He was thirty today. The big three-oh. And what did he have to show for it? Still working for his aunt to make rent. Still hustling his art that no one seemed to want. Enzo was tired. The only thing that kept him going was the joy of creating. That’s why despite the cost of art supplies, he wouldn’t stop creating.
At some point, he’d have to give up. Enzo couldn’t keep telling himself this was worth it. He should find a real job. One with health benefits. One he could be proud of if a cute guy asked him what he did. Barista was something to do while waiting for the big break.
Now he felt like shit. His aunt had been good to him, giving him this job after Enzo had his fight with his parents. It wasn’t that he hated working for her. Just that it was time for something more.
One more year, he told himself. If I don’t hit it big this year, I’ll go find a nine to five like Mom and Dad wanted.
Enzo skidded to a stop outside the cafe. He didn’t even have to check his phone to know he was late. He pushed open the door and stopped in his tracks as everyone inside yelled a variation of “Surprise!” or “Happy birthday!”
“Seriously?” Enzo couldn’t help grinning. While he’d guessed his aunt had a cake or something ready for him, he hadn’t expected an impromptu surprise party with their regular customers and…a new guy?
His gaze drifted over the newcomer—dark hair, a friendly smile, and broad shoulders hidden beneath a soft looking sweater. Their eyes met across the room, and the stranger gave him a slow nod and a filthy grin. Enzo felt a zing go through him, a sudden flush of warmth as desire spread through his body. When was the last time he’d made a connection like this across a crowded room?
Enzo swallowed and pushed the impulse down. Surely he was imagining things. He walked over and gave Lydia a one-armed hug, since the other was weighed down with his purchases. “You shouldn’t have.”
She smirked up at him. “Couldn’t let your thirtieth birthday go without a party.”
“No, I mean, you really shouldn’t have.” He didn’t want to hurt his cousin’s feelings, and Enzo wasn’t about to unpack all his misgivings about turning thirty. She was only eighteen; she wouldn’t get it for a while yet. Lydia wasn’t destined to make the same mistakes he had.
“Blow out your candles so we can cut your cake.” Lydia pointed to the flaming baked goodie his aunt currently carried.
He gestured to the back. “Let me set my stuff down.” Enzo didn’t want to risk anything happening to his precious art supplies. He stowed them quickly behind the counter, grabbing his apron as he came back.
Lydia held up her hand, and as if they’d rehearsed, everyone started to sing “Happy Birthday.”
All right. He wasn’t going to be a jerk about it, not when everyone was being so nice. When they finished, Enzo took a bow, and then bent over and blew out all of his candles in one shot.
“Did you make a wish?” New Guy asked.
Enzo looked over to answer, and for a moment was blinded by the guy’s eyes—they were so blue, a brilliant sapphire enhanced by his dark eyelashes.
He’d use cobalt blue for those eyes. Enzo would lay down the color, and then build up the texture, so the pupils would literally pop. Then he’d use flecks of white to highlight the light coming from this stranger’s gaze.
Enzo grinned. “Even if I did, I can’t tell, or it won’t come true.”
I wish I could make it as an artist. That wasn’t such a small thing. But maybe Enzo had to stop waiting for something to happen to him. He had to go out and grab the bull by the balls. Wait, that wasn’t right. Horns, not balls.
“Everyone gets a slice of cake,” Aunt Rosa said, brandishing her slicing knife. One of the twins—Anabell maybe, Enzo had trouble telling them apart when they were wearing matching aprons—stood beside her with plates while the other went and handed out cake to each of the people in the cafe.
Enzo took his cake and licked a stripe of frosting off of the top. Delicious. His aunt was an amazing baker, and he should feel damn lucky she’d gone to all this trouble. He stopped to give her a hug. “Thank you.”
She slapped him on the shoulder. “Anything for my favorite nephew. Now hurry up and get back to work.”
He laughed.
Everyone took their cake and scattered to their respective corners. He knew Dorothy and Grace would resume arguing about something that had happened when they were in their twenties. Man, he wished he could have a lifetime relationship like that, to be able to know someone that long, to be able to fight about something that happened sixty years ago. Tami would go back to enjoying her coffee until the baby woke up and then once the wailing started, she and Scottie would leave with an apologetic glance in his direction. There were a few regulars missing—Zack the guy with the skateboard no matter the weather, and Newspaper Bill who always came with several stacks of newspapers that he proceeded to spread out over the tables and read for hours.
Yeah, the cafe was so damn predictable. Except for this new guy.