Happy Holidays!
Loose Id has discounted Dharma Café from $6.99 to $3.99 when you purchase a copy from thier site between now and midnight Sunday night.
Link:
http://www.loose-id.com/specials/daily-deals/dharma-cafe.html
Here's a blurb and an excerpt:
Welcome to the Dharma Café, a restaurant like no other. There is no menu. The waiter, Samura, uses mystical powers to read what each customer needs, and the cook, Agatha, prepares the food with ingredients like love, hope, and courage.
The café is a refuge for the new busboy, Charlie, who was kicked out of home on his eighteenth birthday. Irresistibly drawn to Samura, Charlie soon discovers that the stern, formal waiter harbors a heartbreaking past and a dangerous secret.
Samura lives in fear that one day, the darkness inside him will burst forth to destroy all he loves. Now that includes brash, infuriating, delectable Charlie, who has broken through all Samura’s defenses and taught him to trust himself.
Just when Samura thinks it might be safe to reveal the truth, his worst nightmare walks back into his life: His father, Akio, the evil food sorcerer who runs the burger stand on the other side of town. Akio’s business is expanding and he wants his son to manage his new location, where the Dharma Café now stands.
It will take the combined resources of an ancient cook, a novice dishwasher, and a cursed waiter to fight Akio and protect the café. But when Samura succumbs to Akio’s magic, will it be enough?
Excerpt:
Until today, Charlie’s parents had always provided for him. He’d never known hunger, but by that same token, he’d never encountered so much delicious food in one place at the same time. And all kinds! Onion nan and beef pasties. Corn on the cob and cheese pierogi. Bags and bags of unspoiled food, if a bit mixed up.
His first hunger sated on fried chicken, egg rolls, and cupcakes, he waded chest deep among the black plastic bags, browsing. He felt fantastic. Dizzy with the pleasure of a full belly and the enticing prospect of more to come. Charlie ripped open a new bag to find a cannoli still with its cherry on top. He loved cannoli. It was his favorite dessert. He grabbed it, pulled a carrot stick free from one end, and raised it to his mouth. The world spun gently around him in a slow arc, but that was okay, because at the center of it all, of the whole universe, maybe, was him and his cannoli.
“Stop!”
Charlie ignored the voice in the distance. It was irrelevant. The cannoli drew him toward its creamy lusciousness with a slow, sweet power, like a riptide in a sea of molasses.
“Stop!”
Charlie opened his mouth.
“Don’t eat any more!”
Charlie could already imagine how it would taste—sweet and rich, with a hint of chocolate from the shavings. He extended his tongue.
Out of nowhere, a hand swept out and knocked the cannoli from his grip. It spun end over end, arcing through the air to land with a splat on the concrete.
For a moment, all he could do was stare in horror, numb with the suddenness of his loss. Paradise had been within his grasp, a place where everything felt good and tasted delicious and his troubles could not reach him. And now, all of that was reduced to a forlorn pile of crumbs and mud-smeared custard.
He turned to face the villain who had crushed his dreams.
Beside the Dumpster stood a guy about his age, only about a head taller. He was handsome, Asian, with dark hair and eyes and a serious expression. He wore black slacks and a black, long-sleeved tunic with a tab collar and buttons running up the front.
“My cannoli,” yelled Charlie. “You asshole!”
“That food is really bad for you.”
His calm demeanor only pissed Charlie off more. “Fuck off, health Nazi! I’ll eat all the pastry I want.”
“You don’t understand. You need to get out of there. Now.”
“No! This is my find!” Charlie backed up and clutched the bags around him. A caramel apple poked up through one of the tears in the plastic. It wasn’t like the cannoli, but it was better than nothing. He reached for it.
In one smooth movement, the Cannoli Killer vaulted the side of the Dumpster and wrested the caramel apple from Charlie’s grasp. “Cut that out,” he said and threw the apple after the cannoli.
“I’ll kill you!” Charlie threw a punch, but the other guy grabbed his wrist, pushed Charlie’s arm up, and ducked beneath it. The next thing Charlie knew, he was sprawled across strong, broad shoulders, anchored firmly by one hand gripping his wrist and another his knee. “Hey! What are you doing?”
His assailant tipped him over the edge of the Dumpster and let go. Charlie landed hard on his butt on the ground. “Ow! Who the hell do you think you are?”
The other guy leaped out of the Dumpster using the same fluid move as before. He stood over Charlie, his arms crossed. “I am Samura, the waiter of the Dharma Café.”
“You’re an asshole! I’m not doing anything. You’re just throwing this food away. Why can’t I have it?” Tears sprang to his eyes, and his voice wavered. Humiliation only made him angrier. Charlie jumped up. His stomach gave a sharp twinge of complaint. That spinning feeling was back, only now it wasn’t as nice. In fact, it was making him feel a bit sick. He needed something to settle his stomach. A bagel, peeping out from one of the torn bags, beckoned. He braced to hoist himself up over the edge.
“No.” A hand gripped his shoulder.
This guy didn’t know when to quit. “Leave me alone!” Charlie spun and swung his fist at the waiter. This time, he connected—a solid punch to the jaw.
Samura reeled backward. “Hey!”
Charlie charged him, ready to deliver another blow. “Destroy my cannoli will you, you—”
Charlie’s gut twisted. A wave of nausea rolled through his body. The world spun faster and faster, his vision narrowing until all he could see was Samura’s face, and then that too was sucked up by the roiling blackness.
* * * *
Samura’s opponent packed a wallop for someone so short and skinny. His jaw stung from that punch. Samura prepared to dodge the next blow, but just as the other guy was about to swing, his eyes rolled back, and he went limp. Samura leaped forward and caught him before he could hit the ground.
He lifted the stranger in his arms.
Judging by the guy’s fat lip and black eye, he’d been beaten up pretty bad recently. But apart from that, his clothes were clean and new, his blond hair trimmed and tidy. He looked like an ordinary, middle-class boy about Samura’s age, yet he carried about him an air of desperation that went deeper than the effects of food intoxication. Who is he, and why is he out here in the middle of the night scavenging for food?
The answers to those questions didn’t really matter. The very first thing Chef Agatha had taught Samura was that the Dharma Café existed for the purpose of helping people. Whatever sort of trouble this guy was in, whatever help he needed, they’d give it to him. Samura stared at the stranger’s face a moment more, mesmerized by the curves and planes of his features, then snapped out of it and carried him inside.
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