Page 13 of His Rise

He leans out, “Q’est qui ce passe, mon ami?” He gives me a lazy grin. “S’appnin, yo?”

Chapter Seven

Cyntia

I look out of the curbside window as the cab rolls on the soft, bouncy suspension, and he jumps in. Slides in beside me. Slams the door like he’s in an action movie.

Over his shoulder, the driver chuckles as he says, “We going to the same place still, Mam’selle?”

“Still my fare, Didier, still my ride.”

He looked pleased when I called him by name. He knew I read it off his license. But it’s always nice to be recognized.

“Allons-y!” He grins as he guns the engine and rocks us back into the soft, worn bench.

I sigh.

Then I turn to him. “So. What are you going to do about it, Joe?” I watch his face. “Are you going to show me how strong you are?” I can feel his breath shudder. “Strong, hard Joe.” His lip tightens and trembles. “Hard hot Joe.”–wait. “That’s it!” I tell him, breathless.

“That’s what?” His jaw sets.

“That’s the name for your coffee chain.”

“It’s got a name.”

“Yeah. It’s got a weak name. Hot Start. That’s why The Morning Rise is beating your ass all over the country.”

“You think The Morning Rise is such a great name?”

“No. It’s just slightly better than yours. The coffee is about as good, like all the chains, and the name is more fun. And it’s easier to remember.”

“Okay. Say you’re right.”

“Strong, hot Joe.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“No…” I grab his hand. “Oh–” A bolt like electricity flashes through me. My eyes almost roll back into my head.

I’m searching his face, studying his eyes, trying to see a sign that he felt it too. He must have. Surely.

“I mean, that’s… oh…” I’m momentarily woozy. “Er…” I swallow and take a breath, my eyes flitting from his mouth to his eyes. My chest zinging.

I tell him, “That’s what you should call the chain.” My breath is coming back under control.

“Strong, Hot Joe.”

I squeeze his upper arm. God, it’s like steel and it’s huge. Everything about him is.

He says, “It’s really not a good name for a coffee chain.”

I’m holding it together by a thread. But I’m right. I know I am.

“It is, though. Listen: ‘Wanna get coffee?’ ‘Where you going?’ ‘Strong Hot Joe’s.’ See? ‘I want some of Strong Hot Joe’s.’ It’s a killer.” There’s a light in his eyes. I know he’s getting it. I squeeze his forearm. Damn. that’s big, too. “It’s fun. ‘Strong Hot Joe’s.’ Run that as a radio ad, nationwide. It will cost you next to nothing and you’ll clean up.”

“With your coffee secret.”

“Yeah… Not so fast on that.”

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