Tales of the Storage Space, Part 3

Martin checked getting rid of Jennifer’s “stuff” off his trusty to-do list.  Of course she’d tried everything possible to stop him:  tears, sex, even blackmailing him about that business at work he should never have told her about.  But he’d gotten all her “stuff” out anyway.  In the end, when he left her in front of her new storage unit, it had reminded him of having sex with her.  He’d always had to leave her with that same stupid-hungry look on her face, since there was no satisfying her, and he had to brush his teeth and get some sleep.  Was there a chance in hell that she’d make good on her threat to rat him out at work?  He didn’t think so.

He looked up from his phone when the light changed and stepped into the crosswalk.

Intersection of Flatbush and Atlantic.  Hours since his last vanilla latte; in that regard he was way off schedule.  Couldn’t see it, but knew there was a Starbucks hidden in the Atlantic Center/Terminal shopping complex.  Martin knew the location of every Starbucks in Brooklyn.

That business at work…  He’d only taken a little money.

Chap in Starbucks…”guy,” Martin corrected himself…looked at Martin like he had two heads when he ordered his vanilla latte.  Never heard a Brit speak?  What was the big deal with pronouncing every “r”?

That business at work…  So what if it was a charitable organization?

Martin thumbed his phone back to life while the idiot who’d apparently never heard a British accent struggled with his vanilla latte order.  Next on Martin’s trusty to-do list was calling Karen to see if she could come over Saturday night now that he’d gotten the keys back from Jennifer.  He didn’t need sex as often as Jennifer did, but every Saturday night he did like to be able to check it off his list.  Karen, a long-time friend-with-benefits, was perfect.  Martin had only gotten involved with Jennifer because Karen had gotten married, but that had broken up a week ago.  That’s when he’d told Jennifer she had to move out.

Ink Splatters 3

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