument last night. But never mind that, I miss you and I need a second away from him anyway. It’ll be fun, I swear. We can dress up and drink Amaretto and Creme de cassis!” She cooed with a poorly executed French accent. Scarlett laughed. “Is that why you’re making burnt crepes this morning?” Scarlett teased. “Oh goodness!” Hazel panicked and quickly ran back to her pan. After having burnt the first one, she made a dozen strawberry and creme filled crepes which Scarlett ate gratefully. The sweet tang of the strawberries gracefully played with the creamy filling inside, perfectly balanced by the thin tasty crepe. Maybe Hazel should open a crepe shop instead of running all over the city putting makeup on bitchy clients, she thought. “Are you guys okay? Are you okay?” She questioned Hazel. Hazel looked away, seemingly trying to avoid the subject. “Things will be fine. We just need to cool off”. She said casually. It must not have been that bad of an argument Scarlett thought to herself. Hazel could be a little extreme and hot headed sometimes but everyone seemed to be drawn to her. Maybe their argument was over that, how many people were always around her like a magnet. It was just the kind of energy she carried herself in. Whenever Scarlett went out with Hazel she could expect to watch men hit on her blonde, bubbly friend most of the night. Maybe tomorrow night would be different, and they could just dance together and spend some much needed time together. Being that it was her day off, Scarletts favorite thing to do was to go to the Friday Farmers Market. She dressed herself in a dreamy white vintage dress that looked straight out of cottage core painting. She slipped on some brown leather heeled sandals paired with a matching satchel and headed out of her apartment. The farmers market was always full of life and new interesting things each time she went. She heard chatter and laughter from every direction, smelled amazing food and heard someone playing a bright yet melancholy song on the piano in the distance. She stood for a moment in time until her trance was broken by a raspy accented voice beside her. “Hello there!” A small older woman grinned at her from behind a table. Her small stall was full of homemade soaps, perfumes, bath bombs and essential oils. Scarlett smiled at her, strolling to the table and looking it over. Sitting on the table was a small sample bottle labeled “Soirée”. She sprayed the sample on her wrist and was immediately surprised at where it took her mind. It smelled like raspberry, vanilla, and being love drunk all in one bottle. “Looking for love?” The small woman cooed at her still grinning. “Um, not quite.” Scarlett said hastily. “Well, buy that and it will hit you like a train.” She said cackling. “For you, I will sell it for $25.” Scarlett pulled out her wallet and bought some huckleberry soap along with the perfume. “Thank you.” She said about to walk away. The old lady laughed again. “Godspeed.” The lady exclaimed while smirking back. Scarlett walked quickly, thinking about how odd that encounter was. She has met many self proclaimed fortune tellers and witches in San Francisco, but that lady's energy just seemed different. It felt like she knew something she didn’t, and it put her slightly on edge.