Some people are morning people, in that they spring out of bed in the morning, feeling refreshed and energised every day. Others are night owls, who experience getting out of bed as being the most gargantuan task of their day, but later, could stay up until the early hours without as much as a single yawn or bleary eye. Alfred Jones fits neither category. He rises with the sun (before it, in the winter months) and could probably keep going until it next rose, if Matthew allowed him.
The boundless energy served him well in school, enabling him to socialise frequently, study for tests and finals, and even participate in a few of the sports teams. He could have picked virtually any university in the world, and any major he desired; his father was determined to frame the M.I.T. acceptance letter. That was, until Alfred turned it down. A mailbox packed with acceptance letters, and he turned down each one.
What Alfred liked was making people happy, and he couldn't do that on a first person basis as an engineer, or a chemist. He could do it, however, in a coffee shop.
After graduating, Alfred and his step brother moved into a small bit comfortable apartment together. Matthew took a creative writing course at the community college, alongside part-time work at a convenience store, while Alfred got a job at a small, independent coffee shop.
The Tulip Garden was a rather cute cafe. The window frames, sign over the door, and the door itself, were all painted in a pastel orange, while each round table indoors had a small vase in the center, holding a few tulips which were freshly picked from the window boxes. Alfred has worked there for around a year, alongside a timid man who could brew the world's best cup of coffee, and under the quiet glare of an exceptionally tall man, with exceptionally tall hair, who carried a constant underlying scent of marijuana smoke. And it is here that our story begins, and a new chapter in the life of Alfred F. Jones opens with a piece of paper on a window, and a mysteriously acquired piano.
Two blond, bespectacled men walked down the street. One carried a satchel, and was a little sluggish in his movements, a yawn escaping as a visible wisp in the crisp morning air. Alfred had a skip in his step, almost slipping on the frosty ground, only to recover, not even missing a beat as he reeled off each and every detail of the following years most anticipated movies. Matthew nodded in an uncommitted manner, his hands thrust into the pockets of his blue hoodie. He was desperate to reach the coffee shop for his morning revival, then he might actually listen to Alfred's ceaseless chatter. Matthew glanced up from the ground for a moment, and saw his breath release as a sigh of relief at the sight of the orange shop right ahead. About half way through an overly long account of his hopes for Captain America 2, Alfred stopped talking. The sudden silence drew Matthew's attention as they drew to a stop outside the coffee shop.
"What's up?" He asked, stifling another yawn in the sleeve of his hoodie. Alfred nodded at the shop window, and Matthew looked up, noticing a 'Help Wanted' sign.
"Am I being fired?" Alfred panicked. "I am, aren't I? Have I passed my free coffee limit again? Was it for flirting with the boss's sister? I can't help if he's got a cute sister, I mean, did you see her Matt? Oh, or maybe it's beca-"
"Alfred," Matthew grimaced. "The job isn't even yours. It's for a pianist." He tapped a gloved finger to the finer details of the sign, prompting the other to read it.
"Oh. Wait, a pianist? We don't have a piano... Well, something's up anyway," the younger of the siblings insisted, pushing up his glasses. "The shop's all lit up inside, but I'm meant to be opening it today." He took a set of keys from the pocket of his signature bomber jacket, as if to prove a point. Matthew only shrugged.
"Lars wanted to open early? Had something to take care of?" Alfred ignored his brother's reasonable suggestions, and went with his own suspicions that there was a burglar, or a murderer, or some other kind of criminal in the shop, and he'd have to be the hero to bring them to justice. He tried the door, only to find it was locked. He put the keys to use, and let himself in, beckoning for Matthew to follow. Matthew trudged inside, his brow furrowing as he heard scraping noises from an unseen part of the cafe. The sitting area was in an 'L' shape, with a part of the area invisible from the door. Silently, Matthew closed the door, as Alfred picked up a chair, holding it by the backrest. He cautiously approached the source of the noise, leaving Matthew to stand by the door, watching his brother draw closer and closer, until he was almost level with the area.
"GOTCHA, YOU BURGLAR!" Alfred cried as he leapt around the corner, and lunged forward. Seconds later, there was the sound of what Matthew suspected to be a wooden chair clattering onto a hardwood floor, followed by a surprisingly high pitched 'sorry' from Alfred. Matthew wandered over to the back, and smiled up at Lars, who was towering over an extremely apologetic Alfred. Sure enough, an upright piano was behind him, against the wall.
"Quit apologising," he ordered gruffly. "Make your brother some coffee. On the house." The owner of the small shop gave Matthew a nod, and what could have been a smile, but was more than likely a twitch of his mouth, expressing his need for another cigarette.
"Sure thing, Lars," Alfred nodded, going to the counter, and vaulting over it with the ability - but not the grace - of a gymnast. Matthew sat at the table nearest the counter, his usual table, and put his satchel onto his lap, opening it, and pulling out a netbook, which he placed on the desk, waiting for it to start up as Alfred made his coffee. "Hey, Lars?" Alfred called as he started up the coffee machine. "Where did you get the piano?" There was a moment of silent in which the only noise was the electronic grinding of coffee beans, before the deep, heavily accented voice called back with an answer.
"Do I ask you where you got your glasses?" Alfred looked at Matthew in confusion.
"Uh, no... Do you want me to tell you?"
"No. I stay out of other people's business, and so should you."
And that was that.
Six hours into an eight hour shift. Nine coffees, most of them after Toris showed up, because Toris made them better than he ever could. It was a slow day, so slow that Toris had taken a chair behind the counter to read a book he was about three quarters of the way through, and Alfred had perched himself upon the counter with his DS to play Pokemon. The gentle green eyes of Toris Laurinaitis rose from his book to examine the piano in the corner.
"Lars is hoping to bring in more business, I assume?" The man asked, his soft voice laced with a heavy tiredness that seemed ever present.
"I guess," Alfred shrugged. "Bit of live music would liven the place up." Toris hummed in agreement, adjusting the bobble that held back his shoulder length hair, and then quickly brushed his fringe from out of his eyes.
"Can you play?" Alfred looked up from the game, and shook his head.
"No, you?"
"Only a little. Coffee?"
"Sure. Vanilla latte."
Toris made their coffees, and quite some time went by before they were both shocked by the tinkle of a bell, signalling that the door was open. Toris quickly stowed his book under the counter, as Alfred leapt off the counter, shoving the handheld console into his apron pocket. At least they tried to look professional. Alfred gave the customer a huge grin as she approached the counter, as he did with all customers. He wasn't smiling because she was gorgeous, not at all. Certainly not an extra large smile just for her, no. And he definitely wasn't feeling butterflies in his stomach. Such a notion was laughable.
It was in that moment that Alfred realised that he'd been standing, grinning at her like an idiot for about five minutes. Okay, maybe 10 or 15 seconds at the most, but it felt like much longer. The dark haired woman cleared her throat a little, and glanced at Toris, who was really enjoying this too much.
"S-sorry, ma'am," Alfred laughed awkwardly. "Uh, what can I get for you?" The woman's lips pursed, drawing Alfred's attention to the way they pouted, and a cute little mole at the corner of those pink lips.
"I saw the sign in the window. Requiring a pianist?" She spoke in an almost melodic accent, which worked curiously well with the slight huskiness of her voice. Alfred wondered for a brief second whether or not this mysterious, musical woman had any flaws at all.
"Oh? Uh, my boss is out right now, but I could pass your resume to him?"
"Would you mind playing for us?" Toris offered kindly. "And we will pass word of your skills to the employer." The woman nodded, and walked to the back of the room, short heels clicking on the floor. She sat down at the piano gracefully, opened the lid, and then, she began to play.
A melody like none Alfred had ever heard before flowed from her fingertips. Arpeggios and crescendos waltzed hand in hand the through the cafe, dancing to the breathtaking music the nameless woman gifted unto the world like a blessing from the heavens. Throughout her piece, Alfred never looked away from her, noting the way her body swayed ever so slightly with the music. He was utterly enchanted by her, and her music. His heart sank a little when her talented fingers brought the melody to a cadence. The final note hung in the air, ringing out it's last breath. Silence fell. A stunned silence, broken by a light applause, which Toris soon joined.
The woman stood, and walked back to the counter, her formerly stoic face bearing a small but sweet smile.
"I did well, then?" She asked, tucking a dark brown lock of hair behind her ear.
"I think you got the job,"Alfred nodded. "That was... spectacular." How he managed those two sentences in his awestruck state was an unknown miracle.
"We'll pass your details to our boss," Toris smiled, passing her a post-it notepad, and a pen. "Just write your name and phone number, and I'll put it on his desk." Alfred watched with wonder and curiosity as she wrote her name in elegant script. Sophia. Sophia Edelstein. His smile crept back as he repeated the name over and over in his mind, registering it in his memory so that he would not forget a single thing about this woman. After handing the notepad and pen back to Toris, she was gone as quickly as she had arrived.
"Sophia, hm?" Toris murmured to himself, reading the notepad.
"Gorgeous, isn't she?" Alfred sighed, still staring at the door. Toris chuckled softly.
"Yes, but I wouldn't waste my time, if I were you." Alfred's brow furrowed.
"Why not?"
"Lars has that little rule; no dating other employees."
"Oh. Shit." Toris peeled the post-it note from the pad, and took it to the office, pausing before he went through the door.
"She's not an employee yet, you know," the barista shrugged, glancing slyly at his co-worker, who bore a clueless expression. Toris rolled his eyes. "Date her before he employs her. Go after her!"
Alfred stared at Toris for a moment, as though the elder man was a genius, before he grabbed his coat, and vaulted over the counter, taking off after her.