Jack's Morning

A small slice of a man's life.

Jack sat at the bar, sipping his whiskey sour. Down a few seats, some self-styled alfa male was bothering a poor young lady, obviously thinking himself some kind of Romeo. Jack looked out the window at the parking lot. The guy either drove the blue Volkswagen Golf if he was actually packing or the big black GMC Sierra if he wasn't. None of Jack's business either way. He ordered another whiskey sour.
The next morning he went to the coffee shop down the street and ordered his usual. The tea was from India. They called it chai. The barista was a nice young woman named Charlotte. She was a barista during the day and a tango instructor at night. Jack called her Charlie. She didn't mind.
It was only a couple of blocks walk to work, past the Wrentwood Hotel and the dance studio where the tango lessons happened. Jack made sure his uniform was straight and entered through the front doors. Mike was waiting for him, impatiently as always.
"Hey, you're on time today. Bravo, my man!" He said, mockingly. Jack took it in stride, remembering last April Fools when he'd switched his lunch out for a big bowl of lima beans. Jack shooed him out and got things ready for the day, awaiting the first client. His smile dropped when in walked the Romeo from last night. Outside on the street, Jack sees a black GMC pickup.