The Redemption of Rico D'Angelo

She touched her face. ‘What?’

What was he doing? He didn’t have time to consider a woman’s finer attributes. He didn’t have time for romance. Certainly not with an employee. He was tired, that was all. He brushed a hand across his eyes. He hadn’t had a holiday in...

Ten years.

‘Worry about budgets goes with the territory,’ he bit out.

Behind the blue of her eyes her mind clearly raced. She had lovely eyes—not too big and not too small, but perfectly spaced and—

He dragged his gaze away. This woman didn’t miss a trick, and he would not be caught out staring at her again.

‘Look, this is a charity cafе, right? It’s a programme to help train disadvantaged youth and place them in the workforce, yes? Then there must be huge scope to get the community behind it.’

‘Every single charity and community service initiative can make that exact same claim.’ He sat back. This was one of the major problems he faced—getting good exposure for his programmes, finding backing and sponsorship. ‘The community is feeling a bit...’ he grimaced ‘...a lot “charitied out”. People only have so much to give.’ And they were asked to give to so many different causes.

He understood that. He even empathised. But if he could just get a few more key players interested... The problem was, his kids weren’t cute and cuddly. They were scowling, slouchy, smart-mouthed teenagers. That didn’t do him any favours in the advertising stakes.

Neen tapped the table with her pen. ‘Earlier in the year there was a family whose home was severely damaged by a storm. Unbeknownst to them it wasn’t covered in their insurance.’

He scowled. Rotten insurance companies.

‘One of the local radio stations put a call out to tradesmen for help and they were flooded with offers. Apparently the advertising the tradesmen received was worth the work they did. We could do something similar. We could create a bewitchingly irresistible press release and send it in to the station of our choice.’

That had potential. ‘I have a contact at one of the radio stations.’ His heart started to thump. If they could get a fumigator and an electrician free...

For a moment he was tempted to seize her face in his hands and kiss her. He took a gulp of his drink instead.

She shimmied in her chair, her eyes bright. ‘Do you have a contact at the local television station?’

Why wasn’t he the one bubbling over with ideas? Once upon a time... He shook the thought off. ‘You’re thinking of getting someone to interview me, you, some of the staff?’

‘I’d prefer to remain in the background.’

He remembered her ex-boyfriend and beneath the table his hand clenched. ‘Right.’ He frowned. ‘Look, I’ve spoken to the press a lot, Neen, and I have no problem with that, but some of the boys are barely articulate.’ If they did a television interview they’d need to show the boys to their advantage or they’d be doing more harm than good.

Her lip curled. ‘Aren’t you sick of all those earnest ad campaigns?’

He shrugged. All he knew was if you stuck a puppy, kitten or a baby in front of a camera you received ten times more funding.

‘Why couldn’t we do something fun? Use humour?’

He recognised the fire in her eyes and momentarily envied it. ‘Like...?’

She suddenly laughed, and it hit him that she smelled of the crisp alpine air that could be found in Tasmania’s Southwest National Park. A place he hadn’t visited in over...

Ten years.

He swallowed and kept his eyes on Neen’s laughing face until the darkness started to dissolve and lose its hold.

‘Why couldn’t we show a motley bunch of teenage boys walking the streets and looking threatening and scary, with a voiceover that says, “Do you want these boys prowling your street?” There could be elderly people rushing into their homes and locking their doors in a really over-the-top way. And then we could pan to the cafе, with all the boys gainfully employed and serving coffee and scrummy cake to all those previously scared residents. The voiceover could then say something along the lines of, “Help us get them off the streets and gainfully employed”.’

Rico had to laugh at the picture she’d created.

‘We wouldn’t show them actually doing anything illegal. There’d just be a whole gang of them, and they’d be pushing and shoving each other and yahooing like teenage boys do. For some reason people seem to find that intimidating.’

But she didn’t?

He remembered the way she’d bellowed at Monty on the beach and shook his head. Of course she didn’t. He frowned, though, when he remembered the way she’d jumped when that car had backfired. Was that just to do with her ex?

‘It’d generate interest.’

‘It’d cost valuable money...and time.’

‘But if it brings attention to your cause...?’

She had a point.

‘Anyway, let’s move on. As far as an advertising campaign goes, that’s your lookout.’

He marvelled at her energy.

‘I think once we have the occupational health and safety approval we should organise a working bee. We could do the whole radio call-out for help, but can you convince your teenagers to work for nothing?’

‘Some of them, yes.’ Some of them desperately wanted work, wanted a chance. More than he could possibly employ this time around.

‘If they help paint and decorate the cafе I expect they’ll start to feel invested in it. Especially if we reward them with free pizza.’

‘That’s an excellent plan.’

She sipped her beer. ‘And one you’d already thought of, I see.’

It was something of a relief to know she didn’t have a monopoly on good ideas. ‘Promise teenage boys free food and they’ll be there—wherever there is.’

She laughed. ‘This is probably something else you’ve already considered, but...’

‘But?’

‘We will get tradesman who’ll offer us their time free of charge—painters and carpenters—if we put a call out. Are there any likely suspects among your boys who’d welcome an apprenticeship in those areas?’

He was already on it, but... ‘Darn, you’re good.’

‘I also think we need to build up hype for the cafе’s opening. Could we raffle or auction tickets to attend lunch on our opening day?’

He rested his elbows on the table. ‘I think it’s a great idea, but I still want to open the cafе a week Wednesday.’

She pursed her lips, and he almost laughed at the way she hauled in a breath.

‘So we’re going to be busy next week, huh?’