[ WP ] You 're sitting in a coffee shop watching a man type on his computer . He types the words , `` It begins raining outside '' , and it instantly starts raining .

Tuesday morning, 8:30 AM. 
 
 I was n't s'posed to go into Natelli's - not after that whole fiasco between me and Lucy. I'd told her I was fixed, prepared to pick up our pieces and put them back in place. She'd kill the power on us if she realized I was still a broken mess. 
 
 Natelli's was the closest diner to the precinct for a good mile, though - shoulda never left New York. I was sure Sam would n't be in this morning, too. She only worked on Wednesdays - late night, graveyard shift. Stayed up for the five-o's that still gave a shit. But lo and behold, as I walked through the doors, there she was. 
 
 I caught a glimpse of the bright blue streaks in her hair as she stood behind the counter. She quickly turned her head in my direction. 
 
 Instinctively, I averted my gaze and looked out the window at the trees across the street and the broken down green jalopy that never moved from in front of the place no matter how many tickets I put on the bastard's windshield. 
 
 I realized how stupid I looked snapping my head to the side as she glared in my direction. I slowly turned my head forward, I could feel her eyes boring holes into the side of my face. 
 
 New guy I've never seen before decide to take my regular seat - Back hunched forward as his eyes glared into the bright screen of his laptop behind white sunglasses. Black quilted vest, brown messenger bag, slicked back raven hair, skinny acid-washed raw denim clinging to his legs - my detective kicking in again. 
 
 I sat down. Two waitresses came out from behind the counter, one of them being Sam. Thank god the other one, a blonde with long legs, started walking toward me. Sam grabbed the blonde's arm and whispered into her ear with a smile. The blond looked over at me and chuckled. She nodded her head at Sam and started walking toward laptop guy. Shit. 
 
 Sam: Jeff! 
 
 She patted the blonde waitress on the back and sauntered to my table. For a moment I convinced myself my name was something unordinary, quirky - Ulysses. But nope..., that was my name, Jeff, unfortunately. I deeply exhaled out of my nostrils. 
 
 Me: Hey, Samantha. 
 
 Sam: Jeffrey, You're looking a bit... bronzed... today. 
 
 A playful grin flashed across her red lips. 
 
 Me: Well..., you know. 
 
 Lucy's enraged face sparked into my mind. I cleared my throat and looked at Sam solemnly. 
 
 Me: Went to the Bahamas with Lucy and the kiddo this Spring. James is gettin' so big now I ca n't even pick'em up. Bronzed? Ha..., just gettin' rusty. 
 
 Sam: Oh... 
 
 Her eyes opened wide in surprise. She even stepped back a bit. 
 
 Sam: How was that? You and Lucy... you're still... getting along? 
 
 I did n't wan na go through this again, especially not with her. 
 
 Me: We have our ups and downs, you know the deal. Can I get two cups of coffee? 
 
 Sam: Sugar? Milk? 
 
 Me: You know how I like it. 
 
 I winked at her, you know, just for old times sake. Her cheeks blushed. She smiled and quickly scurried away. 
 
 I decided to eavesdrop on the order of the guy in front of me. Guy could n't have been past his mid 20s. What was a kid that coulda passed for a Brooklyn hipster doing in the overall and straw hat city of Knoxville fucking Iowa? Did n't make sense to me. 
 
 Laptop Guy: May I have some tea? Oolong, please. 
 
 Blonde Waitress: Of course. 
 
 As she walked away, the man began typing furiously. Red arial letters flashed across the blank screen. I was stunned by the quickness of his fingers. 
 
 Laptop guy stared at the waitresses as they chatted with each other and prepared our drinks. The blonde girl finished first. Sam always took her sweet time - this morning was no exception. 
 
 The blonde waitress came out from behind the counter again, this time steadily inching forward with the mug of tea in her hand. 
 
 I thought I heard the guy in front of me with the laptop chuckling lightly. I slowly raised my legs up from my seat and warily peered over his shoulder at the words on the screen. 
 
 `` The blond waitress spills the tea'' 
 
 At that moment I had found it pretty funny. New Age beatnik leaves big city to travel backwater mid-west for writing, I thought. As the blonde approached, the man capped of the sentence with a period. 
 
 The mug plunged down from her grip as if it were smote by the hand of God. The fragile ceramic frame crashes against the marble floors, spewing oolong up and onto the blonde girl's white skirt. The woman squeals in fright. She placed her hands over her mouth and looked at the man. 
 
 Blonde Waitress: My gosh, I'm so sorry! 
 
 Sam came out from behind the counter with a wet rag to help. The blonde sullenly looks down, grabbing the edges of her skirt to stare at the blob of brown on the cotton. 
 
 Me: Hey! 
 
 I pointed at the words on his screen. He looked back at me with a guilty look on his face that told me everything. He could have just ignored my accusing finger - look back at me like I was the crazy one. But he did n't. 
 
 He quickly typed something onto his screen as he looked at me with fear in his eyes. He capped off the sentence with a period. He slammed the screen down and picked up his bag. I flash my badge at him. 
 
 Me: Hey! Detective Jeffrey Mack-! 
 
 Light sparked across my eyes as if I were hit by a flashbang, my voice muffled by the deafening roar of thunder. Even behind the windows of the diner, It sounded as if I were in a shower. Before I knew it, the guy was outside, his black combat boots splashing across the ground as he sprinted to the jalopy. He left his keys to the ignition on the diner table. I took out five dollars from my coat pocket and left it on the counter. 
 
 Me: Sorry ladies! 
 
 They both looked at me in terror and confusion. I ran out the door, struggling to see past the pellets of rain pelting my face. It was enough for a flood that'd make Noah nervous. 
 
 As I ran across the street to the broken down jalopy, I could see a light beyond the driver seat window. As I walked up to the car, It was visible that he was typing frantically again. I balled up my fist and banged on the window. The engine miraculously started. The guy closed his laptop - I could n't see inside his car anymore. He throttled the pedal of the car and the tires below the car screeched. I moved back. The tires began to spin and the car moved forward. The rain beneath the car splashed onto the dress shirt that Lucy pressed out for me this morning. The car rushed ahead. From the back-lights red flash I could tell that that the car turned a left. I decided to give up the chase. I was n't Usain Bolt and it definitely was n't a foot race. I made up my mind - I was in for the long haul. Even If I had gotten into my car right then and there, followed him, I'd never find him passed the veil of rain. 
 
 I just stood there in the rain thinking for a bit. 
 
 I could n't say that he was the one who knocked that cup out of the blonde's hand. I could just speculate. If there's one thing I've picked up from the pound to the precinct, it's that hard facts are the only thing that gets you anywhere in life. I finally grasped something that could get me somewhere, and I was n't prepared to let go. I wanted some of what that kid had - power. 
 
 The name Jeffrey Mackinshire was getting boring. I was n't tough. I was n't'hard-boiled'. I was n't Sicilian like my West Side upbringing convinced me to believe. I was a pasty British boy trying to blend in with tanned greasers. Mackinshire for fuck sake, not Macchione, not Mannino - a fraud. It was time to be a real detective. So like The Maltese Falcon I trudged through the monsoon with false bravado, my head held humorously high. I got into my car parked a block down from the diner. I took out my phone and opened up a new blank note. 
 
 `` The green jalopy comes back to the diner.'' 
 
 I waited and waited for hours - sat there till the rain stopped. Forgot that I had to be in to the precinct by ten o'clock that morning. Forgot that I had to call Lucy about picking up James from elementary by three in the evening. Forgot to come home for family dinner by eight at night. 
 
 By 2:00 A.M. I gave up and opened my car to the bittersweet scent of petrichor wafting up from the uneven wet crevices of cement. 
 
 Figured - nothing ever really went my way. Could never get what I really wanted - too many responsibilities tying me back. I had a wife and kid that loved me enough to forgive me for turning my back to them, a job that payed the bills, a car, a house, a life. 
 
 What I also knew is that I had a license plate number, a badge that gave me the authority of a background check on everything in the city, tabula rasa, a good reset, something different.'N' to be honest, I was ready to snatch the cards out of the dealer's hands and give myself a royal flush. 
 
 I deserved it. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

