If You Think the Coffee Sucks, Wait Until You Meet the Owner
Chapter 7: Deal you can't refuse

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The door handle vanished under Chan's hand. He had a split-second of confusion over why he only felt air before he was rearing back from the dark shape walking into him. Thankfully, the other person pulled up short too, mere centimeters from disaster, and blinked at him.

Chan found himself standing eye to eye -- well, eye to mouth -- with Lee Minho, the two of them close enough for Chan to be subjected to the full brunt of his scent and his expression. During their short and sporadic acquaintance, Chan had seen Minho be polite, personable, mischievous, amused, and above all else, sleepy, but nothing ever like the anger that now drew the sculpted lines of his jaw tight and turned his scent as harsh as a lungful of smoke.

"Manager Bang," Lee Minho said, his beautiful cat eyes flashing, "You should consider being more aware of your surroundings."

Those words hit Chan with a pure, unadulterated blast of 'the fuck did you just say.'

Chan wasn't typically a fighter, but the coffee shop was his territory, he was in charge of it and the people that worked there, it was where he brought his omegas when he wanted to keep an eye on them, and Minho, for all his politeness, had posed a challenge to Chan's claim from the start. Now he was in Bang Chan's space, daring to express anger at him. None of this was enough to rile Chan up on a normal day, but on this day, when he'd already run his ass off to get here before his fucking boss pulled a vanishing act on him again, it was more than enough.

All of his mild-natured tolerance and well-honed tact flew out the window. He straightened his back, stretched out his neck, looked directly into Lee Minho's eyes, and stepped forward.

Lee Minho backed the fuck down.

The anger on his face dropped into panicked surprise and he withdrew a full step back into the coffee shop, his gaze submissively falling to the side. He caught himself before he retreated any further, expression morphing into shock at his own actions. That was for the best, because Chan had stopped too, equally stunned at himself. They stood frozen in the door way, gaping at each other. Lee Minho's alpha scent, unmasked by perfumes and bare of any pack marks, went thick and spicy-warm. His ears turned bright red.

Oh, thought Chan numbly.

Back when he was about 22 or so, Chan got approached by an older alpha at a friend's party. The alpha was charming, handsome, had a good nine years of age on him, and despite that, seemed to hang on Chan's every word. The attention was flattering, if a little confusing, and without thinking about it, Chan fell into the cute little brother behavior he'd picked up during his early years in Korea, when he was trying to endear himself to his upper classmates. At a certain point, after Chan had shared some detail or other about his life with his cute charms fully activated, the alpha let out an indulgent sounding chuckle and patted Chan's head, saying, "Aren't you a good boy?"

It had been like a light switch flipped on inside of Chan. Prior to that, Chan's opinion on submission -- and bottoming, for that matter -- had been a polite but firm "no, thank you". After being invited back to that alpha's hotel room for a very educational evening and morning after, he'd upgraded his stance to "lovely to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there." They exchanged numbers and met up twice more in the ensuing years, neither of them interested in perusing anything more serious than the occasional play date.

Standing in the coffee shop doorway in front of Lee Minho, Chan felt like he might be witnessing that light switch moment from the other side. It was... it was something.

Unfortunately, Minho didn't seem to appreciate whatever personal revelation he may be experiencing, because his jaw locked, his shoulders squared, and he didn't move out of Bang Chan's way. Again, on a usual day, Chan would've let it go for the sake of deescalating a situation, particularly one involving the owner of the entire fucking building, but he'd already gotten Lee Minho to give way to him once, and damn if he was going to be the one to withdraw after that. He set his jaw and lifted his chin and braced to hold his position against whatever Minho decided to do next.

The stand-off lasted all of a second.

"Excuse me, um, excuse me please, sir," someone spoke up from behind Lee Minho in a tentative voice.

The glare on Minho's face blinked out of existence and Chan's own building aggression dashed away. It hit them at the same time that they were two grown, professional men about to have an alpha dominance battle in the doorway of a coffee shop like a pair of wild wolves. Or a pair of hormone-addled teenagers that haven't learned manners yet.

The look between them turned from challenging to embarassed, and by unspoken mutual agreement, they stepped back to make space for the people trying to leave.

“Please excuse me,” Minho said, bowing to the omega and beta women and their two young children.

He held the door open for them and they hurried through out with an answering bow. They bowed again, this time in response to Chan’s bow on the other side. Once they were gone, Bang Chan peered into the shop and made a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“Please go ahead,” he said, wanting to prevent a repeat performance. And if it gave him a point in the ‘polite concessions for social harmony and mature self-conduct' chart…well, so much the bonus.

Lee Minho’s expression turned wry. He knew what Chan was doing, but he inclined his head ever so slightly and exited the coffee shop without fuss. No sign of the affronted — or submissive and confusingly aroused about it — alpha from earlier remained. Now that Chan's brain was fully engaged again, he could see Minho was wearing a black beanie with cat ears sewn on to it and pajamas patterned in cartoon flan puddings. The fact that he'd nearly squared up with a man in cute PJs left Bang Chan feeling all the more silly about the whole thing.

“Manager Bang,” Minho said mildly, “The next time you have a chance to speak to your boss, please inform him that avoiding me will only work for so long. I’ve been patient, but I won’t be forever.”

Chan faltered. “He’s been avoiding you?” That didn’t bode well. “I was just coming here to meet up with him. If you're willing to wait, I can have him come out to speak with you.”

Minho was already shaking his head. “I tried to approach him earlier, Bang Chan-ssi, and he said he had to leave for an urgent matter.”

Dread washed through Chan. “He left?!”

“Several minutes ago, out the back.”

“Fuck!” Chan dropped all propriety and sprinted into the coffee shop. He dodged around the — thankfully mostly empty — tables to the narrow end of the counter, planted his hand on the surface, and vaulted over it. The tips of his shoes clipped a stack of plastic cups, sending them teetering pecariously. Shouts echoed around him and Cho Hajoon’s shocked face flashed before his eyes. He ignored it all and darted out through the door into the back.

Owner Chen was not among the stock shelves. He was not in the break room or the office. Fuck. Fuck. In a last ditch effort, Chan went out into the back alley. He looked to the right. No one. He looked to the left.

Down at the other end of the alley, by the back door of the little bakery, Owner Chen towered over a slim, boyish figure with long black hair and flour-dusted blue jeans. The mystery bakery boy was handing something over to Owner Chen. The bigger man took it, stuffed it into his trouser pocket without looking at it, and reached to put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. The boy ducked his shoulder out of the way and folded his arms across his chest defensively, mouth moving around words Chan was too far away to hear. Owner Chen held up both hands in a placating gesture and responded with something unintelligible.

Nothing especially untoward was happening, but an uneasy, sick feeling twisted in Chan’s gut all the same. He booked it down the alley to them.

“Sir!” he shouted.

They turned to look at him. Bakery boy was frowning and for the first time, Chan was close enough to see his strikingly pretty features and the scatter of dark freckles across his cheeks and nose. Without another word, the boy pulled open the back door of the bakery and vanished inside, evading Bang Chan once again.

Owner Chen, meanwhile, broke into a jovial grin and headed over to meet Chan in the midst of the alley, apparently unconcerned with the departure of his previous conversation partner.

“Chan-ah!” he called. Chen Yeongsu was a tall man, topping Bang Chan by more than 15 centimeters, with a broad back offset by a hearty paunch. He was in his usual outfit of dark slacks and a patterned button down, the top buttons undone to show the gold chain necklace at his collarbone and the sleeves rolled up to show the large, red-brown splash of a birth mark on his right forearm. He was 20 years older than Chan, but showed little of it, only touches of gray at his temples. The stench of cigarettes and alcohol proceeded him.

Tobacco smoke was a powerful smell, one that clung to skin, hair, and clothes, obscuring the natural odors of the body and interfering with proper scent communication. In South Korea, it was common for alpha and beta men to pick up a smoking habit, but there were dedicated times and places for it. Bars, smokehouse, during after-work drinks, that sort of thing. Politeness dictated you remove as much of the smell as possible before going elsewhere in public.

Owner Chen stank of cigarettes and not just from a recent smoke, but from several smoking sessions layered on top of each other, each growing progressively more stale. It covered any olfactory clue to his emotions, his physical health, his pack relations, and even his dynamic. Bang Chan knew he was an alpha, because they’d worked together for years and, once again, the man didn’t used to show up to his place of business smelling like he’d spent a week at a bar, but if they’d met on the street, Chan wouldn’t have had a clue.

“What’s going on?” Chan asked bluntly, looking between Owner Chen and the back end of the bakery.

“Hm?” Owner Chen blinked at him, still smiling slightly, and glanced back over his shoulder. “Ah, that. I’ve been trying to work out an arrangement with them for ages. It’s a waste of everyone’s time that we’re competitors instead of allies.” He heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately, they’re too old fashion and stubborn for it. A real pity.”

Chan frowned, flaring his nostrils to take in more scent and only getting smoke on top of smoke on top of the cat pee and trash smell of the back alley. It wasn’t all that easy to determine if someone was lying by scent alone, but it would’ve be nice to get a hint of how honest Owner Chen’s disappointment was. The mystery bakery boy hadn't looked like anyone from the elderly pack that owned and ran the bakery. He looked like their grandchild who helped clean and stack flour sacks. The interaction between him and Owner Chen hadn't looked like a negotiation. It had looked like a shakedown.

That same sick feeling from earlier swirled in Chan's belly.

It couldn't have been that. Owner Chen was a miserly, unreliable guy with a touchy temper, but he wasn't a criminal. Chan had to have misunderstood what he was seeing. He only caught the tail end of it, after all.

"Well," Owner Chen said and loudly clapped his hands together, "Since we're both here, what had you so desperate to talk to me? I have to say, I expected to find the shop burned down after all that fuss."

Right. The reason he’d booked it over here during his off hours. Chan tore his mind away from his lingering unease and tried to remember what all he’d planned to say.

“Why don’t we go into the office?” He cast a pointed look at the back of the optometrist.

Owner Chen frowned and pulled a mobile out of his trouser pocket. “I don’t really have the time, Bang Chan. Just spit it out.”

Fuck. “I wanted to discuss my salary.”

Owner Chen’s mouth pulled down sadly. “Aaw, Channie…”

“I know the last time we discussed it,” Chan went on doggedly, “There were concerns about the economic downturn and I agreed,” Felt pressured, “to hold off until things picked up again. That was over a year ago, sir, and my workload has only increased since then. The shop is doing well and I’m a dedicated employee who’s brought value to the business. It’s been my pleasure to work for you, sir, and I hate to say this, but if you’re unable to agree to a higher pay rate, I’m going to have to look for a position with a more competitive salary.”

Silence fell. Bang Chan stared back at Owner’s frown, gaze focused down and slightly to the right of his eyes, out of respect for Owner Chen’s age. The man didn’t seem noticeably drunk or buzzed, despite his smell, which was something. Chan’s heart pulsed in his neck.

Owner Chen cleared his throat. “It’s not really that easy, Channie.”

Of course it wasn't.

“I understand, sir, but I will be leaving if we aren’t able to come to an agreement. You’ve been good to me and I would prefer to continue working here, but I —” Warmth spread up his neck and ears. “My pack is having a baby, sir, I have to prioritize supporting them.”

“Really now?” Owner Chen’s face lit up like a candle. “Well, well! Good for you, Channie, that’s exciting!” He gave Bang Chan’s back a hearty smack. “I remember what it was like with that first kid, whew. Didn’t stop pissing myself for a month. Turned out great, though. Kids are easy. They’ll practically raise themselves if you let ‘em.”

Another smack. “You’re gonna be a great father, Bang Chan.”

Of the half dozen or so people Chan had told about the baby, not one had reacted to the news with enthusiasm. They’d all been supportive, encouraging, and reassuring, without a doubt, but too worried for him and his situation to express unfettered excitement. They had good reason to be and he didn’t blame them, it just meant that each time he brought it up, he had to revisit his own uncertainties and insecurities all over again. Having anyone — even his deadbeat boss — congratulate him and tell him he was going to be good at parenting felt world changing.

Chan had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “Thank you, sir. I hope so.”

“I know so!” Owner Chen smacked his back again. “I’ll take you out for drinks sometimes to celebrate. This old man has brought up a couple of the little grubs himself, you know. I’ve got loads of helpful advice for you. But not now.”

He checked his phone again. “‘Cause right now, I gotta get moving. I’ll see ya —”

“Sir,” Chan said, shaking himself out of his moment, “If you’re unable to discuss my wages, then please consider this my official one month notice.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the envelope with his written resignation.

Owner Chen went dead still. He tried to make eye contact with Chan.

Adrenaline surged through Chan’s body, causing his skin to break out into goosebumps. He kept his eyes slightly averted, avoiding the direct challenge. It felt like Owner Chen was angry at him, or at least trying to make him take back his words, but it was impossible to tell exactly how angry he was with his scent so obscured. The lack of information was more intimidating than the alternative.

"It will be my pleasure to help you locate and train a new manager," Chan said.

“You’re making this real tough on me, Channie,” Owner Chen said, low and with the edge of a growl, “And after all I’ve done for you.”

He clicked his tongue.

Chan fought back the impulse to drop his eyes all the way to the ground, to apologize, to change his statement, to offer less harsh alternatives. He’d already done that way too many times where Owner Chen was concerned. His pack was becoming an actual pack, not just him and his one mate, and they were expecting a baby and he must step up.

“I’ve been a dedicated employee for many years, sir,” Chan said again. He held his hand with the letter steady. “I would like to continue as one, but unfortunately, the salary is no longer competitive.”

Owner Chen continued trying to stare him down for a long, horribly breathless moment. At last, Owner Chen let out a gruff groan.

“You leave me no choice, kid.”

Sweat broke out all over Bang Chan’s body. This was it. Either he'd finally get his raise or Owner Chen would accept his resignation. Then he'd have a month to throw himself at the job market in hopes of something better, because he'd penned his resignation letter without having another job lined up, like a desperate idiot.

Fear washed through him, but on it’s heels came… relief. The relief of finally reaching the end of a long, miserable trudge down a tiresome road. Bang Chan didn’t get a chance to examine the feeling further, though, because Owner Chen lifted his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and gestured Chan closer.

“C’mere, look at this,” he said, and turned the phone around to show Bang Chan the screen, "I was gonna make it a surprise, but you've pushed my hand."

On the screen was a photograph of a building interior. It was some sort of commercial space; there was a long counter framing the corner and a pair of disconnected display refrigerators pushed against the adjacent wall, their glass fronts still covered in plastic. The walls were stripped of paint and the top of the counter had been torn off, or not installed in the first place.

After letting Chan look for several seconds, Owner Chen swiped up on the screen, going to another picture of the same interior, this time showing an open space across from the counter with a wood floor only partially laid down. Floor to ceiling windows filled one wall, the view hidden by layers of paper. He swiped up again and again, showing other areas; the space behind the counter where a second counter equipped with sinks, outlets, and shelves stretched along the wall; a wall with the framework of a long seating area built against it; an empty room with stacks of construction supplies; another empty room with a counter and a sink along one wall.

"Can you guess what this is?"

Bang Chan could put two and two together. “You’re opening another coffee shop.”

It’s an effort to keep his voice even. All his constant working because there wasn’t enough money for another supervisor and there wasn’t enough money for a raise, but somehow, someway, there’s enough money for a second fucking coffee shop? Seriously?

Owner Chen started smirking. “I’m opening your coffee shop, Channie.”

Bang Chan just looked at him. It must not be the reaction he was hoping for, because the smirk fell and he stuffed the phone back into his pocket with a sharp gesture.

“Look, I get it,” Owner Chen said, “What are we opening up a new place for when we’re strapped for cash on this one, yeah? Well, my friend owns this building and the deal they’re offering me on the rent can’t be beat. Way better than this shit hole.” He swung a hand at the building hulking beside them. “I was planning to move the main shop over there to take advantage of it, but my friend — brilliant lady, I’ll introduce you sometime — my friend, she sits me down to go over the numbers and we figure that between shutting down the shop during the move and losing customers that can’t reach the new location, it’d be better money in the long run to have two shops.

“Of course it’s still not cheap,” he went on and Chan worked to keep the ‘no shit, dude’ off his face, “Gotta get all the renovations done and the new equipment put in. I’m pulling a lot of favors and doing a ton of the work myself to reign in the budget. That’s why I’ve been away so much.”

For two years? Chan swallowed the words down into his gut, where they mixed in the anger and the lingering fear and a terrible sort of curious hope until he felt faint with it. He shouldn’t put stock in anything Owner Chen said, especially not after he’d been strung along all this time, but the words “your coffee shop, Channie” kept echoing through his head.

“This plan is all well and good," said Owner Chen, "but the thing is, I’m getting on in years and I’m not all that excited to be training a new manager and staff. So I got to thinking, who would I trust to look after my new business and make sure everything is shipshape? Obviously, the answer is my best employee ever, Bang Chan. The problem is, I’m already asking a lot out of my little brother Channie, and not giving enough back. So I figure, since I’m going to need you to be in charge of setting up the new staff, why not just make you co-owner of the second store? Even fifty-fifty split on the profits aaannd... you get full say on how the shop is run. You make the hiring decisions, plan the menu, the promotions, everything. What do you say?”

Owner Chen held open both arms and waited.

What could Bang Chan say?

For a long time now, a big source of Bang Chan’s dissatisfaction with the coffee shop was his lack of control despite being the manager. It’s not like he ever expected to be a final decision maker — a manger wasn’t an owner, after all — but he at least deserved to be listened to. He had a lot of good suggestions for the shop, things he’d picked up from researching other successful coffee shops and cafes, like seasonal menu items and hosting community events. Not to mention the better service they could offer over all with a full staff. He regularly saw people leave without ordering during rush hours because the line was too long and slow. According to Jisung, their coffee wasn’t good enough and the layout of the shop wasn't spacious enough to justify wasting more than a couple minutes in line.

Getting not only more income from becoming a co-owner, but a say in how things were run? That was the dream deal. Leagues better than a pay increase while he continued to do the exact same work under the exact same restrictions every single day.

There was just one problem.

“When is the second shop supposed to open?” Chan asked.

The excited, anticipatory expression on Owner Chen’s face went tellingly flat.

“You know, these things take time,” he hedged, “Work is still being done and it’s like I said, I’m doing most of it myself. Sure, it might take a few more months, maybe two, maybe five, but that’s hardly anything at this point.”

Chan opened his mouth.

“You’re not having the baby tomorrow, Channie,” Owner Chen said, voice turning sharp, “It’s not gonna kill you to give it a little more time. Have some sympathy for me here, yeah? I just found out my manager is planning to leave me without any warning and on top of that, I’m late for an appointment.”

Chan locked his teeth together and breathed out through his nose, pushing through the sick tangle of feelings that swamped him. It was nearly the same words Owner Chen had used when their last supervisor quit over three months ago. At that time, the words had made sense and been technically true. That supervisor had left in the middle of her shift and returned the next day to hand over her letter, refusing to work the final month even though it'd mean fighting Owner Chen for her severance pay. The transition had been hectic and difficult and for those initial days, Bang Chan had felt betrayed. He'd relied on her, seen her as an ally. Then she left.

At home, Jisung said "Good for her", but when Owner Chen showed up two days later, he cried "how dare she, that's not fair." It'd been so like Chan's own feelings that he hadn't been able to argue when Owner Chen complained and moaned and demanded Chan's sympathy. Bang Chan had caved and agreed to hold out "just a few weeks" until Owner Chen "had the cash flow" to hire someone new.

Those "just a few weeks" had already become three months without his noticing. Three fucking months.

Exhaustion rolled through him suddenly, so all-encompassing Chan wanted to drop down and put his head on the ground. He’d genuinely thought he was going to get ownership over his own shop for a minute there, hadn’t he? Hah, not even a full shop; just being offered half of one was still enough to get his hopes up.

“Sir,” Bang Chan said and he sounded tired even to his own ears, “If you ever want to open that second shop, you’re going to need a full staff for it, in addition to a new manager ready to replace me at this location.”

“Uh…" Owner Chen blinked, looking thrown for a loop, "Yeah, well, that's why I'm saying it's gonna take a hot minute to --"

“And if I leave," Chan continued, atypically blunt, "You will also need to hire and train new managers and supervisors to replace me."

"Sure, but --"

"In either case, sir, you will have to hire someone new. Therefore, I propose that you hold on to my resignation letter --" Chan lifted the envelope. "-- while I assist you in finding and training a new manager. One month from now, we can revisit the subject of my employment and discuss the second coffee shop."

Owner Chen tried once again to stare him down, but Chan no longer felt nervous or guilty. Just tired. He kept his hand steady and his gaze fixed.

At last, Owner Chen let out an explosive "Aish!" and flapped his hand. "Enough already! I give! I give! Put the letter away, Channie, all right? Let's go in and adjust your salary."

An hour and a half later, Bang Chan's wage had been raised to the market rate for food service managers, a very startled but grateful Cho Hajoon had been promoted to supervisor, and Chan had permission to hire two additional part-timers. Just like that.

It was both more and less than he'd asked for. His rate was still on the low end given his experience, but it was significantly better than before and he was finally getting the extra help he needed. Chan kept waiting to feel relieved. To feel grateful. To feel like he'd finally stood up for himself and accomplished something.

By the time everything was settled and Owner Chen had slipped out the back with promises of getting Chan those celebration drinks later, not one of those feelings had manifested. Instead, Bang Chan lingered out on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop, wondering to himself; "was it really worth all that bullshit?" In an hour, his next shift would start and he would be serving all the same old drinks in the same old cluttered coffee shop while the same old deadbeat boss refused to let anything be changed or updated.

He messaged the group chat with Jisung and Jeongin, letting them know how things went. Neither criticized him for not pushing for more. Neither accused him of settling for less than he deserved. In fact, both were excited and congratulatory, with Jisung praising him for managing to get that miserable tightwad to hire more people. Bang Chan tried not to deflect the praise too much, no matter how much it felt like he'd barely done anything at all.

Jisung asked him if he was coming back home. Chan said no, he'd stay at the shop and get an early start on bringing Cho Hajoon up to speed. They traded a few more comments and kiss emojis (mostly from Jisung), then Chan pocketed his phone. He looked at the coffee shop door without opening it.

Had it really only been a couple of hours since his encounter with Lee Minho? It felt like longer. The memory of Minho’s dilated eyes and spicy-warm scent came back to him. Chan bit his lower lip. Now wouldn’t that just be asking for trouble? If Seo Changbin was out of his league, where did that put wealthy lay-about Lee Minho, who was an alpha besides? Lee Minho, with his surprisingly dorky, big toothed smile, and his apparent conflict with one Chen Yeongsu.

The owner of the building and the owner of the business being at odd spelled only trouble for everyone involved. Bang Chan really, seriously hoped that whatever was going on between them wouldn’t explode messily over all the coffee shop.

But speaking of beautiful people Owner Chen had conflicts with.

Chan turned away from the coffee shop and headed up the street to the little corner bakery. Going inside was like lying face down in a pile of cookies. The elderly beta woman at the counter recognized him and waved him over to be scolded for not visiting her more often. Her eyes went wide once he was in scent range. She shamelessly called over another elderly woman — one of her alpha mates — and the two watched him expectantly while asking how he and his pack were doing.

He took the hint and told them about the baby. After several excited exclamations, they shouted the news to their alpha and omega mates back in the kitchen, and then plied him with some frankly alarming warnings about child birth and a free box of their special caramel fudge brownies.

The entire time, he kept peeking at the open door that led into the kitchen, but he couldn’t spot hide nor hair of the mystery bakery boy with his array of freckles and pronounced cupids-bow. Was he okay? Did he need help with anything? The questions haunted Chan. He tried twice to ask if they had a young man with freckles on staff, but was cut off both times. Eventually, Chan was politely but pointedly encouraged to make way for the other customers and there was nothing else for him to do but take his boxes of cookies and free brownies and go.

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