Page 12 of Welcome to Ero-TEA-Ca: We’re Open!

Cassandra

U nbelievable! The gall of the woman to play Cass so well. How dare she confuse Cass so effortlessly? One minute, she was behind the counter finishing up for the day, and the next, she’d been coerced into visiting the blasted porn tea shop by a living embodiment of happiness.

How was Harriet so perky? After their previous interactions, the woman should be angry at Cass, not bloody smiling.

And certainly not visiting Mr Whiskers and talking about taking her uniform off.

What in the world had happened? Cass genuinely couldn’t understand how she’d gone from point A to point B.

More infuriating was Cass’s inability to stop, turn around, and go home.

There was no reason she should be following Harriet to…

that shop. It was the last place she wanted to be and one she’d sworn never to visit. Ever.

Yet here she was, fifty metres from the entrance. The frosted glass did its job well; however, Cass still knew what lay behind that door: Filth! And lots of other people, by the sounds of it. Great, Cass was going to flush red in front of her fellow shop owners, ex-wife, and random hippies.

“I promise you’ll like it, Cassandra.” Harriet’s earnest words did little to quell her anxiety.

“Highly unlikely,” Cass responded. Her heart rate spiked, and she felt a cold sweat form at the base of her skull.

Harriet stopped shy of the tea shop door.

“Look, if after this visit you’re still not on board, I’ll leave you be.

I just don’t want you thinking I’m here to do damage.

The shop’s success is my entire focus. That goes for other shops on the street too.

We all know how hard it is to run an independent business no matter what we sell.

I wouldn’t purposefully open a shop that could damage the sales and reputation of others. ”

“And what if, in the long run, it does? Negatively affect other businesses, I mean?” Last night’s nightmare came to mind again, causing Cass to shiver.

She’d watched her beloved café go down in flames while Ero-Tea-Ca thrived.

Mr Whiskers had woken her with a face bump to the chin and Cass had let a few tears fall.

Her anxiety over the fate of her business was getting out of hand.

Maybe visiting Harriet’s shop would help. The tea shop was like a mythical beast at the moment. Something to be scared of, which seemed ridiculous for a woman in her forties. Cass couldn’t continue letting it affect her like this.

“It won’t. I’m that confident.”

Crap, Harriet looked confident. Sighing, Cass caved.

“Fine. I’ll give it a chance.” Cass held up her hand as Harriet bounced on the spot, excitement dancing in her lovely eyes.

“But if I still hold the same opinion after, you promise to leave me alone. I won’t interfere with your shop, and you won’t bug me. We get on with our lives. Separately.”

Harriet nodded. “But what if you do like it? Does that mean we can be friends? Help each other out?”

“You can be friends with Kendal.”

Harriet rolled her eyes, which was cute. Everything about the woman was cute, and Cass didn’t like it one bit.

Wiping her now sweaty palms over her slacks, Cass painted on the best smile she could convincingly get away with. It probably looked more like a grimace, but it was all she could muster.

Harriet pushed open the door. The noise grew exponentially louder.

Cass tensed, waiting for the assault of vulgarity to strike.

It didn’t. Where was all the red and neon?

She’d imagined something closer to a shop in the Red-Light District, not an actual tearoom.

The place looked so…tea shop-y. Huh. In fact, it was lovely.

The old-style counter, tables, and display case were gorgeous. So where was the erotic bit?

Harriet bumped her shoulder. “So far, so good?”

Cass grunted. She was busy casing the joint, looking for stuff she knew would ruin her experience and validate her dislike of the place.

“Cass, you’re here?” Kendal sounded suitably surprised.

“Not voluntarily,” she grumbled.

“Harriet, did you kidnap my ex-wife?” Kendal laughed.

“Not quite.” Harriet grinned. “Cassandra, would you like a glass of Champagne?”

“No, thank you.” Her reply was gruff, unnecessarily so, but Cass couldn’t shake the disbelief of how wrong she’d gotten the situation, and the tea shop. And then it happened. Her eye caught something on the back shelf behind the counter. A glass…good Lord.

“Ah, I see you’ve found the toys we sell,” Harriet said quietly and far too closely. Cass’s face burned with embarrassment.

“I…” Cass’s eyes then travelled to the teapots on every table. She looked closer and studied the pattern. Christ on a bike! Were they Kama Sutra inspired? Who would want one of those sitting on their kitchen table?

“Aren’t the teapots brilliant?” Kendal said.

“I…” Cass couldn’t come up with words. Yes, the erotic part of the shop was subtle, but it was still there. All she could see was the glass “artwork” sitting on the shelf, staring at her. “I’d like to go now. Thank you for the invite. I’ve seen all I need to. Good night.”

Pushing through the crowd, Cass stepped into the street and pulled in a big lungful of air. All she wanted was to get home and snuggle with Mr Whiskers.

“Cassandra, wait!”

Shooting a glance over her shoulder, Cass gritted her teeth as Harriet came scuttling over. “I’d like to go home, Ms Kirkwell.”

“No need to last name me. It can’t have been that bad.”

“I held up my end of the deal.” Cass wouldn’t cause trouble for Harriet. The shop wasn’t overtly sexual, so she was confident the café wouldn’t be impacted that much. That didn’t mean she had to like it, or that she had to endure another minute inside.

“Cassa—”

“Look, each to their own, okay? I visited, and yes, I’ll concede it isn’t what I thought. We’ll co-exist without drama. Now, can I go home please? I have an early start.”

The crestfallen look didn’t suit Harriet at all, but Cass couldn’t lie. Ero-Tea-Ca would never be a place she’d feel comfortable with.

Harriet nodded and gave a small smile. “Sure. Thank you for at least checking it out.”

“You’re welcome. Good night.”

The walk home was short, thank God. Cass burst through her door, shed her clothes, and jumped in the shower. Her skin felt weird and her head buzzed. Would she ever get to a point where the mere mention of sex wouldn’t send her into a spiral?

The glass dildos swam across her mind. They were beautiful if you took away their purpose.

A nice ornament, possibly—if you liked that kind of thing, but did people really enjoy using them?

It’s not like they were true to life. Their shape sort of looked like a man’s thing.

Ugh, Cass couldn’t even bring herself to use the anatomically correct name.

Was this just her character or had her mum’s lifestyle broken something inside? Why did she have to be so damn awkward?

Shuffling to the couch in her fluffy slippers and silk camisole, Cass took a large swig of the beer she’d nabbed on her way to the living room. What a day. Thankfully, she had tomorrow off. It would be good to put a bit of distance between her and Harriet.

A sliver of guilt surfaced. Just the look on Harriet’s face when Cass all but ran out the door was awful. Harriet, the new resident bundle of joy, whom Cass had upset. Again.

“How was your day off, Cass?”

Cass popped her purse under the counter and headed for the coffee machine. “It was fine. Went to Sainsbury’s.”

“Wow, hardcore.”

“They’ve put Tetley tea bags up again. Ten pence more now,” Cass grumbled.

Kendal leant against the worktop. “Good job you only have to buy a box every blue moon when your mum’s finished it off. God knows how you’d afford to live otherwise.”

“Mock all you want. It’s still bloody outrageous to spend that amount of money on a bag of mediocre tea.”

“A whopping one pound fifty. Yeah, I understand.”

“Well, I didn’t have a choice.” Cass sighed. “I woke up yesterday morning with my left hip aching.”

“Ah, the prophetic ball joint.”

“Again, you can mock, Ken, but you’ve witnessed it enough to know the truth.”

Kendal laughed. “True, true. So that means…”

“Mum will be visiting soon. I just need to wait for the message.”

“What’s a prophetic hip?”

Cass stilled. When had Harriet arrived? She definitely wasn’t in the café when Cass walked in.

“And, hi, guys. I just came to get my morning pastry.”

Turning with her espresso, Cass scowled.

“You can’t bring your own drinks in here, Harriet.

” Not only was she in here, when her own shop served pastry-type food, the woman had brought in a travel mug of what Cass could only assume was tea.

“How would you like it if your patrons waltzed in with their own beverages?”

“Cass.” Kendal sighed.

“What? How am I in the wrong?”

“No, you’re right. I should have left the tea behind. I won’t do it again. I just got excited about the thought of your Danishes. We don’t serve the same foods, which you’ll be happy about. No competition.”

Cass snorted. “As if it’d be a competition.”

“Wow.” Kendal chuckled. Cass flushed. Harriet grinned.

“Anyway, what’s a prophetic ball joint?”

Cass glared at Kendal. It was her signature “Don’t say a word” look, but of course it didn’t work, or Kendal blatantly ignored it.

“Since the day Cass left home, she developed a gift. Whenever she woke up with an aching left hip, her mum would show up.”

“Like an early warning system,” Cass added.

“Oh, don’t you get on with her?” Harriet asked, settling on a stool. Cass wanted to tell her to leave because she smelled really good, and her smile lit up her face to the point of distraction.

“We’re just different.”

“Polar opposites,” Kendal interjected. “Chalk and cheese. Night and day.”

“I think she gets it, Ken.”

Harriet was nodding knowingly. “I totally understand. That’s how it is with me, my siblings, and our parents.”

Cass stared. “What? You’re telling me your parents aren’t liberal hippies like their kids?”

“Cassandra,” Kendal admonished.

Harriet threw her head back, laughing. “Not at all. In fact, I think you’d get on really well with them. Do you like snooker?”

“Um…”

“What about Antiques Roadshow ?”

“I’m not that old!”

“No, but you act it,” Kendal supplied.

“And how do you know my siblings are liberal hippies?”

“Just a guess.”

Harriet chuckled. “Well, I suppose you’re right. Kevin is an artist. He helped make the glass…ornaments in my shop.”

Cass flushed again and looked away. “I need more coffee.”

“And my sister,” Harriet ploughed on, “is a sex therapist to celebrities.”

Cass fumbled her espresso cup, almost dropping it to the floor.

“Diane is lovely,” Kendal replied. “Kevin, too. He’s so funny.”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be insufferable.”

“Kendal, we have customers,” Cass bit. This conversation needed to end.

“Where?” Kendal replied.

Dammit. Everyone was sitting down, happily sipping their coffees. “The stock needs counting.”

“You do it then. I’m having a five-minute break to talk to my friend.”

“Fine,” she shot, slamming the cup down far too hard before stalking off to the back to count the stock that didn’t need counting. “God, first expensive tea bags, and now a distracting strumpet with hippy siblings.”

“Who’s a strumpet?”

Cass clutched her chest. “Don’t sneak up on me.”

“Are you talking about Harriet?” Kendal leaned on the door frame.

Cass pretended to count the wooden stirrers. “Who’s watching the café?”

“Our employees. Now, come on, why did you randomly shout strumpet in the stockroom?”

“Never mind.”

“Do you know the meaning of the word? Because if you were by chance referring to our lovely new neighbour as a strumpet, then you’re being quite offensive.”

“I…no, I didn’t mean…”

“Strumpet is a woman who has many sexual encounters.”

“Oh, so my mother,” Cass replied.

“Jesus, you’re salty today. Do you need another day off?”

“I didn’t mean any offence.”

“So, you were talking about Harriet?”

“I…”

“You know…just because she runs an erotic tea shop doesn’t mean she sleeps around. And even if she did , that’s not for you to judge, Cass. I get you have strong opinions on this kind of stuff, but you can’t go around being like that to people. She doesn’t deserve it.”

“I meant to say seductress ,” Cass blurted, “not strumpet. I didn’t mean that. I got my words confused.” Oh Jesus, she was in a full-on panic.

“You think Harriet is a seductress?”

“No!”

Kendal pushed off the door frame with a giant smile. “Oh, Cass. You like her.”

“I do not!”

“I can see why. She’s gorgeous.”

“She’s too young.”

“Ah, so you’ve thought about it?”

Raking both hands through her hair, Cass slumped against the storage racks. “Kendal.”

“Cassandra.”

“Look, she’s pretty. But she’s young, and not my type at all.”

Kendal hip-checked her. “Maybe that’s a good thing. Change it up a little.”

Cass shook her head, trying to formulate a rebuttal.

“Before you completely shut the idea down, just think about it. I want you to be happy, Cass.”

“Whoa, whoa. I admitted she’s pretty, let’s not get carried away. And for your information, I’m very happy.”

“No, you’re plodding along. Have an adventure. Get a little naughty.”

“I don’t want to get naughty. I want to run my café and live my life exactly as it is without—”

“A seductress turning your head?”

“You’re insufferable!”

“Cassandra, my love?” Lolita Beaufort called from the front of the shop. Cass closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Today really sucked.

“Wow, the Lolita Hip strikes again.” Kendal grinned.

“I told you. It’s foolproof.”

“It’s never been that quick, though. You usually get at least a week to prepare.”

“The universe hates me. It’s karma for reporting Harriet.”

Kendal tilted her head. “That’s fair.”

Taking off her apron, Cass headed to the door. “Please tell me Harriet left.”

“Yeah, as soon as you walked off in a strop. Don’t worry.”

Ha! ‘Don’t worry.’ Hilarious .

All Cass could do was worry. She’d developed a weird crush-type thing on a woman too young and too different, and now her mother was here.

It was only a matter of time before she’d want to drag Cass to Ero-Tea-Ca and then her world would collide with Harriet’s again.

It was going to be an embarrassing horror show, and Cass was helpless to stop it.