The Bernie Factor

by Joseph S. Davis

  ~~~~~

  Shauna stirred her coffee in a wide figure eight pattern and watched the freshly poured cream swirl and mix with the roasted dark blend. Ceiling mounted speakers in the GFD played Buddy Guy, and she tapped her feet in time with “Mustang Sally.” Her back faced a glass pane, and the sun radiated against her sweater. She sipped the hot coffee and reveled at the warmth from the sun that seemed magnified as it traveled through the window. Outside, the barren trees swayed in the wind that streaked down the boulevard, picking up the occasional stray leaf forgotten by the fall cleanup.

  The bell above the front door clanged as a new customer walked across the seventy-year old hardwood floors. Shauna raised her green eyes from the cup and gave Vincent a friendly smile as he made his way to her table.

  “You’re early,” he said as he pulled back a chair. Vincent cupped his fingers and blew warm breath into his hands. He rubbed them together and peered forward at Shauna’s drink. “Just get it?”

  “Took my first sip as you walked in. So, do you know what this is all about?”

  Vincent dragged his fingers through his long, wavy hair and shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the one dating him, sister.” He brought his hands down from his head and crossed his arms over his chest. He shook his head from side to side and said, “Keeping secrets from each other so early in the relationship. Not good, not good at all.”

  The intensity from Nick and Shauna’s first unofficial date did nothing to smother the flames of their innate attraction to one another. So, taken by their sky rocketing romance, Vincent took his own advice and adopted a dog from the Fairview Humane Shelter. A Boston terrier mix of some sort became a perfect fit for Vincent. Bugsy, as he named him, fit in well with the two nocturnal cats that roamed Vincent’s house. Not particularly large in stature and new to the mix, Bugsy accepted that becoming the Alpha male in this group was not in his immediate future. Late afternoon walks and trips to the dog park broadened Vincent’s local social network. He even had a date this particular evening. He earnestly hoped no U.S. Marshals would crash the party.

  Shauna withdrew her wooden stirrer from her cup and flicked coffee off the end at Vincent. “Be nice. You owe me.”

  “Nice is an emotional state which varies from person to person and can never be clearly defined unless the participants have an ongoing relational determination on their agreed upon definition of the word,” Vincent said as he stroked his goatee. Shauna flashed back to college psychology 101 and Freudian psychoanalysis. Her mind stalled, fearing Vincent would begin a diatribe on penis envy or Oedipal complexes. “And how do I owe you?” he continued.

  Before Shauna could reply, Miguel delivered a steaming hot mug and a plate of oatmeal, butterscotch cookies to the table. Vincent lowered his nose to the cup, inhaling as the steam rose from the brim.

  “Ah, a café sol,” Vincent said with an eager grin. The orange flavored latte was one of his favorites. “Muchos gracias,” he said to Miguel and Shauna. “And cookies, too. My bane and my joy all tied together in a wonderful pastry delight,” he marveled, lifting a cookie off the plate.

  “De nada,” Miguel replied as he set another equally hot mug down at the open seat next to Shauna. “And a toffee caramel latte for Nick. Can I get anything else for my favorite patrons?”

  “Yeah, a gym membership,” Vincent sputtered out with a mouthful of cookie. “These things are like crack to me. I’m going to develop a humongous cookie gut in no time flat at my age.”

  “How about I put a treadmill in the storage room for you?” Miguel asked. “I’ll attach a plate to the handrail, and you can burn it off as fast as you put it on.”

  Vincent paused his chewing to contemplate the offer. “But there are no hot women in tight fitting work out gear in your storage room, are there?”

  “Not recently. I could have Frankie stock the shelves while you’re in there so you have a view of a half moon.” Frankie was easily 300 pounds and constantly pulling up his sagging pants. Vincent always felt compelled to buy him a belt.

  “Good Lord! I’d rather be fat,” Vincent replied.

  “Frankie will be crushed,” Miguel said as he walked away. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell him.”

  “Great, now I’m going to get a queasy feeling every time I look at that storage room door,” Shauna said.

  “Yes, but thinking of Frankie’s ass could be just the negative reinforcement I need to pair with these damn things. I may never eat another one.”

  “Do you really want to do that? What is life without its simple joys, like cookies?” Shauna countered as she grabbed one herself. “Moderation, Vincent, moderation.”

  “Easier said than done, but I’m willing to give it a try. That last one isn’t for Nick, is it? I think he’s dieting or something like that, right?”

  Shauna smiled at Vincent’s childish charm and said, “Sure, it’s plausible. He’d probably be upset if you didn’t eat it. Unless, of course, this is some type of dietary intervention plan he concocted to save us from our base, primordial desire for sweet treats.”

  “Fat chance. No pun intended. He’s got a sweet tooth, too.”

  Shauna knew Nick had a weakness from time to time for sugary items. Last weekend they celebrated Kendra’s birthday with a red velvet cake, coated in a butter cream frosting with Kendra spelled out in edible neon pink sparkles across the top. When Shauna inquired as to Kendra’s identity, Nick explained that the grocery store marked the cake down 70% after Kendra’s party givers failed to pick it up. After feeling guilty for helping him eat the entire cake and down half a pot of GFD coffee mixed with Bailey’s Irish Cream, Nick assuaged her demons by explaining Kendra would have wanted it that way. Oddly enough, Shauna developed a connection to the hapless birthday girl and agreed with Nick. You rock, Kendra.

  “Agreed,” said Shauna as she raised her coffee mug and clanked it against Vincent’s lifted cup.

  As they set their mugs down, Nick walked through the front door, carrying two small boxes wrapped in non-descript brown paper. He scanned the coffee shop before spotting them at the table. He trotted over to them and plopped down in the seat with the freshly made latte. He let out a satisfied sigh and gave them a closed mouth smile. His lips couldn’t stretch any further, Shauna thought. Her anticipation grew with his arrival. She leaned in and pointed to Nick’s cargo.

  “So what’s this, lover boy?”

  “Oh, come on now,” Vincent protested. “You two aren’t going to get all mushy, are you?”

  “I’ll do my best, buddy, but I won’t make any promises,” Nick replied. “I’m only so strong,” Nick said as he winked at Shauna, which caused her to blush and look away. Nick loved to make her turn red. She was already plenty beautiful to him, but that red face with the strawberry blond hair made him melt.

  Changing the pace, Nick continued, “I’ve got a surprise for you two,” he said lifting the two boxes. He pushed a box to each of them and sat back in his chair. He raised his mug to his lips, stopping short of tasting the first sip. “Go ahead, open them up.” He drank the latte and rocked back in his chair, soaking in the moment.

  Shauna went first and tore through the wrapping. Brown paper scattered across the table and onto the dark stained hardwood floors. Vincent followed suit, but kept an eye on Shauna, enjoying her girlish enthusiasm. Within several seconds, Shauna held a book in her hand. She scanned the title and worked her way down the cover until she saw the author’s name, Nicholas O’Fallon.

  “Oh my God! You got it published!” she screamed. Shauna knew Nick had worked on this novel sporadically for several years, but the writing fire rekindled after meeting Bernie. Years of idleness erupted in a flurry of creativity over the ensuing months culminating with his first novel. Shauna jumped out of her seat and wrapped her arms around Nick. As quickly as her amorous congratulations began, she withdrew and smacked his chest.

  “Hey, what’s that f
or?” Nick protested, raising his fists in a feigned fighting stance.

  “How long have you known this was getting published, you jerk?” Shauna held the book close to her chest like a cherished prize.

  “I wanted it to be a surprise, just like meeting you and Bernie,” Nick explained. “Surprises lately have been a pretty nice thing in my life, so I wanted to keep the traditions alive and kicking.”

  Shauna slapped his knee as she retook her seat, still clutching he book. Nick kept smiling at her, knowing she liked getting surprised like this as much as he did.

  “Well, congratulations, buddy,” Vincent said. He flipped open the front cover and read the inscription written on the inside jacket. To Vincent, my friend, my mentor, my second father, and coffee connoisseur unlike any before or any to come. I’ll always owe you, your friend Nick. Vincent soaked in the words as his eyes welled up with pride. He thought of Nick as a son and this gave him a paternal satisfaction he’d never experienced. Nick saw the emotion spread over Vincent’s face and feared he’d fall prey to that same kind of response. Shauna was already there, as she wiped tears of joy from her face.

  “This is really very special to me,” Vincent choked out. “So, what’s it about?” he asked trying to regain composure.

  “Oh, it’s this crazy story about a guy and a girl, their wacky friends, nut job relatives, good cops, bad cops, and an extremely unique dog,” Nick replied. “You might be somewhat familiar with it already. I thought to change the names to protect the innocent, but none of us are innocent any longer. Besides, you just can’t make this shit up.”