Title: Dark Notes
Disclaimer: Could only wish the characters belonged to me, but alas, they do not.
Storyline: AU – Callie and Arizona, as strangers, slowly weave a life together; but the journey could be darker than either of them imagined.
Rating: M – this fic will contain mature themes, concepts and scenes. This may include consensual sex scenes, swear words, violence, drug/alcohol use and misuse.
Author's Note: Each chapter title is the title of a song (of which the title, though not the song, will relate to the chapter). You're welcome to guess the song writer/band/performer (google only cheats yourself!) if you like, but I'll be posting a list at the end of this fic of each one and which version or cover I was referring to.
Part One: Little Talks
January 30th, 2014
I see
And I taste
As if you were real
And no where
Shall
My fingers be idle
When I ponder you
Whoever you
May be
A fucking door chime, is the first thought that crossed Callie's mind as she entered the recently opened café on the corner of James and Kent. It was the first time she'd been out of her apartment in two weeks and there was a door chime. She almost took a few swift steps backwards but a towering body behind her coughed his irritation.
She could almost feel the spray of sputum on her neck and physically shuddered, making a hasty run for a corner table, right at the back of the narrow café. Dumping two A5 notebooks on the table, she turned back towards the counter, eyes scanning a blackboard on the wall. Fluorescent yellows and pinks detailed a drinks menu, all the usual suspects, coffee denominations of all kinds and some weird combinations of freshly made organic vegetable juices.
Blue eyes peaked out from behind the coffee machine, blond hair slightly obscured by tall columns of disposable coffee containers. A quick assessment that her patron wasn't ready to order and she disappeared again, focussed on trying to clean the steam arm. "Give me a yell when you're ready to order."
Pouting, Callie wandered her gaze to the glass cabinet to the side of the counter; nothing but carbohydrate free salads, pumpkin slices and free range frittatas. Oh, and sweets to cater to every dietary intolerance that didn't exist a century ago. "Lucky I'm not allergic to air, huh," she joked, tugging at the satchel across her chest; the material twisted and stretched and a few more frayed edges tore and untangled. She was convinced it would last at least another year.
"Lucky." The blue eyes locked on hers again and the most tolerable grin absorbed her sarcasm. "Can't interest you in a gluten free spinach and goats' cheese muffin then?" She was deliberately goading, assessing the derelict looking woman with blood shot eyes that seemed intent on standing at her counter without ordering a thing.
"Just a coffee."
"Organic okay with you?"
"What the fuck is this place? Greenpeace?"
"Fuck no." They both laughed, though it quickly fell away and a middle aged woman returned a bottle of water to the fridge and stomped out the door. "Whoops."
"Prude. Well, given I'm desperate for coffee, I would like to order your largest organic latte please, one sugar."
"You sure you don't want Stevia? It's better for you."
Ready to release another round of explosive language, she found a bemused expression emanating from behind the cash register. Pale lips had been drawn into her mouth and two deep dimples creased both cheeks. "Sorry. The regulars are starting to get used to my humour. I'm Arizona by the way, and thanks for trying out my new venture."
"I'll hold judgement until the coffee."
"Giant latte, one sugar, got it. Take a seat and I'll bring it over; sorry, I didn't catch your name, you are?"
Turning, Callie ducked her head to slide the strap of her bag over her head, a long tumble of wavy dark hair falling down her back as an old rubber band pseudo hair tie caught and snapped. Glancing over her shoulder, she shrugged. "Not a regular yet."
"Fair enough," Arizona muttered, filling the portafilter with ground coffee and compressing it. She locked it into the group head and pressed a black button, pouring milk into a stainless steel jug. She liked the sound that the air made, whistling out and into the milk, aerating and heating it. It gave her a sense of accomplishment, as if she knew exactly what the outcome would be if she held it in place. It was predictable; satisfyingly predictable.
Sticking her tongue out, Arizona intently poured the milk into the wide mug, deciding on a simple leaf design rather than anything too ambitious. She was improving, but still, her more complicated latte art was a little sporadic in its success.
She had a photo in her apartment, of a perfect solar system that she had managed to master once, a few weeks before. It had a planet and orbit, a range of stars. She was yet to be able to repeat it though. The photo was on her fridge, held there with two small magnets, probably where she should have images of children or pets, foreign cities perhaps. But she had a cup of coffee.
Mildly ridiculous.
Resting a spoon on the side of the saucer, Arizona placed a sachet of raw sugar on top and served the drink, quietly sliding it on to the table. "Double shot latte, I make it in a mug, I hope that's okay."
Callie leant back, bag discarded to the floor and both notebooks on her lap. The oversized v-neck tee that she wore tugged down over her breasts, slightly see through from years of wear. "Bigger the better, thanks."
"Can I get you anything else?"
Shaking her head, Callie smoothed her hand over the small table. "Nice idea, on the tables. I haven't seen it anywhere else."
"Oh really? I saw it once, and liked it. It was easy to do really, people are always getting rid of old coffee machines so I took them off their hands and just had a piece of wood secured to the top. Pretty easy."
"Creative."
Arizona laughed. "I would like to say it was more unique and difficult, but it really wasn't. Kind of good for these quiet corners though."
"And you advertise stuff here?" Callie asked randomly.
"What do you mean?"
"The posters, art shows and gigs."
Arizona nodded slowly, casting her eyes up and along the walls, covered in various posters promoting local events or tours. She wiped her hands on the black apron she wore, folded and tied at her waist. "Yeah, that's the goal. Just a place for anyone to add to, there're some good bands. Local too."
Scoffing, Callie took a sip of her coffee. "Yeah, I see."
Pausing as if expecting her customer to continue, Arizona stepped away when the simple conversation was abruptly ended. Callie disengaged as if almost disinterested, twirling a pencil in her fingers and simultaneously sipping her coffee.
At least in this line of work, Arizona figured, she didn't have to work with people's craziness; she didn't have to manage it.
She just had to serve it.
A quick scan around the sedate atmosphere, and Arizona slunk back against the dishwasher and drew in a slow breath. She had almost survived her second week in the business and every so gradually, the numbers were crawling in. Morning was the most hectic, which was exactly why she had chosen the space that she did. The café was right on an intersection, and there were two major bus routes with stops almost outside of her door. One headed into the city centre and the other to a cultural precinct, full of restaurants and galleries. So she caught the mass of bleary eyed commuters, each seeking a caffeine hit to get their day started.
Later in the day she seemed to attract a more casual crowd, single patrons that settled in to one of her comfy chairs or single recliners, a novel in their hand or laptop in front of them. The kind of people that sat around for hours and ordered consecutive coffees before losing their resolve and indulging in something sweet.
Someone like the dark haired woman that had insulted her food options before slouching barely moving over a notebook, pen poised and occasionally scribbling. She was on to her second coffee and had even cracked a small smile as she had ordered it, though it had been fleeting.
Sighing, Arizona shook her head and focussed on the few pages of paper in her hand.
She couldn't spend all day thinking about every attractive woman that ordered from her. In fact, the thought hadn't even crossed her mind before she opened her doors; it was a fairly pleasant surprise, the number of incredibly hot women that would unabashedly flirt with her. Not that this customer had, she seemed positively disinterested in fact; oblivious probably, to the effortless hotness that emanated from her. Despite the one size too big jeans and not quite matching flip flops that would be more at place on a beach than a Seattle Café. Ironically, she was exactly the kind of patronage Arizona had been aiming for, the unique, non conformist, arty type.
Anything but the arrogant, elitist fucks she had been working for years with, catering to their every whim for the greater goal. God, she had put up with a lot.
Rubbing the bridge of her nose, Arizona scanned the paperwork; it was the final contract with her coffee supplier. She could still hardly believe that it was her name on the lines, Arizona Robbins, Proprietor.
How the hell did that happen?
She still felt the swell of anxiety in her gut when she thought about opening her doors ten days before, and she wasn't sure she had ever been so nervous. For years, she had spoken in front of hundreds of people, done media work and hired and fired like she was breathing air. And not once had she felt nauseously ill.
A year; she could sign a year long commitment to order fair trade, organic, Guatemalan coffee beans from Atlas Coffee.
It really wasn't that long.
Scribbling her signature messily along the bottom line, she tossed it across to land on top of the microwave and scanned the room again. All was still calm.
Sliding the glass display cabinet door open, she used a pair of silver tongs to place a rectangular piece of slice on a plate. Swirling a spread of chocolate sauce over the remainder of the plate, she added two cut strawberries and wiped her hands. She cocked her head and smiled, if only she could see her now.
Before she could give it a second thought, Arizona palmed the plate and slipped out from behind the counter, approaching the woman whom she was attempting not to fantasise about taking into the restroom and devouring. She cleared her throat at the image. "On the house," she said, raising her eyebrows briefly, "because everyone needs to try my gluten free, dairy free and sugar free brownie."
Curling her two index fingers back into her hands, Callie glanced up, mind somewhere between the beat she had been making on the table and the blue eyes that bore into her cloudy bloodshot ones. "Only if it's organic."
Arizona laughed and shrugged.
"Does it really taste good?"
"Of course, would I serve it if it didn't?"
Callie looked perplexed. "I wouldn't have a clue, possibly."
"Well, I'm keen to stay in business and not run people out of here, so I try to have options that actually taste awesome."
"You seem to be getting numbers through the door."
"Yeah," Arizona agreed, glancing at the couple of people remaining before she closed the doors for the day, "it's doing okay considering I only just opened."
"You know," Callie said, taking the proffered plate finally, "it's my birthday today, so thank you."
Arizona's mouth fell open before she shook her head. "Bull shit."
"No, seriously," Callie insisted, "it is. Sad right, that this is probably the extent of any celebrations I will have?"
"Well then, you really deserved that. It's good, honestly." Arizona indicated to the plate, cocking her head as if waiting for the first bite.
Callie indulged, taking a piece with her fork and sweeping it through the chocolate sauce. She chewed quickly, licking her lips. "Hum hmm, definitely birthday material. Thanks, Arizona, but I should pay you for it."
"Oh no, it's on me. All birthday girls deserve chocolate cake."
Callie nodded slowly, relieved that her offer wasn't accepted. She had been counting coins in the bottom of her bag just to afford her coffees. Not quite picking lint off pennies, but not far off. "That probably means I'll end up a regular then, given I live up the road. So, I guess you can call me Callie."
Arizona chuckled lightly and earned a tired look in return. "I can call you that or that's your name?" She perceptively noticed a tinge of pink on Callie's cheeks.
"Ohh, it's my name."
"I'm just teasing."
"You seem to have a habit of doing that, am I an easy target?"
Arizona stepped back, smiling. "Sorry, character flaw. Enjoy your chocolate goodness and I hope your birthday improves."
Expression falling, Callie glanced back to her notebook. "Thanks," she murmured, taking another large bite of brownie and seeming to shrink away from Arizona. Her shoulders curved more and she slumped, tucking her chin down towards her chest.
Ten minutes later, when Arizona looked over from where she had just finished serving a customer, Callie was gone.
Out the back of the café, Arizona had divided the kitchen to create a small space; a single bed, a desk and computer and a few shelves of books, magazines and a music dock. Her timeout space given she was spending most of her waking hours working for the moment. She figured it was design brilliance, a little lockable escape when she had enough competent staff to trust in running the café front. But close enough that she could easily reappear and fix whatever crises they had failed to manage; people were inherently incompetent. Always.
It was, a home away from home; a little something to keep her sane.
And at that moment, sun setting out the small window, she needed a little something. And it came in the way of a wide glass filled with crimson liquid. It was the most delicious Merlot in existence; one that smoothly covered her tongue and slid warmly down her throat. She exhaled, kicking her sensible shoes off and stretching her sock covered feet out along the mattress. She couldn't quite remember wearing flats for so many days in a row, but her toes were certainly grateful. Wearing heels like she was used to would be suicide standing all day, rushing between the register, tables and kitchen.
Rolling her shoulders and hips, she leant back against the pillow, where it was positioned to stretch lengthwise along the wall and took another few hasty mouthfuls of wine.
She closed her eyes and exhaled.
Repeatedly.
Snaking one hand down her sternum, she didn't bother stopping at the metal clasp of her black trousers. Her fingers disappeared beneath the waistband and into her underwear, pants tight against her wrist.
Her middle finger pooled a small gathering of fluid and she spread it along the length of herself.
Within minutes, her breathing was heavy and mouth ajar, eyes lolling at will as she simply worked her way to a rapid climax. Complete with wine glass still gripped in her spare hand and primal grunts, she finished with an ineloquent gasped fuck.
Yes, she figured, the café really was great for masturbation material and Callie, well Callie was the best yet.
TBC…