“So thanks for cleaning up.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, you’re living at Partment’s?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. Uh. So, ah, what about tea? Do you drink tea?”
“Sometimes.”
“I guess tea’s different.”
“It’s not as strong.”
“No, I don’t think it is,” Roy said as graciously as he could, “Even
though it’s got almost the same caffeine. The poetics are different,
somehow.”
“I never thought of it that way.”
“Well, have you ever tried Javanese tea? In Java they have a
saying: ‘Life is just a brief stop for a cup of tea.’ Why don’t you linger
a bit? I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“Okay,” she agreed, smiling mildly.
They were interrupted by an older couple who had just come
through the alleyway. “Hello,” they said.
“Hi,” said Roy. “If you’re trying to get to the beach, this doesn’t
go through.”
The man shook his head, “We’re looking for a place called
Undergrounds.”
His wife chimed in, “It’s supposed to be really quaint and
exclusive.” They handed him a folded section of newspaper.
Roy unfolded it and read. There was a feature in the Los Angeles
Times covering the most unusual hotspots around the city. Under the
heading “The Importance of Earnest Beans” Undergrounds was
reviewed featured as one of the most authentic and original
coffeehouses in town. The full-color photograph featured Sprout in
her nude-suit, surrounded by a Hasidic Jew and the dreadlocked
Niles. In the background, one could see Colin dancing on the bar.
Everyone was drinking from mugs emblazoned with the
Undergrounds logo. Roy could not believe his luck. They must have
just made it into the article at the last minute. There was one
problem: the caption identified Niles, not Roy, as Ray McOnion, the
proprietor.
More and more people trickled in. From that early hour until the
store closed that evening, Roy, Leona, Bennie, and Sprout barely had
the chance to take a break. Patrons came from all over the city, eager
to visit the “exclusive café with an edge” that the Times had so
ABYSSINIA
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