“Why are we meeting here instead of Starbucks?” Sybil plopped down across from Kaitlin.
“Trey loathes Starbucks.”
“Really? Why?”
Kaitlin rolled her eyes. “Guess you’ll have to ask him.” She nodded her head towards the man approaching them with a large, refillable mug in one hand and a pastry in the other. There was a look of boyish, satisfied pleasure spread across his face, a definite jaunt in his walk.
“My, aren’t we looking perky? And how many mugs of java have we already had today?”
“Huh?” Trey took a large bite out of his Danish, a smudge of cherry filling smearing across his upper lip. “None. This is my first,” he said with his mouth full.
“Sibyll wants to know why you wanted to meet here.”
“As opposed to…?”
“As opposed to Starbucks.”
“I hate Starbucks!” Trey slurped some coffee.
“Yeah. Kaitlin mentioned that.” Sibyll handed Trey a napkin and pointed towards her lips and then his.
“What, exactly, is it that you dislike so much about Starbucks?” Sibyll’s eyes narrowed as she watched him dab at his face. “The fact that they are a large corporation taking over the world with their rapidly generating franchises, invading small town America and putting dumps like this out of business? Or is it that they get their coffee from starving, Third World countries, exploiting the masses so they can line their own pockets with ka-ching, ka-ching?”
Trey stared at her for a moment. “Nahhh! I voted for Bush. I believe in free trade.” He grinned.
Sibyll choked on her tea. “I’m going to pretend you are kidding.”
“Trey is just a philistine,” Kaitlin said, and Sibyl giggled.
“I dunno about that,” Trey said. “All I want is a freaking cup of coffee. You know. Coffee. Dark, hot. In a cup. I can’t stand all that grande frappe latte mocha ‘how many shots do you want?’ crap. It makes me feel like a freaking retard every time I go in there!”
“Oh, Trey,” Sibyll laughed, “you are a freaking retard!”
“Whatever.”
“So. Like. Why are we meeting here?” Sibyll threw up her hands. “I mean, not ‘here’ here. I really don’t care. Although, personally, I would have preferred Starbucks. Where I can get a chai LATTE.” She looked dubiously into her mug.
“Isn’t a regular cup of coffee just so much better?” Trey clinked his refillable thermos mug against Sibyll’s ceramic one.
“Chai is tea, Trey.”
“O.K.”
Sibyll patted Trey’s hand. “Trey, we love you dearly. Probably more so because we have known you since nursery school than that we would have become your friends today, as adults, but whatever. One of the benefits of growing up in a small town, I suppose. And never leaving.”
“Well, technically,” Kaitilin pitched in, “I left. And then came back….”
Sibyll glared at her.
“Right. It’s not all that much different, I guess. In the long run.”
“So, what gives, Trey? Why are we here? Why are we meeting? What was so flipping important the three of us had to get together… in the morning?”
Trey glanced down at his watch. “It’s like eleven-thirty.”
“That would still be morning.”
“I know. But it’s almost, like… lunch time. This Danish was my second breakfast!”
“Trey. I am an artist. I work at night. Late at night. I don’t usually get up til after noon. Eleven-thirty is like the middle of the night in my world.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s OK. I just want to know what was so important that we had to meet at the crack of dawn in this free enterprise hell hole!” The older couple at the next table looked over at Sibyll with alarm.
“It’s – it’s Boo.”
“What about him?”
“He – he -- I found – I mean…”
“Oh, my God! You found drugs in Boo’s room!” Sibyll screamed.
“No!”
The older couple hurriedly, or as hurriedly as an older couple can move, got up from their table and moved across the room to a booth.
“No, I didn’t find drugs. He’s only twelve, you know.”
“So? Delphi is like the heroin capital of Pittsburgh. Didn’t you know it? All these rich kids with more money than they know what to do with.”
Kaitlin and Trey both stared at Sibyll. What the hell did she know about kids in Delphi? She was single and didn’t have any.
“It wasn’t drugs.” Trey nervously ran his fingers through his still thick dark hair.
“Alcohol?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“O.K., well, the suspense is really killing me now, Trey. What the hell did you find?”
“Trey loathes Starbucks.”
“Really? Why?”
Kaitlin rolled her eyes. “Guess you’ll have to ask him.” She nodded her head towards the man approaching them with a large, refillable mug in one hand and a pastry in the other. There was a look of boyish, satisfied pleasure spread across his face, a definite jaunt in his walk.
“My, aren’t we looking perky? And how many mugs of java have we already had today?”
“Huh?” Trey took a large bite out of his Danish, a smudge of cherry filling smearing across his upper lip. “None. This is my first,” he said with his mouth full.
“Sibyll wants to know why you wanted to meet here.”
“As opposed to…?”
“As opposed to Starbucks.”
“I hate Starbucks!” Trey slurped some coffee.
“Yeah. Kaitlin mentioned that.” Sibyll handed Trey a napkin and pointed towards her lips and then his.
“What, exactly, is it that you dislike so much about Starbucks?” Sibyll’s eyes narrowed as she watched him dab at his face. “The fact that they are a large corporation taking over the world with their rapidly generating franchises, invading small town America and putting dumps like this out of business? Or is it that they get their coffee from starving, Third World countries, exploiting the masses so they can line their own pockets with ka-ching, ka-ching?”
Trey stared at her for a moment. “Nahhh! I voted for Bush. I believe in free trade.” He grinned.
Sibyll choked on her tea. “I’m going to pretend you are kidding.”
“Trey is just a philistine,” Kaitlin said, and Sibyl giggled.
“I dunno about that,” Trey said. “All I want is a freaking cup of coffee. You know. Coffee. Dark, hot. In a cup. I can’t stand all that grande frappe latte mocha ‘how many shots do you want?’ crap. It makes me feel like a freaking retard every time I go in there!”
“Oh, Trey,” Sibyll laughed, “you are a freaking retard!”
“Whatever.”
“So. Like. Why are we meeting here?” Sibyll threw up her hands. “I mean, not ‘here’ here. I really don’t care. Although, personally, I would have preferred Starbucks. Where I can get a chai LATTE.” She looked dubiously into her mug.
“Isn’t a regular cup of coffee just so much better?” Trey clinked his refillable thermos mug against Sibyll’s ceramic one.
“Chai is tea, Trey.”
“O.K.”
Sibyll patted Trey’s hand. “Trey, we love you dearly. Probably more so because we have known you since nursery school than that we would have become your friends today, as adults, but whatever. One of the benefits of growing up in a small town, I suppose. And never leaving.”
“Well, technically,” Kaitilin pitched in, “I left. And then came back….”
Sibyll glared at her.
“Right. It’s not all that much different, I guess. In the long run.”
“So, what gives, Trey? Why are we here? Why are we meeting? What was so flipping important the three of us had to get together… in the morning?”
Trey glanced down at his watch. “It’s like eleven-thirty.”
“That would still be morning.”
“I know. But it’s almost, like… lunch time. This Danish was my second breakfast!”
“Trey. I am an artist. I work at night. Late at night. I don’t usually get up til after noon. Eleven-thirty is like the middle of the night in my world.”
“Sorry.”
“It’s OK. I just want to know what was so important that we had to meet at the crack of dawn in this free enterprise hell hole!” The older couple at the next table looked over at Sibyll with alarm.
“It’s – it’s Boo.”
“What about him?”
“He – he -- I found – I mean…”
“Oh, my God! You found drugs in Boo’s room!” Sibyll screamed.
“No!”
The older couple hurriedly, or as hurriedly as an older couple can move, got up from their table and moved across the room to a booth.
“No, I didn’t find drugs. He’s only twelve, you know.”
“So? Delphi is like the heroin capital of Pittsburgh. Didn’t you know it? All these rich kids with more money than they know what to do with.”
Kaitlin and Trey both stared at Sibyll. What the hell did she know about kids in Delphi? She was single and didn’t have any.
“It wasn’t drugs.” Trey nervously ran his fingers through his still thick dark hair.
“Alcohol?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“O.K., well, the suspense is really killing me now, Trey. What the hell did you find?”
posted by delta at 1:05 PM
1 Comments:
what? WHAT? come on, write FASTER!
although i think you should let them curse.
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