Carver Cafe Novels & Stories

If they ever made a car air freshener in that scent, I would be the first in line at the hardware store. I breathed a deep sigh of relief as I walked through the carved wooden door, an electric version of “Ode to Joy” ringing out at me to find that this was still the case. I hadn't gone off the smell of unbrewed coffee like I had freshly baked cinnamon rolls. There were those as well at the cafe but encased safely behind a thick pane of glass in the display counter. “What can I get you?” asked the perky college girl in the garish violet polo shirt, as though filling my order would genuinely be the highlight of her day.

She woke midday to the taste of wood-smoke and yeasted air and a wet ache in the joints of her hand. Mira had stacked the day’s orders in a ledger so neat even the inspectors would have wept for shame, and the twins had not only cleaned the dough hook but polished the base so hard the reflection warped. The first customer was the red-haired carrier from the southern post, carrying a basket of mail and a rumor: three blocks east, a cafe had been raided in the night. No charges, but a warning painted in neon on the glass: OBEY.

“Coffee sound good? I was thinking Lucy’s Cafe.” “Coffee sound’s perfect.” I nodded and climbed into the car. He shut the door, rounded the car, and climbed into the driver’s seat. The drive to the coffee shop was quiet, but short. Lucy’s Cafe was on the main street before Cravenmore, a little brick building with large windows, already lit up golden and smelling like fresh baked pastries inside. Damon parked on the street, opened my door for me, and held my hand as we headed in. “Get whatever you want,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “You barely ate last night. You need to keep your strength up.”

My little angels’ carefree chatter brightened my day. I was so busy planning their future that I totally disregarded Carver’s presence in my house. He registered his presence by offering me a cup of black coffee and poked my nose playfully. “As I have saved you from Alpha Zayden, how are you going to repay me?” I wasn’t in the mode of playing a guessing game, so I asked him directly. “What do you want?” Carver leaned in and whispered in my ears. “I would like to taste you, love.”

Maybe, those were owned by the elite members of this pack. End of Pov -**- For about forty five minutes onwards, the SUV car was parked on the lot, joining the other vehicles with various brands. In front of the pretty large parking area, the two-floor coffee shop building was situated. The aesthetic designed board entitled 'Now or Never Coffee' being pasted on the centre on its roof. "Welcome to Now or Never Coffee. Here is our menu book to take a look," A young man in his twenties with black uniform covered by maroon apron uttered while giving the menu books to Margie and Jessie.

I said quietly, but at the back of my mind I couldn't help but find that statement a little strange. “Alright, kiddo. Try to get some rest after work, yeah?” “I will. Thanks, Dad.” As the call ended, I exhaled, feeling both comforted and heavier somehow. I made my way inside the cafe, and looked around. Trevor didn't seem to be anywhere around. I smiled at Caroline who had just come out from the back carrying a couple of latte cups. “Good morning. Is the boss around?” I asked “Oh, he was, but he stepped out. Said he'll be back at noon.”

Like we’re running out of time for something. I step out of the company building, jacket already over my shoulder, loosened tie hanging against my chest. The heat isn’t helping. The moment I enter the backseat of my car, I exhale deeply and let my head fall back. I tell the driver to take me to Vespero's, the exclusive café by the waterfront where only men like me, or men trying to become like me, gather to talk power over pastries and bitter coffee.

The morning light streamed through the tinted windows of Leo Carver’s car, slicing gold across the leather seats. The city unfurled outside in a blur of steel and glass — his domain, his kingdom. Beside him, Liana sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, gaze lost in the skyline. She didn’t ask where they were going until the car turned into the private underground entrance of Carver Tower — the headquarters of the Carver empire. “You didn’t tell me we were going to your office,” she said softly.

In front of the café, a signage with the drawing of a smiling cauldron was carved on a golden plate adorned with cobwebs. Matilda swallowed the cupcake in one go; her face which almost lost its flesh showed how her still-intact teeth munched down the velvet pastry down to her bony throat. “I miss having you here, girlie. I wanted to show you this place, but the next thing I knew, you went into vacation with your d-i-l-f.”

It's getting harder for her to carry. After two minutes, The café’s wooden door creaks open as Carol steps in, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and baked pastries wrapping around her like a comforting blanket. It’s been weeks since she last felt anything close to comfort, but this place is her refuge from the empty house, from the memories, from the ache that gnaws at her insides. She keeps her eyes low, avoiding the friendly wave from the barista, who always tries to talk to her. It’s pointless. The world’s noise has long since been muted for her.