Contributor: Jerry Guarino
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Jerry Guarino’s short stories have been published by dozens of magazines in the United States, Canada, Australia and Great Britain. His latest book, "50 Italian Pastries", is available on Amazon.com and as a Kindle eBook. Please visit his website at http://cafestories.net
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“Who is
this person?” Said Armen, the owner of the new bakery. Armen
looked around at his customers, sitting at café tables, drinking tea
or coffee and eating desserts.
Meanwhile,
John was on his computer in the second floor apartment next door. He
was playing a game of hide and seek with Armen.
“Guess
it’s time to make another appearance” said John. Whenever the
café was busy, John came in, bought a cookie, hung out a while and
checked in, but since he also checked in from his apartment, Armen
had no idea whom the Duke of Yelp was.
The
modern coffee house was not a bohemian or flower child flophouse.
Instead of a bearded man playing a guitar, there was jazz and spa
music coming out of ceiling speakers. Tie-dye cloth and beanbag
chairs gave way to expensive leather furnishings expertly matched to
create an ambience of warmth and relaxation. At least a dozen people
were connected by phone, laptop or iPad, tapping away while talking
with companions; heads bobbed and eyes darted up and down. Although
Armen was playing catch up, it seemed all young people were skilled
in tech use. He just hoped none of them were hacking into his
computer to get credit card information.
“Great
shortbread,” John said to the cashier. “I’ll take four.”
The
dark haired girl with Mediterranean looks selected four unbroken
cookies and put them in a bag. “Will that be all?” she said
smiling.
“And
a coffee,” said John as he selected a large take-out cup and lid,
then filled it from the self-service decanter. While John was
waiting for his change, he tapped on his iPhone, checking in to the
location.
Armen
heard a ping from his computer and looked around the room. He walked
over to his computer, set to the Yelp page that showed his
bakery/café. “This one person keeps checking in with the name
Pat27. Hmmm. Could be a man or a woman. No picture.” He needed
another way to find him or her.
A
20-something Asian woman with faded jeans, soft, brown boots and a
pink cotton sweater walked in; John’s head came to a stop as he saw
her. He watched as she bought a tea and raspberry scone, sitting at
the corner table and opening her kindle to read. Normally not one to
take chances, John decided this was worth the risk. He walked over
to her table, paused, presented his bag and said, “Have you tried
the shortbread?”
The
woman gestured for John to sit down, “No, I would like that. I’m
Amy.”
John
smiled. “John” and he sat down next to her.
“I
don’t normally take desserts from strangers” she said.
“I
don’t normally offer them,” said John. “Are you from the
Mission?” John asked.
“No,
the Sunset. My friend is in the wine bar next door.”
Armen
walked around the seating area, glancing at screens. People
continued to come and go. He decided to secretly take snapshots of
them with his phone.
John
wondered if her friend was male or not; he hoped she would offer this
information. “Yes, it looks like a fine place, a little upscale
for this neighborhood though.”
Amy
broke off a nibble of shortbread and swallowed. “Well, that’s my
friend’s way of meeting rich guys.”
John
put his hand on the table. “And you?”
Amy
took a sip of her tea, and then put her hand on the table closer to
John. “Money comes and goes. I don’t waste it, so I don’t
need much.”
John
was feeling comfortable now. “Yeah, me too. But I guess you can
tell by the way I dress.”
Amy
looked John over. “You look fine, do you mean the plaid, flannel
shirt?”
John
nodded. “Holdover from winters in Berkeley. You?”
Amy
leaned forward. “UCLA, but I grew up here. You’re not from
here, are you?”
How
would she know that? John had no discernible accent. “No, Boston.
How did you know?” he asked.
“You
speak more slowly than natives.” After about an hour of social
dancing, John and Amy walked out, went up to his apartment and made
love.
Back in
the bakery, Armen looked at the customer pictures he had on his
phone. It was 10:00pm, closing time when a man in a mask came up to
the register, pointed a gun at Armen and demanded the money. The
gunman tapped something into his phone. “Ping.” The dark haired
girl took the money out and handed it to the gunman.
You
could almost make out a smile from the robber as he turned to leave.
“Remember the Duke!”
When
the police arrived, Armen showed them John’s picture. “This is
the guy who’s been casing my place.”
John
escorted Amy back to the wine bar. “Who is this?” said Jenny as
she saw John with Amy.
John
extended his hand. “John, this is Jenny, a sorority sister
visiting from L.A.”
Jenny
could tell where Amy had been. “So, John what do you do?”
Amy
gave her a nudge. “Hands off girl, I saw him first.”
John
was flattered with the attention of these two beautiful women.
“Would you ladies like a drink?”
Amy
and Jenny said in unison “champagne please.”
In
his peripheral vision, John caught them whispering to each other as
he walked to the bar. “Three champagnes please, but let’s keep
it under $25.00.”
A waitress
from the wine bar pointed out John to a policeman, who was letting
them know about the robbery next door. “OK, I see him.”
As
John and the women were toasting, John pulled out his phone and
checked in to the bakery one last time, after they had closed. This
would give Armen a laugh when he got in next day; it was just
harmless fun.
The
policeman, seeing John posting on his phone, confiscated it, looked
at the posting for the bakery. “Turn around Pat27, we got you”
and led him out the door in handcuffs. “Or should I call you
Duke?”
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Jerry Guarino’s short stories have been published by dozens of magazines in the United States, Canada, Australia and Great Britain. His latest book, "50 Italian Pastries", is available on Amazon.com and as a Kindle eBook. Please visit his website at http://cafestories.net
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Author:
Jerry Guarino