GDI, this is what I get for not knowing my coffee recipes. In the edited version, when/if I get around to it, Marcone's drinks will not contain espresso. Harry does not have an espresso machine (yet). Apparently espresso is in fucking everything, though.
+6+
Harry wasn't sure how the joke of a business idea had gotten to be his livelihood. He'd worked for Mac happily for four years when, in a rare moment of wordiness, Mac had mentioned Harry made good coffee.
A customer had asked if it was as good as Mac's ale, and gotten a thoughtful nod from Mac alongside an embarrassed denial from Harry. The customer had joked Harry should go into business, then - because coffee as good as Mac's ale would never have problems getting sold.
Harry thought about it for a month or two and said maybe it was worth a shot? He'd had the ancient coffee machine for a little while and finally got it working; a regular offered his truck to transport it as long as he got the first drink.
"You're right, it's not that good," he shook his head after a few sips. "I'll have to drink the whole batch, I'm not sure anyone else can handle it."
Harry, who had been about to give up altogether, got much more encouraged when people started fighting to be next in line for a drink.
Somehow, in hardly a month and a half since the grand opening, he'd grown a loyal customer base that was more than paying his bills, to the point that he didn't really need his job at Mac's anymore, he just worked there so he could keep the free rent - and because he still felt he owed Mac.
And now he'd agreed to hand-deliver coffee before he opened. What had compelled him to offer that? He liked Johnny and Rahm, sure, but - this was time out of his day. Building customer loyalty, sure, and a little more money in his pocket, but why these two guys? They weren't the only people who liked having his coffee with lunch.
Johnny was sweet, like the sugary drinks he liked. He didn't show it, to the point that Harry wasn't supposed to tell the courier boys what he put in Johnny's drinks. But he was really nice, and very thoughtful. Harry wasn't surprised to find out Johnny donated to children's charities.
Rahm was all tightly packed energy, like the espresso he teased about wanting. Harry had been looking into getting an espresso machine and trying to convince himself that he wasn't getting it just for Rahm. Instead he just made it a point to roast some of the beans as briefly as possible and leave them aside for Rahm or other customers who needed an extra pick-me-up.
Maybe if he got a vanilla human to work for him, they could manage the espresso. Kim didn't have nearly the problems with technology that he did, but she certainly didn't help - she was a minor talent with magic.
He shook his head. Why did he need to do this?
Today was the first day he would be delivering, and the coffee was almost ready. He'd cast a little spell on the cups he'd brought home the day before - they'd keep the coffee warm for about three hours, without it being too hot to drink or too hot to hold.
The spell had taken an hour or two to design, but now that he knew it, it was an easy enough thing to perform. He mixed Johnny's sugary mess of the day - more hot chocolate than coffee, really - and then brewed Rahm's strong and dark, with different spices today, for variety: clove and ginger, in addition to the usual cinnamon for flavor.
He cradled the cups in the jerry-rigged cupholders of his Blue Beetle.
He parked in a delivery/loading zone and hoped this qualified, sniffing the covered drinks to make sure he grabbed the right one.
Fourteen administrators, security guards, and downright assholes later, and he was in Johnny's office, fidgeting uneasily. Maybe he should just leave it on Johnny's desk? He knew the guy would pay him back, after all...he was just setting it down to go when he heard a click.
"Don't move." He didn't. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"I'm assuming I can move to respond," he said blandly.
"Yeah. Turn around."
The speaker was actually someone he recognized - the redhead who picked up Johnny's coffee the first few days, along with a cup for himself.
"Oh, Harry. Jesus, I thought you were leaving a bomb or something," the man rolled his eyes, holstering a gun that had been pointed at Harry's chest. Harry swallowed.
"Does Johnny get a lot of bombs instead of coffee?"
"Not many bombs, no. Threats of them, sure. Can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs and all that," the redhead waved a hand dismissively. "Wait, you brought him coffee?"
Harry nodded slowly.
The man pulled out his wallet - Harry tensed briefly, not sure it wasn't another gun at first - and thumbed out a five dollar bill. "Here, keep the change," he handed it over. Harry held up his hands.
"I don't wanna overcharge."
"It's a trip, Harry, take it."
"That's a pretty ridiculous tip."
"Just take the money," the man said tiredly.
"What's your name?" Harry asked, finally accepting the bill.
"...it's kind of a long story, but basically I have a tendency to break anything made after WWII. And I haven't been able to find an affordable espresso machine from that era that still works."
Ted nodded, though it was clear this didn't make much sense to him.
"I have another delivery to make, okay?" Harry smiled nervously. "So I'll just be going." Ted seemed nice enough, but getting a gun pulled on you was enough to make anyone jumpy.
He was halfway out of Johnny's office when the man himself walked in.
"Harry! Please, sit."
"I really shouldn't, I have to deliver to Rahm next," Harry said hesitantly, glancing at Ted out of the corner of his eye.
"The Mayor can wait a moment. Did Mr. Hendricks pay you?"
"Yes," Harry said, standing behind one of the ergonomic, ultramodern guest chairs and clutching the back of it. He'd never felt so uneasy around Johnny before. It was probably just the office, and the hulking bodyguard. In the dim of the bar/cafe, Ted hadn't seemed very imposing. They'd even shared a few jokes about philosophy, set off by a button Kim was wearing.
"You seem...agitated."
"This isn't exactly my comfort zone," he gestured stiffly to the sprawling office and its expansive view of Chicago.
Johnny sipped his coffee and sighed happily. "Thank you so much for bringing this to me."
"N-no problem. Is there any free parking near City Hall?" he asked edgily.
"For you? I'm afraid not. It's only a few minutes' walk, though - you can leave your car...where is your car?"
"A loading bay, I think," Harry toed the carpet.
"Well, just leave it there. I'll make sure nothing happens to it. Tomorrow we'll figure out a better place to park it."
"Okay. W-well, I'd better go get to Rahm."
Johnny watched him go thoughtfully.
+7+
It was only ten administrators, secretaries, and bureaucrats (and general assholes) to get to Rahm. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if perhaps Johnny wasn't being completely upfront about the things he did.
"What the hell took you so long?" Rahm grinned at him, pulling him by the arm, moving deeper into his office. "I have been jonesing for this coffee all morning."
"I tried something a little different," Harry said, offering the cup. "Let me know if you don't like it, I can bring you something else next time."
Rahm took a sip and closed his eyes. The sigh was more of a moan. It made Harry feel uncomfortably warm.
"I want this. Whatever is in this, I want it every time."
Harry flashed him a quick smile. "I'm glad you liked it! You're harder to pin down, you know - usually I know what people want the minute they walk in. But you've got hidden depths and whatnot." He realized he was babbling and stopped.
"So, you took Johnny his first?" Rahm raised an eyebrow. "What do I need to do to fix that?"
"Free parking," Harry laughed.
Rahm took another sip. "Done. I'll give you the city clerk's parking spot."
"Wha - no!" Harry laughed. "Something legal. Come on."
"I'll work something out with the parking administration. After coffee. I don't want it to get cold."
Harry checked his pocketwatch. It had been his paternal grandfather's, or so his dad had said. Harry never met the man, but the watch worked better for him than any of the fancy digital jobs had ever done. "It should stay warm for another hour at least," he said.
Rahm made an inquisitive noise while his mouth was full of coffee.
"It's um. A special cup."
Another curious sip. "How does that work?"
"Magic," Harry said cheerfully.
"Right," Rahm rolled his eyes.
+8+
The routine changed, but only a little. Every weekday, Harry drove down town. He alternated when he delivered to Johnny first or Rahm first. On weekends, he made Rahm's drink about ten minutes before opening Saturday - Rahm was usually there five minutes before opening. Johnny came in during normal business hours. There was always a second drink for Rahm on Saturdays, too, just before Harry closed.
Sundays meant staying late after his shift in the bar, making a drink for Johnny and warming the cup (he tweaked the spell to essentially act as a stasis on the contents until someone started to drink it). He left it with the gatehouse of Johnny's mansion. A second sugary drink for Johnny meant coming back in to Mac's and letting Johnny in through the back door. Rahm almost always ended up with a spiced coffee delivered to his house, somewhere in there.
It got to the point where he could supply the shop just on delivering to Rahm and Johnny, with extra for the gas he was using on them. They kept refusing to pay him less than $5, even though he thought they had agreed on $3 for deliveries. Sometimes, when they were in a hurry, it was a $10 or a $20 bill instead, and he was hustled out the door before he could protest.
They wouldn't take change back, either. He eventually chalked it up to rich people being eccentric and left it at that.
The three of them got stuck in this holding pattern of overpaying Harry and leaving him without a way to respond. He did his best to maintain his relationships with other customers, but the whole shop could see the way he lit up when Rahm or Johnny walked in.
It was a Saturday when the delivery arrived. Johnny and Rahm were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, ignoring each other. Harry was never sure if they'd bicker or glare silently, any given day. Sometimes they tried to get him to bring insults to the other with coffee, but he ignored that kind of behavior. He would tolerate their disagreements, but he wouldn't enable them.
A UPS guy walked into the shop, looked around, and spotted Harry. "I got a delivery," he said, "for a...Harry? That's you, right?"
"Yeah. Would you like some coffee?" Harry asked.
"No thanks," he shook his head. "I need you to sign for the package."
"What is it?"
"I just deliver the stuff, I don't look inside," the man shrugged. He held out a clipboard.
Once Harry signed, the man ducked back out to the truck. He had to wheel whatever it was down a ramp. The whole bar was filled with interested chatter.
He wheeled the dolly indoors and left it in the middle of the floor.
"Uh, thanks?" Harry said dubiously. Kim grabbed some scissors and opened the box, shoving aside packing peanuts.
"Holy shit, boss!" she yelped. "Come look at this!"
Harry emerged from behind the bar and peered into the box. Customers were gathering around now.
"Is that..."
"That's a 1938 Cremonesi piston-pump espresso machine," Kim said in awe. "I read about these. It must have cost a fortune. Most of them were destroyed."
Rahm and Johnny hadn't left the bar, though both were watching interestedly.
"Let's find out if it works," Harry grinned.
It took some experimentation - and liberal consultation of the manual - but Harry managed to make a shot of espresso. He taste-tested it, frowned a little, dumped it out, and made another. That one was much better. The third, he mixed into a mocha and gave to Johnny.
"Because I seem to remember mentioning something about my technology issues to Ted," he said pointedly.
Johnny, Rahm and Harry [6, 7 & 8/?]
+6+
Harry wasn't sure how the joke of a business idea had gotten to be his livelihood. He'd worked for Mac happily for four years when, in a rare moment of wordiness, Mac had mentioned Harry made good coffee.
A customer had asked if it was as good as Mac's ale, and gotten a thoughtful nod from Mac alongside an embarrassed denial from Harry. The customer had joked Harry should go into business, then - because coffee as good as Mac's ale would never have problems getting sold.
Harry thought about it for a month or two and said maybe it was worth a shot? He'd had the ancient coffee machine for a little while and finally got it working; a regular offered his truck to transport it as long as he got the first drink.
"You're right, it's not that good," he shook his head after a few sips. "I'll have to drink the whole batch, I'm not sure anyone else can handle it."
Harry, who had been about to give up altogether, got much more encouraged when people started fighting to be next in line for a drink.
Somehow, in hardly a month and a half since the grand opening, he'd grown a loyal customer base that was more than paying his bills, to the point that he didn't really need his job at Mac's anymore, he just worked there so he could keep the free rent - and because he still felt he owed Mac.
And now he'd agreed to hand-deliver coffee before he opened. What had compelled him to offer that? He liked Johnny and Rahm, sure, but - this was time out of his day. Building customer loyalty, sure, and a little more money in his pocket, but why these two guys? They weren't the only people who liked having his coffee with lunch.
Johnny was sweet, like the sugary drinks he liked. He didn't show it, to the point that Harry wasn't supposed to tell the courier boys what he put in Johnny's drinks. But he was really nice, and very thoughtful. Harry wasn't surprised to find out Johnny donated to children's charities.
Rahm was all tightly packed energy, like the espresso he teased about wanting. Harry had been looking into getting an espresso machine and trying to convince himself that he wasn't getting it just for Rahm. Instead he just made it a point to roast some of the beans as briefly as possible and leave them aside for Rahm or other customers who needed an extra pick-me-up.
Maybe if he got a vanilla human to work for him, they could manage the espresso. Kim didn't have nearly the problems with technology that he did, but she certainly didn't help - she was a minor talent with magic.
He shook his head. Why did he need to do this?
Today was the first day he would be delivering, and the coffee was almost ready. He'd cast a little spell on the cups he'd brought home the day before - they'd keep the coffee warm for about three hours, without it being too hot to drink or too hot to hold.
The spell had taken an hour or two to design, but now that he knew it, it was an easy enough thing to perform. He mixed Johnny's sugary mess of the day - more hot chocolate than coffee, really - and then brewed Rahm's strong and dark, with different spices today, for variety: clove and ginger, in addition to the usual cinnamon for flavor.
He cradled the cups in the jerry-rigged cupholders of his Blue Beetle.
He parked in a delivery/loading zone and hoped this qualified, sniffing the covered drinks to make sure he grabbed the right one.
Fourteen administrators, security guards, and downright assholes later, and he was in Johnny's office, fidgeting uneasily. Maybe he should just leave it on Johnny's desk? He knew the guy would pay him back, after all...he was just setting it down to go when he heard a click.
"Don't move." He didn't. "How the hell did you get in here?"
"I'm assuming I can move to respond," he said blandly.
"Yeah. Turn around."
The speaker was actually someone he recognized - the redhead who picked up Johnny's coffee the first few days, along with a cup for himself.
"Oh, Harry. Jesus, I thought you were leaving a bomb or something," the man rolled his eyes, holstering a gun that had been pointed at Harry's chest. Harry swallowed.
"Does Johnny get a lot of bombs instead of coffee?"
"Not many bombs, no. Threats of them, sure. Can't make an omelet without cracking a few eggs and all that," the redhead waved a hand dismissively. "Wait, you brought him coffee?"
Harry nodded slowly.
The man pulled out his wallet - Harry tensed briefly, not sure it wasn't another gun at first - and thumbed out a five dollar bill. "Here, keep the change," he handed it over. Harry held up his hands.
"I don't wanna overcharge."
"It's a trip, Harry, take it."
"That's a pretty ridiculous tip."
"Just take the money," the man said tiredly.
"What's your name?" Harry asked, finally accepting the bill.
"...Uh, Ted. Ted Hendricks."
Harry shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I remember you ordered a cappuccino and I had to tell you we don't have espresso. So you ended up with café au lait, right?"
Ted nodded.
"Great. I'll bring you one next time."
"Wait, you still don't have espresso?"
"...it's kind of a long story, but basically I have a tendency to break anything made after WWII. And I haven't been able to find an affordable espresso machine from that era that still works."
Ted nodded, though it was clear this didn't make much sense to him.
"I have another delivery to make, okay?" Harry smiled nervously. "So I'll just be going." Ted seemed nice enough, but getting a gun pulled on you was enough to make anyone jumpy.
He was halfway out of Johnny's office when the man himself walked in.
"Harry! Please, sit."
"I really shouldn't, I have to deliver to Rahm next," Harry said hesitantly, glancing at Ted out of the corner of his eye.
"The Mayor can wait a moment. Did Mr. Hendricks pay you?"
"Yes," Harry said, standing behind one of the ergonomic, ultramodern guest chairs and clutching the back of it. He'd never felt so uneasy around Johnny before. It was probably just the office, and the hulking bodyguard. In the dim of the bar/cafe, Ted hadn't seemed very imposing. They'd even shared a few jokes about philosophy, set off by a button Kim was wearing.
"You seem...agitated."
"This isn't exactly my comfort zone," he gestured stiffly to the sprawling office and its expansive view of Chicago.
Johnny sipped his coffee and sighed happily. "Thank you so much for bringing this to me."
"N-no problem. Is there any free parking near City Hall?" he asked edgily.
"For you? I'm afraid not. It's only a few minutes' walk, though - you can leave your car...where is your car?"
"A loading bay, I think," Harry toed the carpet.
"Well, just leave it there. I'll make sure nothing happens to it. Tomorrow we'll figure out a better place to park it."
"Okay. W-well, I'd better go get to Rahm."
Johnny watched him go thoughtfully.
+7+
It was only ten administrators, secretaries, and bureaucrats (and general assholes) to get to Rahm. Not for the first time, Harry wondered if perhaps Johnny wasn't being completely upfront about the things he did.
"What the hell took you so long?" Rahm grinned at him, pulling him by the arm, moving deeper into his office. "I have been jonesing for this coffee all morning."
"I tried something a little different," Harry said, offering the cup. "Let me know if you don't like it, I can bring you something else next time."
Rahm took a sip and closed his eyes. The sigh was more of a moan. It made Harry feel uncomfortably warm.
"I want this. Whatever is in this, I want it every time."
Harry flashed him a quick smile. "I'm glad you liked it! You're harder to pin down, you know - usually I know what people want the minute they walk in. But you've got hidden depths and whatnot." He realized he was babbling and stopped.
"So, you took Johnny his first?" Rahm raised an eyebrow. "What do I need to do to fix that?"
"Free parking," Harry laughed.
Rahm took another sip. "Done. I'll give you the city clerk's parking spot."
"Wha - no!" Harry laughed. "Something legal. Come on."
"I'll work something out with the parking administration. After coffee. I don't want it to get cold."
Harry checked his pocketwatch. It had been his paternal grandfather's, or so his dad had said. Harry never met the man, but the watch worked better for him than any of the fancy digital jobs had ever done. "It should stay warm for another hour at least," he said.
Rahm made an inquisitive noise while his mouth was full of coffee.
"It's um. A special cup."
Another curious sip. "How does that work?"
"Magic," Harry said cheerfully.
"Right," Rahm rolled his eyes.
+8+
The routine changed, but only a little. Every weekday, Harry drove down town. He alternated when he delivered to Johnny first or Rahm first. On weekends, he made Rahm's drink about ten minutes before opening Saturday - Rahm was usually there five minutes before opening. Johnny came in during normal business hours. There was always a second drink for Rahm on Saturdays, too, just before Harry closed.
Sundays meant staying late after his shift in the bar, making a drink for Johnny and warming the cup (he tweaked the spell to essentially act as a stasis on the contents until someone started to drink it). He left it with the gatehouse of Johnny's mansion. A second sugary drink for Johnny meant coming back in to Mac's and letting Johnny in through the back door. Rahm almost always ended up with a spiced coffee delivered to his house, somewhere in there.
It got to the point where he could supply the shop just on delivering to Rahm and Johnny, with extra for the gas he was using on them. They kept refusing to pay him less than $5, even though he thought they had agreed on $3 for deliveries. Sometimes, when they were in a hurry, it was a $10 or a $20 bill instead, and he was hustled out the door before he could protest.
They wouldn't take change back, either. He eventually chalked it up to rich people being eccentric and left it at that.
The three of them got stuck in this holding pattern of overpaying Harry and leaving him without a way to respond. He did his best to maintain his relationships with other customers, but the whole shop could see the way he lit up when Rahm or Johnny walked in.
It was a Saturday when the delivery arrived. Johnny and Rahm were sitting at opposite ends of the bar, ignoring each other. Harry was never sure if they'd bicker or glare silently, any given day. Sometimes they tried to get him to bring insults to the other with coffee, but he ignored that kind of behavior. He would tolerate their disagreements, but he wouldn't enable them.
A UPS guy walked into the shop, looked around, and spotted Harry. "I got a delivery," he said, "for a...Harry? That's you, right?"
"Yeah. Would you like some coffee?" Harry asked.
"No thanks," he shook his head. "I need you to sign for the package."
"What is it?"
"I just deliver the stuff, I don't look inside," the man shrugged. He held out a clipboard.
Once Harry signed, the man ducked back out to the truck. He had to wheel whatever it was down a ramp. The whole bar was filled with interested chatter.
He wheeled the dolly indoors and left it in the middle of the floor.
"Uh, thanks?" Harry said dubiously. Kim grabbed some scissors and opened the box, shoving aside packing peanuts.
"Holy shit, boss!" she yelped. "Come look at this!"
Harry emerged from behind the bar and peered into the box. Customers were gathering around now.
"Is that..."
"That's a 1938 Cremonesi piston-pump espresso machine," Kim said in awe. "I read about these. It must have cost a fortune. Most of them were destroyed."
Rahm and Johnny hadn't left the bar, though both were watching interestedly.
"Let's find out if it works," Harry grinned.
It took some experimentation - and liberal consultation of the manual - but Harry managed to make a shot of espresso. He taste-tested it, frowned a little, dumped it out, and made another. That one was much better. The third, he mixed into a mocha and gave to Johnny.
"Because I seem to remember mentioning something about my technology issues to Ted," he said pointedly.
Johnny smiled and sipped the mocha.