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"That bloke is back," Nina noted as she peered through the window, the dirty table in front of her all but forgotten.
Alice, her barista, just blinked at her and she realised she could be a bit more descriptive. "You know the one that looks like trouble on legs? With the face tattoo?" Alice just kept staring at her. "The one that keeps hanging around Mr. Lemon Cake like a bad smell."
She didn't know how much more clear she could be. Thankfully, that did it. Alice smirked. "Yeah, he's been coming around almost every day now."
Nina searched through her limited memory of her neighbours. He had, hadn't he? She had seen him walk around the bookshop like he bloody owned that place more times than she could remember. Which, again, for someone who didn't keep a close eye on the people around her was not saying much. But still.
"Do you think he is up to something then?" she asked, despite herself. Mr. Fell had been one of the first to welcome her to the neighbourhood and he had taken to visiting her almost daily. Always for a slice of lemon cake, sometimes for a spot of tea as well. She had no idea what a nice man like him was doing with an almost surely a member of the mafia.
Alice abandoned the cups she was washing and came to stand beside her. Together, they watched as the bloke sauntered towards the bookshop and slung the door open. At 9pm. On a Sunday. When the establishment had been closed for the good half of a day now. And Nina was pretty sure the door had remained locked the whole day.
Alice snorted, picked up the rag Nina had abandoned and started cleaning the table. "He is up to something, alright."
Nina felt her heart sink. "That poor man."
She only hoped it wasn't anything sinister, like blackmail or extortion. She knew Mr. Fell was rich, everyone did. And way too nice for his own good. A man like that, well, he would make the perfect target for someone unscrupulous.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure Mr. Fell likes it." Alice winked at her, but quickly giggled when Nina just raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you seen the way he stares at that man? Like he quite literally hung the stars. Actually besotted."
That... that somehow made it worse. It was one thing for Mr. Lemon Cake to be dealing with shady individuals in the business sense. She wasn't stupid, she knew that bookshop made no money whatsoever. She had never seen a single person leave, carrying a book, not the mention the fact it was hardly ever open. Nina would never judge, of course. Not in this economy. One did what one must during the current cost of living crisis.
But for that sweet man to go and fall for a mafia grunt? Even Nina was able to recognise it as a stupid decision. Not that she had any right to judge of course, given the situations she kept finding herself in with her on-again, off-again partner, Lindsay.
Still, she decided she had to do something about it.
The opportunity presented itself sooner than she had expected. Unfortunately, as much as she itched to say something, she still hadn't decided on an appropriate course of action.
She settled on glaring.
It didn't seem to bother Mr. Face Tattoo. He wasn't even looking at her as he ordered, "Chamomile tea and a slice of your lemon cake."
She waited for his own order to follow, as she knew this one was Mr. Fell's. Surely, he hadn't come over just to get a cake and a drink for his business associate? When the man didn't say anything, refused to even stop looking out the window and at the bookshop, even though it was basic decency to look at the people you were talking to... Well, what could she do? She set out to prepare the order.
Only to realise they were out of lemon cake.
"Oh..."
And she didn't like the man, would have been happy to deny him the food if she thought it was for himself. But poor Mr. Fell really enjoyed that cake. She racked her brain for what else she could offer.
Mr. Face Tattoo finally turned to look at her, glanced at the display where the cake usually sat, now sadly empty. Something under his eye twitched.
She vaguely remembered Mr. Fell ordering something else, once or twice, when they had been out of his usual. The lovely smile on his face as he assured her it was just as nice as the lemon cake, really, he didn't mind. What was it? Muffins maybe?
"Slice of Victoria Sponge, then," the man huffed, not as bothered about the need for substitution as she had expected.
That, it was that.
Feeling unusually guilty, she snuck an oatmeal cookie in the cakebox. Mr. Face Tattoo seemed like the type to enjoy them.
It almost felt like after that, Nina started to see them around more often. She knew it was just her mind playing tricks on her, like how people who learnt a new word suddenly seemed to read it everywhere. But no, it wasn't entirely that. She was sure Mr. Face Tattoo who might or might not be in the mafia (but very much probably was) was more or less living in the bookshop now. At least, he was spending every night there.
She saw them leave the bookshop at 9pm every single night, just as she was closing up. They would make their way to the nice car parked at the front and Mr. Face Tattoo would open the door for Mr. Fell. Would wait for him to settle comfortably inside before making his way to his own side. And then they would be off and when Nina came in the morning to open the store, the car would be back at the front.
And Mr. Face Tattoo would be around half an hour after she opened, Chamomile tea and lemon cake, which he would dutifully bring into the shop. Never anything for himself. Another hour later, he would be gone, off to whatever mafia business he had.
Now, and she realised she didn't have a lot of knowledge in that regard. But all of that was... strange, wasn't it? Were mafia people, of which Mr. Face Tattoo might or might not be part of, supposed to be going on dates with fussy bookshop owners? Certainly, they were not supposed to be living with fussy bookshop owners, in said bookshops? Of course, she could see the appeal. Mr Fell was sweet and gentle and pretty in a way that wasn't appealing to her, but she could appreciate. That wasn't the problem part of the equation.
It was Mr. Face Tattoo with his skinny jeans and his slicked-back hair, his terrible attitude and non-committal grunts when Nina tried to talk to him about anything else other than his, Mr. Fell's that is, order. And, of course, the face tattoo. No normal person would have that, and she wasn't judging, she would never judge someone on how they looked. But the man had a face tattoo. And wore far too many nice clothes to not have a well paying job.
Well, Mr. Fell was the one who owned half the street so it could very well be that everything was coming out of his pockets. That would certainly explain a few things.
Oh. Oh, no. Was Mr. Face Tattoo with that nice man just for his money?!
The next time Mr. Face Tattoo came into the shop, she was ready to give him the lecture of a lifetime. She had spent every night for a week now, tossing and turning in her bed, and she knew exactly what to say.
"Chamomile tea and a slice of lemon cake." The man turned to look at her and the shock of it almost stopped her from her prepared spiel. She opened her mouth. "And a coffee, black."
Okay, yes, that did make her freeze as her fingers hovered over the buttons of her POS system. For a second she even forgot where the button for coffee was. Which was ridiculous, of course she knew where her most used button was. She could see from the corner of her eye Mr. Face Tattoo was twitching, a jumble of nerves, and was it even safe to give him more coffee? Civil duty and everything? Did that even extend to obvious mafia members?
The bell above the door rang, footsteps approached the counter and she called out, "Be with you in a minute," without even raising her head. Where was that button? She had used it on just the previous customer, for goodness' sake.
"Oh, no, Nina. I think I will be fine." A familiar voice said and her eyes snapped up. Mr. Fell was in her cafe, smiling softly. But he wasn't looking at her, instead aiming that disarming smile towards his friend. And he had raised his eyebrows expectantly, as if waiting for an answer to a question he hadn't asked. An answer Mr. Face Tattoo gave him in the form of a shrug of the shoulder.
The smile turned even more brilliant. That was strange. She was sure she had never seen him smile like that, even at her cakes.
"Thank you, my dear," Mr. Fell said, a light blush creeping over his cheeks and he reached out to smooth over the lapels of the other man's jacket. Nina watched with a bated breath, the coffee button forgotten now, as she waited for Mr. Face Tattoo to tear the fingers off of him. Or, more likely, move out of reach. Maybe yell? She had been staring at them for months now, it seemed, and she had never seen them touch before. It was very clear one of them was not a big fan of PDA. Mr. Face Tattoo most probably, because Mr. Fell never hesitated to share a friendly touch with anyone.
"Ngk." A strange sound clawed its way out of Mr. Face Tattoo's throat and Nina's eyes snapped to him. He was scarlet, his whole face so flushed it was almost matching his hair. She had never thought she would see this on anyone that was so very firmly middle-aged, or that she would find it as adorable as she did.
Mr. Fell, for his part, was still staring at his friend, with that gentle smile on his face and yes, Nina understood what Alice had meant when she called him besotted. Finally, he removed his hands from Mr. Face Tattoo's body, which seemed to be enough to start the man's brain.
"Take a seat, angel." Mr. Face Tattoo placed a hand on the other man's back and gently pushed him further inside the cafe. "I'll bring it over."
And, oh, there the button for coffee was. Right under her finger.
As she lifted her eyes to look at Mr. Face Tattoo, staring at the retreating figure of the other man, she smiled. Besotted, the both of them.
"I'm going to say something," Nina said, for what was probably the 3rd time.
"And what are you planning on saying, then?" Alice finally replied. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. Totally-not-in-the-mafia, sir, I think your friend-lover is cheating on you with a handsome hunk of a man?" Do you think that would go very well for you?"
"Well, someone has to."
The thing was, Nina didn't often meddle in other people's relationship. Yes, she was curious and yes, she loved a good gossip. But she knew it wasn't her place to reveal to Mr. Face Tattoo that his partner was most probably unfaithful. And that man was most certainly up to no good. It was very clearly his vibe. He was also, most certainly, in the mafia and you didn't really give bad news to people who knew how to kill you and how to dispose of your body. And Nina hadn't liked him from the moment she had seen him. She had been ready to lecture him for being with Mr. Fell for his money, for goodness' sake. It was clear she wasn't doing this out of some friendly obligation.
But he also deserved to know that the man he was very clearly in love with had just welcomed a very handsome, very naked, visitor in his bookshop.
With a resolute nod, she headed towards their table.
"How's your naked man friend?"