Page 3 of Home Game

I walked around the corner to the counter and stood in line. It took me a few moments to realize that I couldn’t see her, or my laptop. Whatever. Fuck. If she wanted to take off with it that was her prerogative. I hated the fucking thing. In fact, it would probably get me off the hook with my accountant.

“What can I get for you?” the barista asked.

“I’ll take a coffee and a hot chocolate.”

“Would you like whipping cream?”

Did punk rocker chick like whipping cream? No clue.

“Sure, why not?”

She leaned closer, mock whisper. “I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Ryan Parker?”

I looked at the flushed barista for the first time. Another barista friend hovered behind her.

Shit.

I leaned forward. “I am. But I’m just here to drink coffee like every other patron.”

In other words, don’t make a fuss.

“Could I get your autograph?”

“Sure.” I took the proffered pen and signed a paper napkin. I needed to move this along before everyone else in the cafe figured out who I was. Vancouver, as I was finding out, was as crazy about hockey as a small town in Saskatchewan. They were loyal, relentless fans that treated their team like royalty.

“How much do I owe you?”

“It’s on the house.”

I shoved a twenty in her tip jar. “Thanks.”

“I’ll bring it out to you.”

“Thanks.”

Back around the corner, punk rocker was working away at my laptop. I sat down beside her.

“I’m just setting up categories for you.”

“Okay.” Recalling vaguely that Frank had spoken of such things.

She glanced over at the shoebox of receipts. “Sort those into the following groups: medical, travel, housing, moving and everything else.”

The barista appeared at our table. “So, who’s having the hot chocolate?”

“She is.”

“Oh,” the barista said, shock laced her voice when she looked at the chick beside me. “I… okay.”

She set down our drinks. When she was out of earshot, I asked, “You come here a lot?”

Defiant. “It has clean washrooms.”

“Huh,” I said. Didn’t all coffee shops have clean washrooms?

“Just sort your receipts, okay?”

“On it.”

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