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Jack Stone, Stockbroker (Part 3)

Jack Stone, Stockbroker (Part 3)
I am not an easily likeable character. You know how some people just draw crowds around them when they entire a room? Yeah, not me. I am not sure why. I am average, if not above average in the looks department. I shower and shave regularly and I dress well. I think perhaps … people just don’t understand my way of thinking. My logic, my thought process. So, I have learned that patience is the key to this. Patience is something I have long been acustomed to; it’s the training of others that is the tricky part.

I introduced myself and Rocco and found the girl’s name was Faith. She was a lit student at NYU. Ahhh. I’ve always found liberal arts majors so sexy. My days at Darthmouth were spent sitting in on liberal arts classes that I was not even a part of. Yes, the eye candy was that good!

The bright orange sun was bearing down on us and made it unbearable for all involved to continue this conversation. So I invited her to a coffee shop. Surprisingly she said yes. She followed me home so I could drop off Rocco. I didn’t let her inside the apartment though. My place is nothing to be embarassed about. It’s just that I would rather have her paint a picture of me in her mind based on our conversation later on, rather than how nice or un-nice my place looks.

The Daily Grind was about 5 blocks away. Usually I wouldn’t walk there during this time of day, but her company made time move quicker somehow. The interior was tightly packed with comfortable plush chairs and sofas. There were plenty of little tables for patrons to sit and do homework or read the morning paper. The place sounded like a small factory. All the grinding, steaming of the milk, registers opening and closing. It’s amazing how many people came there to talk or read. I ordered a double shot latte for myself and a cappucino for her. She offered to pay, pulling out her wallet from her small backpack, but I intercepted with the suave and gentlemanly “Don’t worry about it. I got it.” Curiously, her bag was opened just far enough for me to see the shiny object inside. Instantly, I could feel my heart pounding on my chest. But this time it wasn’t the pitter patter of love. It was fear.

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