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I’m coming for you Little Flower. Whether you want me or not, because I’ll be fucked if I let you go again.
CHAPTER TEN
Wakingupthefollowingmorning proves to be a more difficult task than I had bargained for. Rolling over, I slap the snooze button on my phone for the fourth time and let out a loud groan. I'm not even in my thirties yet and I already feel like I'm knocking on death's doorstep after a night of drinking. Admittedly heavy drinking but dang, it's not like I blacked out and got a tattoo or hooked up with someone.
Sitting up, I do a quick inventory of my bed and then my room. Empty. Good. See, I was good.No wild drunken mistakes, just a hangover from hell that I'll be paying for all day long. Sighing, I scrub my hands over my face and try to force myself to wake up.
What was I thinking going out on a work night? Today may be my Friday, but I still have to give the illusion of being both an adult and a boss. It would be one thing if I worked an office job where I could at least sit and pretend to recover, or maybe a nice nine to five, but no. I had to be the crazy person who went and opened up a coffee shop with hours that I regret regularly. Often at 5:00 am when I'm trying to convince myself that I love what I do and that being a business owner is worth it.
Owning a business is extremely hard work but owning a business that revolves around dealing with peoplebeforethey've had their morning coffee is just plain masochism. The thought of angry customers lining up outside of my unopened shop, caffeine-deprived, and pissed off has me springing into action.
The first step out of my bed makes my head spin. The second has my knees popping and back cracking. I swear, I went to bed 28-years-old and woke up 62. Groaning, I stretch my body, waking my limbs up as I head toward the bathroom. I squeeze my eyes shut in preparation for the burning of a thousand suns my retinas are about to endure before I flick on the bathroom light. It penetrates through my closed lids, and I curse my sister internally for forcing me to go out last night.
Okay, that's not exactly true, but I did originally only sign up for a nice, calm, and classy meal with a side of cocktails. Not reliving the past both painfully and emotionally which in turn pushed me to drink in excess. Regardless, I choose to blame her at this moment, until I'm ready to deal with reality.
I take care of business and rush through a steaming hot shower, finishing off with a spray of ice-cold water to really wake my ass up. It's effective and I let out a scream into my silent, empty apartment that's so loud, I'm sure the store beneath my loft can hear me. I quickly get ready for my day, applying enough makeup to remind me that I'm still young and distract from my dark, puffy eyes. My violet hair gets parted into two Dutch braid pigtails and I call it good enough.
While I love wearing form-fitting and slightly revealing clothing when I go out on the town, I've learned over the last year that things like that are just not feasible when working in a coffee shop. Not only do customers ogle to the point that they forget all about the reason they even came in, but I spill hot coffee, milk, tea, and other fluids so frequently, that I ruin damn near everything I wear. After three tops and a pair of my favorite jeans were destroyed, I ended up buying a whole new work-safe wardrobe.
I've learned that wearing all black hides stains better than anything else and somehow still looks professional, so it's become my unofficial uniform. Sliding on a pair of stretchy black leggings, I pair it with one of my custom-made shirts with my shop's name printed across the chest in pink letters with emerald palm leaves surrounding it. I toss on a black zip-up hoodie with our logo over the left breast before pulling my Nikes on. Another lesson I learned the hard way. I'm on my feet all day, standing and even running sometimes, and comfort is far more important than fashion.
With one last look in the mirror, I smile, happy with the way I was able to pull myself together so quickly. I may be dead ass tired, but I look cute and it makes me feel better. I glance down at my watch and curse when I see it's already almost 6, which is the time I'm supposed to open. The girls will be waiting for me at this rate. I grab my phone, purse, and keys as I quickly shut everything down in the house before dashing out.
Most people in New York don't drive, rather opting for public transportation and taxi's, but I've never felt comfortable with that. Not the public transportation bit, but the fact that I'm a female in SoHo who leaves for work while it's still dark outside and generally returns when it's once again dark. Having my own car makes me feel safe and in control, even if traffic makes me want to scream sometimes.
Climbing into my pink two-door Mini Cooper convertible, I let out a chuckle. I'm still getting used to driving the adorable little thing. My car was a gift to myself last month to celebrate a year of owning the coffee shop. It has the logo in white across the sides with green palm leaves to match the aesthetic of the shop. Lily, Remi, and Poppy all convinced me to get it and by putting the business same on the side, I'm able to use it as a tax write-off, so score. It's tiny, and fits into any and all spots in the city which for me was the major selling point.
Sacred Groundsis a coffee shop that is now in the process of being converted into a cafe. It's bright, bold, beautiful, and my baby. The two things I love most in my life, that bring me the most gratification is writing/reading and owningSacred Grounds. I love every single part of being the mama to that business. I love the customers, the smell, the feeling of being there, and connecting with people day in and day out. Nothing beats it.
I don't know exactly where the inspiration for the shop came from. I grew up in a wealthy, conservative family in Virginia. My father, the long-term Governor, was extremely strict. My mother was constantly high on uppers and hanging out with other rich housewives. My sisters, and I essentially raised ourselves and despite the type of upbringing we had, we all forged our own paths that are completely different from that of our childhoods. The fact that I own something aslowlyas a coffeehouse is undoubtedly looked down upon by my parents.
Personally, I can’t find a single fuck to give so their opinion truly doesn't matter. If anything, the fact that they despise it so much only makes me happier. I used to hate my parents. Genuinelyloathethem. But now? Now I simply just don't care enough about them or their lives to have room in my heart for hate. Still, that doesn't mean I want to be anything like them.
Less than ten minutes later, I'm pulling into the parking lot of the business across the street from my shop. The little Greek restaurant does pretty well for itself and the owners, a sweet elderly couple, have become like my pseudo-grandparents. Neither of them owns cars so they've designated a spot for me in their parking lot since my shop only has street parking. In return, I eat at their restaurant a few times a week and tell all of my customers to check them out. I'd do it even if they didn't let me use their lot, their food is that incredible.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, I pause, taking a moment to enjoy the sight of the place that I love so dearly. The place that I worked my ass off to create. Dreams are constantly evolving, shifting, and changing. But those who stick with it, dig deep, striving to make their dreams a reality, that is where true success lies. Even when it's hard, even when you want to give up, you push through and make your deepest, most heartfelt desires a reality.
It took me a long time to learn that lesson, but now that I have, I'm hellbent on making my dreams come true. One of those dreams isSacred Grounds.
As I take in the old building front that's been refurbished just enough to keep it safe while still allowing the vintage 1920s charm to shine, my breath hitches. I searched high and low for this building, and I do meanthisone. Not only is it exactly what I was looking for, but when I walked into it the first time, I just knew. The boutique-style building is nestled in between a stunning marble art-deco bank from the same era, and another refurbished store that is similar in appearance to mine.
The façade is mostly all antique windows encased by iron and beautifully carved wooden frames. The glass double door entryway matches the windows which were one of the things that I replaced, for economical as well as safety reasons. There are two display windows on each side of the doors that are over 12 feet in height. Two large ornate wooden pillars frame the double doors. A stunning wooden ornate molding sits beneath the windows and spans the entire front of the shop, except for where the door is. All of the wood and iron elements were repaired and restored before receiving a facelift with sleek white paint, allowing the bright interior colors to really pop, even from the street.
One of my favorite parts of the outside is all of the original brass hardware that is polished to perfection and reflects off the bright sun all day long. The other is the pink and emerald striped awning over the top of the entryway. The name,Sacred Grounds,in gold wooden letters right above it. Two spiraled topiaries sit in black ceramic pots on either side of the doors, giving the exterior a pop of color and tying into the pink and green theme inside.
As of right now, I don't have any furniture outside but once the conversion from simple coffee shop to full-blown cafe is completed, I'm going to add gold iron bistro sets along the front of the building for customers to enjoy their treats outside.
Grinning from ear to ear, I dash across the mostly empty street, pulling my shop keys out as I go. There are already a few of my regulars milling about outside and it makes me unbelievably grateful that Poppy had the idea for me to hire a few employees to do the pre-opening routine so everything is set by the time I arrive.
Look, I'm willing to work all day, put in the hours, but I am not a morning person. As soon as the shop was turning a profit, I hired an amazing team and a few of them are exceptionally chipper and volunteered for the 4:00 am shift.
More power to them, I say.
Smiling at a haggard-looking Sophie, one of my daily customers, I hold the door open and wave her through, offering her a 'good morning' as she goes. Justin and his husband Laurence walk through next, both smiling softly, but saying nothing. I follow the three coffee-deprived customers in, waving at Kala and Kai as they start taking orders, bless their souls.
Kala and Kai are twin sisters who were born and raised in Hawaii but moved here a few years ago to pursue careers that are better suited for big city living. Kala wants to be an actress and singer, performing on Broadway. Kai is an artist with hopes of opening her own art studio eventually. Both girls needed to earn an income while still being able to work on their goals as much as possible and taking the early morning shift here helps them achieve that. I adore them both and would be lost without them, but I want them to reach their goals and I would do anything in my power to help them do so.
Quickly, I head to my office to stash my belongings away. I slip my phone into the side pocket in my leggings, toss my hoodie onto the desk and tie my apron. Before stepping out, I pause as a wave of sorry tinged with irritation washes over me.
