As Conor crossed in front of a spice shop next to the GrizlHut a mental hook pulled at his chest, causing him to step into the aromatic store and spend a second browsing the herbs. It was strange the desire to be in here, but it felt like somewhere he just need to be.
His hand found a few dried seasonings including basil, oregano, rosemary, thyme, and marjoram. He couldn’t fathom what he might be able to do with them but headed back to the GrizlHut with his quick purchase.
As he entered the back he saw Cara mixing a huge pot of fresh dough. Conor’s mouth went dry at the thought. He had tried the GrizlHut’s dough the other night and to say it was bland was an understatement.
But according to Cara, Pops insisted that recipe was a staple that had been in his family for generations.
‘Generations of dead people with no tastebuds,’ Conor thought inwardly.
After he clocked in, he set his bag down and returned the till pouch to Pops.
“Go use your muscles for something useful and take over for Cara. That dough is not going to mix itself,” Pops ordered. “And I am docking an hour from your pay, you lout! Did you get lost going to the bank, or just take a nap along the way?” Pops shouted as Conor reached for the giant paddle Cara was using to mix the dough.
“Doesn’t Pops have a mixer for this?” he asked her with a cheeky grin.
“Yea, you.” She chuckled, lightly touching his shoulder before sliding off to prep other ingredients.
Conor glanced around and realized no one was watching him. He paused, reaching for his new stash of spices to toss in a handful of each. He had never been one for baking so he hoped this worked, but it already smelled divine compared to the normal cardboard pops called their pizza crust.
“What the hell are you doing?” hissed Cara from behind him. Conor almost leaped over the mixing bowl as he spun.
“First week on the job and you’re changing the recipe?!” she fumed, keeping her voice low so as to not alert Pops. “If Pops catches you, he’ll skin you alive!”
“Oh, come on, you know the stuff he has us make is cardboard!” Conor’s heart was still pounding as he set his spices back on a shelf and placed a pot over them.
“If the customers complain about the pizza tonight, it's your head!” she hissed, sticking a finger in his face.
“Ok, ok. If they don’t like it, I promise to never spice things up again,” Conor said, holding his hand up in surrender.
Cara cracked a smile despite her efforts to hide it and went back to her tasks.
‘What was I thinking, Changing the recipe?’ Conor chided himself as he tried to figure out what had come over him. That was twice today he had made rash decisions. Yet, somehow, he knew he was doing the right thing.
Shortly before the dinner rush began, Mr. Nuri stopped by with a packet of papers for Conor to sign to sign. Pops came out of his office for the evening just as Conor was heading to greet Mr. Nuri.
“As I live and breath, Mr. Nuri in my shop? What an honor, What an honor! Any thing I can personally help you with sir!”
“He is just here to see-” Conor began but Pops cut him off.
“Boy, get back to work. The great Mr. Nuri in my shop? I will handle this myself.” He turned to Mr. Nuri again. “What can I get for you tonight?”
“A few minutes with Mr. Brantley there is all I need, good sir.”
“The boy? What has he done this time? Drunk driving? I knew there was a reason he didnt have a car! I am sure your client will win. Its a shame this lout is basically penniless.”
Conor glowered at Pops but seeing Mr. Nuri’s rising indignation he tried to intervene. “Right, well if our esteemed guest needs some of my time, may I take my fifteen minute break?”
“Why not. Its not like you are worth anything in the kitchen anyway. And Mr. Nuri, dont hesitate to ask if you need a character witness against him!” Pops said.
Conor let Mr. Nuri to a table in the corner before Pops or anyone else could make more of a scene.
Mr. Nuri explained each document and had Conor sign several including a business power of Attorney. After the paperwork was done, Conor handed him both of the gold dragon coins. “If you dont mind, it might be best you hold on to the other, for safe keeping. At this rate I am likely to give it to the next person on the street who asks for money.” Conor figured that at least Mr. Nuri could keep his mother in law from finding it the next time she went snooping in his room.
Mr. Nuri chuckled. “I trust Celia to guide you. Simple acts like that have turned into untold fortunes and blessings when Celia is involved.” He assured Conor that moving forward, he or one of his senior assistants would personally handle any future business for him.
“One last thing, If I may Mr. Nuri.”
“Of course, Mr. Brantley, ask away.”
“A gold dragon is a bit much for me to suddenly have. But I really do need to make an impression on Jess. Any chance you could break that for me and maybe give me enough that I can say I got a big tip?”
Mr. Nuri smiled and pulled out his own wallet and slid several bills across the table.
Conor counted out 100 dragon notes, worth about one full nights pay.
“Ask any time, Mr. Brantley. The rest I will keep safe, unless you have need or want to invest in something.”
After Mr. Nuri left, Conor thought about the strangeness of it all.
Today he had turned twenty-five, inherited a mysterious pendant, and two gold dragon coins worth about one year’s salary for him at the pizza joint.
For many in the kingdom, it was a windfall to get at once, but on the whole, not a ton of money. And he had spent half of it on a random business venture with a guy he had never met!
He must be going insane!
Cara came out to clean some of the tables and glanced at him as Mr. Nuri left. “Who was that?”
“My lawyer. Don’t worry about it.”
“Lawyer? Divorce?” she said sympathetically.
Conor grunted. “Not that I know of, at least not yet.”
“Where is your manager!” said an excited patron, who have been enjoying her pizza quietly at her table.
‘Uh-oh,’ Conor thought. ‘What now?’
“Umm, is there something I can assist with, Miss? ” sweat beaded on his forehead as he worried over what he had done earlier.
Was there something wrong with the pizza?
Cara slipped up beside him, looking worried as well.
“Yes! What did you change?! I’ve been coming here for years cause this is cheap food. But tonight… tonight the pizza was amazing!” Her face shone with happiness.
Conor couldn’t believe what he had heard, and was slumped in defeat for a second until Cara squeezed his shoulder.
“Amazing. Conor! She says it was amazing!” Conor opened his eyes to see the lady and Cara beaming at him.
Pops came out of his office then, “What's the commotion about?”
“Sir, your new recipe is a real hit!” the lady exclaimed. “Please be sure to keep using it!”
“New recipe? Lady, I haven’t changed my family recipe in 25 years and have no intention of changing now!” declared Pops, “Nothing wrong with the tried and true.”
The lady frowned at him. “If it goes back to that old cardboard tomorrow, now that we know what you can make, I can promise your bank account will know the difference,” she declared before heading back to her table to finish enjoying her pizza.
“What did you do?” glared Pops.
“Just added a few herbs sir,” Conor explained. Then thinking fast he said, “The spice shop next door is selling it, something called”- he paused trying to think of a name for his creation, “spice of life” he hedged, “I just thought...”
“Don’t think, you are not paid to think. You are here to follow orders, make pizza and clean. And don't you dare touch my recipe, Conor. You may be the owner’s son-in-law, but the whole kingdom knows how worthless you are. Your mother may have been noble and respected but the apple fell far from the tree. You are trash and have proven it every day of your life. Celia help us all.” Pops tossed his boney hands in the air as he returned to his office only to realize the door was already locked and he had been heading out for the night. He stormed off past Conor and out the doors.
Cara stared dumbly after Pops before glancing at Conor and busting out in laughter. They both smiled at each other before returning to the pizza line.
Word spread fast of the new recipe at the GrizleHut and when Conor arrived to work the next day, Cara was practically pulling her hair out as she tried to answer a constant stream of phone orders for that evening.
She glanced frantically at him and pointed at another phone at the far end of the bar where he too started taking orders for over an hour.
The next morning, Pops arrived shortly before noon, and they presented him with over three hundred orders for the evening.
“Will we even have enough dough?” he wondered aloud.
“Pops, they all want the new crust,” Cara explained.
“New crust? You mean those spices Conor dumped in actually sold?”
“Yes, and people Can’t get enough of it. You could likely sell just the spices,” she said seriously.
Conor perked up at that.
Pops rubbed his wispy white hair. “I just don’t know about this. Where am I supposed to get enough spice to do something like that?”
Conor answered, “Well sir, if you let me go next door, I believe the spice merchant might be able to make more of his special recipe. It might take him some time, but I think he can get us some by tonight. I still have some from yesterday’s batch.”
Pops grumbled, “I hate change.” He scratched his head again and looked at Cara. “what do you think?”
Cara smiled at Pops, “I know we’re all hesitant to trust Conor, but last night’s response speaks for itself. Also, if needed, we can always go back to the old recipe easily enough. I think it depends on what this new spice costs.”
Pops frowned and glared at Conor again. “How much did you add to my overhead? This new spice isn’t going to put me out of business is it?”
Conor thought fast about what he had spent, but just before he said what he had paid, that now increasing familiar tug around his neck and near his chest made him pause.
Higher?
He finally made up his mind and added some costs to the price and gave Pops a number roughly double what he had spent. Honestly, the spices were less than a few iron pence each. The cost was so negligible that a handful of flour was worth more.
Pops was pleased to hear that the new spices were reasonably priced and agreed to let Conor negotiate for more. “Be quick about it boy. We have a lot of prep for tonight!”
Conor slipped over to the Spice shop and spent a few minutes negotiating with the shopkeep.
After showing him one of his own spice shaker bottles, and the proportions, Conor handed him a card with Liam Nuri’s number on it. Conor trusted Mr. Nuri would handle the rest.
Perhaps this small bit of business would earn him a little commission in the future. Anything would help.
Conor came back to find both Pops and Cara manning the phones again.
He smiled to himself before launching into making as much dough as the shop could handle. He could not remember the last time he felt good about being able to create something that others actually appreciated.
He briefly wondered if Mr. Cochan would stop by after hearing about the sudden success. Perhaps it might just improve the family’s attitudes toward him.
Conor arrived home later again, to find the lights off in their small apartment. He sighed. Four years, and he and Jessica were no closer to having a real relationship. These new hours were not going to make that any easier either, not that she’d care. He drifted into an uneasy sleep. Dreams of wings beating the air as he drifts through warm air currents and floated through the clouds captivated his imagination. The next morning, he awoke to Jessica again wrenching the covers over his bed. “Up! Family meeting today.” She declared while looking at Conor with a disapproving frown. “What does that have to do with me? I thought most of the Cochan family preferred I never show my face around them.” Conor complained, desperately searching for any scrap of warm cloth he could find. “Isn't the twenty-fifth birthday of the faithful followers of Celia supposed to be symbolic? We are expecting a representative from the temple to deliver any inheritance to you.” Jess scorned. “What does
In the company board room, the Cochan family gathered around a small man in long brown robes. This was the newly appointed Dragon priest who had arisen to the post just a few days ago. The previous priest had died from old age, sadly. Conor’s mother had been the last true high priestess, with the current clergy seemingly unable to carry the same wisdom she had possessed. When Conor walked in, the priest perked up and immediately walked over to him. “Ah, brother Brantley! It is good to see you. I am sure you don’t remember me, but I served under your mother many years ago. She was a wise and honored priestess.” The monk even bowed to Conor, and Jessica’s whole family became tense. None of them liked seeing Conor praised. Mr. Cochan cleared his throat. “Hehem, Mr. Arios, we have gathered the family and now our beloved Conor is here. He is now of age to receive the blessing of the temple. What can you present?” Just then, Kelan Benedict walked in. “Sorry I am late.” Conor frowned.
As the weeks went by, Conor found himself eager to head to the GrizzlHut each day. Cara’s smile was so much more infectious and welcoming than the nagging he received at home from Jessica, or the outright abuse his mother-in-law, Cynthia Cochan, rained down on him. Cynthia seemed to think that Conor owed the family such a debt that he was now a family slave. She loved to order him around even in their apartment. Work at Grizlhut was definitely a welcome escape! One day, Cara and Conor were both scheduled to be off by 4 p.m. “Got any plans this afternoon?” Conor asked. “Yes, actually. Matter of fact… you should come. I think it would be right up your alley.” “What is it?” “You’ll just have to wait and see. At the end of the shift, Cara had Conor ride with her, and they drove to a run-down part of town. Kids were playing basketball in the street, and jumping rope. “What is this place?” “It’s what’s left of the Jinstain Community Center. The Temple of Celia funded it up until
It seemed Kelan Benedict's warning had opened the Cochan family's eyes to the possibility of Jessica's potential, especially as a peace offering to Kelan. Over the past few weeks, Cynthia had suggested divorce from Conor more than once. Each time Mr. Cochan was away on business, Cynthia would invade their apartment and try to broach the topic with Jessica. Jessica, however, staunchly refused to be a trophy for Kelan. But Conor knew deep down that it was not out of love for him that she clung to their marriage, but simple fear of Kelan. One night, during one of Cynthia’s invasions of their apartment, she ordered, “Conor, be quick and finish the dishes and get out! Jessica and I have things to discuss.” As Conor dejectedly took to his task, he heard his wife start in on an old refrain. “Mother, let me marry Nyman, and then I will consider divorcing Conor,” Jessica pleaded, still feeling like she was walking on eggshells with her mother. “Silly girl, the Banks family could never s
Conor awoke the next morning with a new sense of purpose. Jessica had been his wife for four years, and he had not lived up to his end of that contract. Any hostility Jessica leveled at him had been earned by his own failures and his own lack of care for her need for security and financial stability. It was time to change that. He crept out of the room, but found that Jessica had apparently awoken before him and already left for the family offices. He ate a quick breakfast of dry cereal and then called Mr. Nuri. “Yes, Mr. Bentley?” “Can we have a business meeting? With Mr. Miros if possible?” “I will have a car pick you both up. My office will have a meeting room available within an hour.” Conor was amazed at Mr. Nuri’s efficiency and dedication. He had meant what he said when he had told Conor he could call any time. *** An hour later, Conor found himself stepping out of a sleek black car, staring up at an impressive forty-story glass building, with a sweeping arch across the
Conor had the driver drop him off at the Cochan Mall on the southeast end of the city’s central square. Mr. Miros was waiting for him near the stone lions at the mall entrance. “These will make amazing stock photos! Many ads can be made with something like this!” exclaimed Miros. “That is excellent Mr. Miros!” “Just call me Peter, after all, we are about the same age. It just feels weird to be called Mr. Miros all the time,” he chuckled. “Fair enough. In that case, call me Conor.” Conor shook hands with Peter and then pointed down a side alley. “If you come over this way, I think you will be impressed.” Down the side of the mall, a huge mural had been graffitied onto the wall, depicting massive dragon wings. If one stood before them, you could almost feel as if the wings sprouted from your shoulders and prepared to sweep you into the sky. “This… This right here will sell the world over,” Peter exclaimed, already snapping photos. Conor walked up to the wings, placing his hand i
As they turned to leave, a shrill voice pierced the air, “That wouldn’t be the infamous Conor Brantley, would it? Does that bastard think he can show his face here after failing so publicly with Celia’s Herbals? And what is he doing in a suit like that! After his losses, he’s likely stealing it!”Conor sighed inwardly and turned to face the source of the voice. A girl, overly made-up and dressed head to toe in garish pink, stood clinging to the arm of none other than Nyman Banks.“Hello, Nyman. I see you have a new girlfriend,” Conor said coolly, his tone indicating he was ready to leave.Nyman smirked, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Conor, I hope you’re treating Jessica well. And yes, this is Natalia Silverton. So, tell us, Conor, are you stealing that suit, or have your prospects finally turned?”Before Conor could respond, Peter attempted to diffuse the tension by interjecting, “Well, Conor is working with me on a photo shoot.”Nyman laughed derisively. “HA! Okay, Conor. So, you’re
An hour later, Peter walked in to find the chair empty and Anthony grinning from ear to ear. “You brought me a challenge, my boy, and I do love a good challenge.” “Where is Conor?” he asked quizzically. “O Conor, Dear, come show us that devilishly handsome self of yours.” Conor stepped out from behind a screen near the rear of the shop and Peter was taken aback. Conor was thrilled as he watched a riot of emotion play over Peter’s face. “So, what do you think?” Conor asked, giving a bit of a spin. His shaggy hair had been neatly trimmed with a waved part to the right. His dark hair glistened as a light breeze from a nearby fan teased it. His beard had also gone from a scraggly unkempt thing to a sharp-looking close cut. “If your wife wasn’t pleased with you before, she might have to pause any arguments just to take it all in! Or at least be willing to give you a shot, just on looks alone!” Peter chuckled. Conor was pleased. The idea of improving himself and making Jessica happy w