After I cleaned Karalyn up, the two of us walked to the main room to get through this tiresome event. Again I heard the arguing before I got in the room.

        Oh God, what now? Couldn't Senor Douche go five minutes without setting off a global crisis? It's like he lived for the confrontation.

        The crowd, which had dwindled since the start of the day, was as quiet as a mouse as they watched the scene unfold. There was Jackson, face twisted into a nasty snarl, going at it with the world's most pain in the ass news anchor. Oh that was it, I wanted him out of my place, money be damned.

        "Say it again. Say the shit to my face!" Jackson looked like he was ready punch Bo. Knowing Bo, he'd use that as a chance to sue so I went into damage control mode yet again.

        "What the hell's going on?" I stepped between Jackson and the table where Bo was seated, looking as arrogant as usual.

        "I only asked the man to bring me a few things." Bo said calmly.

        "You should have heard him Evie. Should have heard the way this motherfucker was talking to me! Like I'm his goddamn slave."

        "Okay, I'm going to solve this. Mr. Conway, I'd like you out of my establishment now." I had a feeling Bo would demand his money back for kicking him out but I had to put my employees well being above my own...even when it hurts.

        "I'd be happy to leave. After you give me what was promised to me."

        "And what's that?"

        "A space to meet my fans, some of your world famous tea, and cake to die for. So far you're two for three and if you get me that last one I'll gladly pay you for the full four hours." His eyes got vicious then. "Hey you, Snoop Dog! Why don't you go get me a piece of that cake?"

        I thought I was going to have to physically restrain Jackson, a task I have to say that would have been impossible since he outweighs me by at least 150 pounds. To my surprise, my cousin took a deep breath then looked Bo in the eye and said:

        "You ain't worth going back to jail for." Then he turned on his heel and walked into the kitchen.

        "And make it snappy. I've got better people to see."

        He stalked back into the room and all but tossed the slice of cake in front of Bo. Sitting a fork down forcibly in front of him.

        "Now eat your shit and bounce."

        Bo smiled and took a tentative bite of the cake.

        "Hey, this is pretty good. I wasn't expecting someone like you to be able to make a decent cake but it's pretty delicious." He took another bite. " A strain on society your whole life, it's good to know that the depth of your accomplishment in this world is measured by a piece of cake. Congratulations on being promoted from crack whore to kitchen bitch, your mother must be proud." He laughed.

        Before I could react Jackson had maneuvered past me and lunged toward Bo, pulling him out of his seat and yanking him to his level by his collar.

        "Jackson!" I yelled as two patrons stepped up and grabbed Jackson by his arms, trying to pry his death grip away from Bo.

       But Jackson was too strong, years of gang-banging and prison life had left him not only hard, but incredibly tough. He shook Bo by the collar and then without warning dropped him like yesterday's trash. Bo lay crumpled on the floor, his suit wrinkled and his eyes wide with fear.

         "Aw Evie, I wasn't gonna hurt him." He smiled at Bo whose confident smirk had disappeared. "Just wanted to scare him is all." Jackson gave one more blood curling look down at Bo then stalked back to the kitchen, head held high. I had to hand it to my cousin, he knew how to make a point.

         "I guess you're about ready to leave?" I looked down at him.

         Bo got his second wind of pompousness and glowered at me.

         "I don't appreciate being manhandled by your thug staff. I assume you know that I won't be giving this dump my endorsement."

          "Like I need it asshole. You got what you wanted now leave."

           As Bo was walking to the door he rocked, his hand flying to his forehead. Beads of sweat dotted his face and he doubled over, falling to the floor. The crowd looked on panicked, Karalyn running to his side.

          "Bo sweetie what's wrong?" But he didn't answer. With a violent shake he vaulted forward and threw up all over my floor. Then he fell, face first into his own projectile, and lay there unmoving.

          "Bo!" Karalyn was frantically shaking him, trying to get any response.

          "Call an ambulance!" I heard someone yell.

           But from the vacant glaze of his eyes, I knew it was too late. Bo Conway, number one anchorman and world class dick had just dropped dead in the middle of my cafe.

             Crap.

             It doesn't pay to get up some days. I had watched things go from bad to worse with each hour and now it all accumulated with a dead body laying in my shop. Great. After they officially pronounced Bo dead the police called me up and asked me to come down to the the station. Double great.

             Flanked in the middle of the lower east side, the building was an enormous concrete marvel that just oozed law and order. I was intimidated just looking at it.

                Inside a receptionist directed me to the office of the detective who was heading the investigation, a large man with square jaw and deadly serious eyes. His wavy dark-brown locks were slicked back out of his face. A deadly serious face. The brass name plate on his desk read Detective Manuel Juarez. And ladies let me tell you, the man was F-I-N-E.

             "Miss Harper, explain to me what happened." He leaned back in his chair and studied me, waiting for me to respond.

              "Bo came in to Taste Teas to promote his book. He was being a totally unreasonable asshole and then the next thing I knew he just fell over and died." I couldn't stop staring at him. "Was it a heart attack?" He ignored my question.

               "Did he eat or drank anything?" He absentmindedly ran a hand across his jaw with what looked like nonchalance in his eyes. Very very pretty eyes.

              "Yeah during the day he had a couple of things, let me think." I tried to remember all the snacks Jackson had said he'd set out for Bo only to have them thrown back in his face. "I think he tried the coffee cake, a croissant maybe, I know he had tea." Just not in his mouth.

               "I see." He stood abruptly, my cue to get up, and shook my hand. "Well if I have anymore questions I'll be in touch." He led me back to the front and thanked me for coming by.

               "No problem Mr. Juarez."

              "Detective." Okay so he takes the title seriously, that's cool.

              "Right, Detective Juarez."

              Walking down the overbearing concrete steps outside the station, I took a glance at my watch. It was almost nine-thirty. In all the commotion I'd almost forgotten that I'd promised to meet Henry at our place. Sighing, I made my way toward my car, in dire need of cheering up from the one person I knew could lift my spirits.

*******************************************

            Delmar's was a bar and grill that was located conveniently between my and Henry's apartments. The two of us usually had dinner together once a week to catch up on each others lives and bitch about whatever was bothering us. All the better, I was in a bitching mood.

            I spotted him at the bar in our usual spot chatting with Jimmy the bartender. He turned when Jimmy nodded my way and spotted me easing toward him irritation masking his features.

            I'd met Henry Cho one rainy day on the playground. I don't remember how or why but for some reason we hit it off. That first day he invited me over to his house is one I'll never forget.

            The play date had been typical. I'd gone to his house after school and except for a little culture shock everything was going great. Until the little punk convinced me to go behind the tool shed to play a game of "show me yours, show you mine".

             He'd pulled his pants down first and I'd asked if it was supposed to look like that, to which he'd simply replied yes. Then it was my turn.

             As I was lifting my skirt and he was ducked down to get a nice upward view of the goods, his mother walked around the side of the shed and caught us in the act. And if you don't know, let me tell you right now:

             Mama Cho don't play that shit.

            She'd given him the spanking of his life and when she was finished, to my surprise, she spanked me. Not near as hard as him, but it was a spanking none the less. I spent the rest of the afternoon terrified. Not of Mrs. Cho, my punishment had barely hurt, but of my mother. My mother is fiercely protective of her only child and I was worried the unorthodox punishment would start a national incident. When she arrived I gently told her what happened. She looked at Mrs. Cho with steel in her spin and daggers in her eyes.

            "You spanked my child?" She'd asked with an edge in her voice.

           "Yes. They were showing each other their private parts. They were bad, so they were punished." Mrs. Cho stared my mother right in her eyes, unapologetic, unafraid. I braced myself for the fight.

            "Well good," She looked down at me. "Glad somebody's here to teach her that good little girls don't lift their skirts up for boys in public." Looking in her eyes I could see she was playing with the idea of spanking me again for good measure as soon as we got home. "Regina Harper." She held out her hand.

          "Byung-Soon Cho." She took my mother's hand, a silent mutual understanding between them.

        "Nice to meet you." Mama looked down at Henry. "And you. It'd be a privilege to invite you over sometime. Though I can assume you won't be pulling your pants down in front of us ladies." Henry quickly shook his head.

          Since then me and Henry have been tight. We bonded that day over naughty seven year old curiosity and the equal terror of our mothers. Our friendship spanned twenty years, no one knew me like he did.

​

         "What the hell, Evie, it's almost ten o'clock! Where have you been?" He was sitting with his back to the bar, leaning on one elbow.

          "Police station." He raised a curious eyebrow. "Bo Conway dropped dead at Taste Tea's today."

           "That guy from Channel Five News?" I nodded. "Jesus. Why did you have to go to the police station?"

        "Some detective wanted to ask me questions about his death." I motioned for Jimmy.

        "Hmm. Sounds like they're investigating."

        "Investigating what?" I asked as Jimmy sat an apple martini in front of me.

         "Maybe they think it's foul play."

         "Nobody stabbed him or anything, he just fell while he was walking out the door. Probably a heart attack or something." I took a sip of my drink. "Besides, shit like that only happens in those stories you write."

         "Maybe." He looked thoughtful for a moment.

         "Anyway I'm not particularly sad that he's dead. Mostly just pissed off. The guy looks nice on the five o'clock news but in person he's a serious jerk."

           "That bad huh?"​​

          "You have no idea." I turned in my seat to look at him. "What'd you want to talk about?"

           "Hmm?"

           "On the phone you said you wanted to talk to me." His face changed then and I knew this was serious.

           "Steph's cheating on me." He took a long slug of the beer he'd been nursing.

           "Are you sure?" He looked at me with so much sadness that I instantly wanted to kill her.

            "Yeah. I spent my whole day trailing her. She's been fucking some buff guy with tattoos." He sighed, defeated. "I can't believe she'd do this to me. Goddamn slut."

            "Jimmy!" I had shouted so suddenly that Henry jumped.

            "What!?" He'd been trying to flirt with some pretty bar patrons.

             I grabbed Henry's beer bottle and held it in front of his face.

           "My boy just had his heart stepped on and you give him a single beer? Where's the vodka?"

            "You know, every week you come in here and every week your tab gets a little higher."

              "So?"

             "So, you owe me one hundred twelve dollars and forty-two cents."

              "You know I'm good for it."

              "No. No you're not." He stared at me, daring me to contradict him. "And you're the worst tipper I've ever seen."

             "Okay, you're right. But look at him." I gestured to Henry. "The man's hurting. Can't you turn the other cheek just this once?"

               "Naw."

              "And I thought we were friends."

              "Oh? We're friend's now? And here I thought I was just your supplier." I put on my best pouty face. He rolled his eyes.

             "Fine." He started to reach for a bottle on the shelf behind him.

            "Not that, we want the good stuff." He sighed and motioned to someone behind us. I turned to see the Raggedy Man from the alley walking toward us.

             "Go in the back and open a case of Grey Goose and bring me a bottle." Jimmy commanded.

He nodded and did what he was told.

             "He work here?"

             "Who, him? Naw he just does a few odd jobs around town. For whatever reason he only works for cash. You can ask him to help lift boxes or clean bathrooms or paint. He's pretty cheap and he does good work."

             So Raggedy Andy was a free lance hand for hire. Must be why he was at Prick Pro today. He came back and handed Jimmy the bottle. His eyes met mine and I could tell he was trying to place where he'd seen me before. A spark of recognition lit his eyes and if I didn't know what a big grumpy pants he was I'd swear there was amusement there.

             Jimmy poured two glasses for us then went back to work. Henry and I held up the glasses and clanked them together.

            "To good friends," He said. "Always there to get you drunk when you need it." We tilted our heads back and let the intenseness burn it's way down. I hit my fist in my palm.

             "Hey, you want me to bust some caps?" He laughed at me but I was entirely serious. That bitch hurt my friend, I'm thinking a little pay-back's in order.

             "No. I just want to forget about it. Let's just sit here drink and call her every name in the book till I forget how much I liked her." He took another drink. "Promise you'll let it go."

             "Fine. But if you change your mind call me. There are advantages to having a girl for a best friend you know. In case your feeling a little domestic violence-y, I'm here to be your extended fist. Just like I know you're always here to knock around any guy who hurts me." But he just smiled and shook his head. Damn he must have really liked this chick.

              I'd only met her a couple of times. Steph was a tall blonde with big doe eyes and a happy go lucky laugh. She seemed nice enough but I'd never gotten the impression that he was that serious about her.

               He'd introduced her to Mama Cho once at a family thing. Mrs. Cho had looked at her and smiled, shaking her hand. Then as soon as Steph was out of the room she'd turned to Henry and said: "You should break up with her, she's a loose girl. I can tell." Then she'd not so subtly mentioned a couple Korean girls she could set him up with. We'd shaken it off then, but I guess in this case Mama knows best. Steph turned out to be a slut.

           "Seriously, I got your back. Bros for life right?" I put a hand on his shoulder.

           "Bros for life." His smile was grateful, but his eyes were still sad.

            "Jimmy!"

             "God! What?!" He stomped back over to us.

            "Keep em coming."