Count Squisit. Chapter 1.

Monday. It’s been the twentieth Monday since she got this job. It was quite mundane and repetitive but still…money was more essential then. As usual in the morning Judy was sitting at the counter in a «Happy Puppy» café staring at people rushing to work. As usual in the morning she was dreaming of quitting this run-of-the-mill job and becoming a writer.
«But what to write about?» — sighing she asked herself. «Are people still into fantasy? Or they admire detective stories? Or maybe… » — her train of thought was interrupted by an irritating bell above the front door.
Broadening out into a beaming smile she said, «Good morning and welcome to «Happy …» — she stopped with her raised eyebrows and an open mouth. The man… . He was… . «He looked… awkward» — thought she.
Indeed, the man, who entered the café, looked unusual for modern days. He was wearing a dark suit with a white shirt and a red bow tie. His face was so deathly pale and the rossy lips stood out so much as if he was wearing a make-up. Despite the morning heat, he had a long-length coat over his suit and a black umbrella.
Gazing at him, Judy’s head was full of various ideas: «Is he starring in the film? Is he ill and help is needed? Maybe he is meeting with his drug-dealer in this café? I should call but whom? Or maybe he is just a usual freak?».
The man reached the counter and started reading the menu as carefully as if he was trying to make out a child’s scribble or find a mistake.
«May I help you?» — I asked him with a trembling voice.
«Oh, madam, I would be extremely pleased if you could lend me a hand» — he replied in such a solemn tone and suddenly stared at me waiting for my answer. My eyes widened in surprise when I saw his… so captivating and brown eyes… and started blinking rapidly trying to remember anything from the menu.
«Sure. No problem. What you want: anything cold or hot? Sweet? Or bitter? Or salty?» — I inquired glancing up to the ceiling and trying to hide my anxiety and fear as deep as possible.
«What could you advice me to try?» — he responded tilting his head and clearly studying me.
«Me?» — I blurted. No one ever asked for my advice. Looking at him carefully, I furrowed my eyebrows and asked: «Why me?»
«I assume you are from a noble family or you have noble ancestors. My assumptions are based on your aristocratic facial features and the way you are behaving. Moreover, it seems to me you have a wonderful taste for everything.» — he explained it as if it was a matter of course examining his long fingers. «So, what would you recommend?»
I starred at him with a flushed face trying to get what it was. He was insane or got into his character so well. Never mind. «He is just a client» — reminded I. Finally my sanity started to come back.
«Thank you for the complement. I do like it. Alright, I can recommend an ice or a hot latte with marshmellows if you are a fan of coffee. In case you aren’t, a cup of green tea with that chocolate cake will be a good option»-I said smiling but my gut feeling knew something was wrong with this man.
He was staring into the distance for some minutes and then said with hesitation: «I would like to drink a hot latte with marsmellows and a piece of chocolate cake, please».
«Good choice. Well, that’ll be 7.55$. In cash or by card?» — I asked with relief wainting for him to leave the café.
«Pardon? By what?» — he surprised. His intense stare was a proof that he had no idea what I was talking about. Then the dissappointment and sadness appeared on his face when he reached into his coat pocket and took out some yellowed papers. «I have only these papers» — he groaned with disappointment.
«That’s okey, don’t worry. You can pay in cash.» — I responded comforting him and taking his money. Papers were so yellow as if my grand-grand-grand dad had used them. I wondered where he had taken them from. Or he was as old as them? «No, it’s impossible. He is not immortal. Even if he were, he would be approximately one hundrend and thirty years old. That’s unreal.» — I smiled at my thoughts while I was counting the change.
«Here you are. Wait for a few minutes until I prepare everything for you» — I said and began to work.
After a few minutes the order was ready and the man was sitting at the corner of the café and examining everything in front of him. His movements were so careful and the face was so concentrated as if he had never seen those unique objects before. At last, he took a small sip of coffee and suddenly started to beam. You couldn’t imagine his reaction on the chocolate cake. He was on cloud nine licking the spoon after the cake on the plate disappeared. Leaving the café he left a card with the address and the words «Always at your service, Count Squisit».
While looking at him a strange idea came to my mind «Why not to write about him?». This idea was spinning in my head all day until I said to myself, «Let’s try it.» And I took the card.