Risk

One Nervous Nellie

A look at the clock told him he only had another twenty minutes until he had to scoot downstairs to Starbucks to meet George. And he hadn't done a lick of work today. The only thing that might fit into twenty minutes was checking and returning voice mail, which he did with the confidence and authority of someone who went on lunch dates with attractive women. His voice sounded different to him, more self-assured. Did the brokers notice? He hung up the phone at about three minutes to 2:00, grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair and walked to the front door.

Janice looked at him quizzically. “You're going out again?”

“Yeah, I'm just meeting George for coffee.”

“Oh. Well, say hi for me.”

“Will do.”

There wasn't much elevator traffic on the way down at that time of day, he noted. He seemed to get down in record time, emerging into the underground Path and turning the corner towards Starbucks. By some miracle, George had chosen the right one and he waved to Martin from the line-up. Really? A line-up at 2:00? To buy five dollar coffee? This is why he never went out.

“Hey, big guy,” said George. “What kind of frou-frou coffee do you want?” He was wearing his usual Matrix Messenger shirt and bike shorts and had his bike seat hanging off his satchel at his back.

“One that doesn't cost five dollars.”

“Oh, you mean Tim Horton's coffee. I've already had one of those today.”

“They have to have regular coffee here.” Martin searched the menu board.

“Yeah, they do.” George reached the head of the line and moved forward to place his order. “One grande café misto with soy.”

“Jesus, that's regular?” said Martin. “Can I just have a regular coffee, please?”

The coffee lady was pressing buttons on her computer and smiled at him reassuringly. “Yes, of course. Mild, medium or bold?”

“What the what?”

“Do you prefer lighter or stronger flavor?” Her fingers hovered over the buttons, just waiting for him to utter his choice. Why did the coffee smell burnt? How could they get away with selling coffee made from beans they had burned? The menu board behind her was filled with options, none of which purported to be regular coffee. She also had big boobs underneath her green apron, which he was having a hard time keeping his eyes off. They were hypnotic.

“Medium, regular, run of the mill,” he managed to say as he pulled out his wallet.

“That'll be a Tall House Blend.”

“With cream and sugar. And I'm getting both of these,” said Martin, indicating George's coffee and his own.

“Cream and sugar is right behind you, sir. That'll be $7.87.”

He gave her the money, not caring at this point what it cost, as long as he could get away from the glare of her teeth and her tempting eye candy.

“Thanks, Martin,” said George. “C'mon over here with me. We wait by this little counter thingy. She just takes the orders.”

“Wow, this is a weird place. No wonder I never come here.”

“The coffee is great, though.”

“Twice as good as Timmies? Because it's twice the price.”

“Yeah, I guess. So, what’s your idea?”

He told him about his conversation with Jason, the claims adjuster, about the shop supervisor and the big contracts on the books. Their coffees arrived and they mixed and stirred them and then sat down at a small table by a wall of windows.