Free Kill on Command by Slaton Smith

Sandy was still with Sean, but having trouble.
     
    Sean crossed the field and briefly ran up Forbes, turning left on Union.  Nice Starbucks on Union, but he wanted to sit in the sun with Bailey at the Starbucks in Shadyside.  He turned right back onto Fifth and ran the rest of the way up to South Aiken.  He stopped at the intersection, and trotted across with Bailey.  Even as tough as she was, Bailey was getting a little winded.  A block behind, Sandy watched.
     
    Bailey and Sean walked the rest of the way to Starbucks on Walnut.  It had three nice tables and was right in the sun.  None of the Shadyside shops were open yet.  He stopped at the first table by the door and looped Bailey’s leash around the chair and entered the restaurant. 
     
    “Hey Sean!” the short, dark-haired barista shouted.
     
    “Good morning Monica,” he said, walking to the counter.  The Starbucks had the normal counter with the assorted mugs and glasses for sale.  Starbucks was one of those brands that did everything right.  Their merchandising was always well thought out.  It was always true to the brand.  They never tried anything that was not true.  They sold you.  They got the impulse buy, but it was never done in cheap way.  Always cool.  Always in the groove.  Take the music for instance.  The volume was never too high or too low.  It set a mood.  They had their own sizes of drinks – they branded sizes. A tall order, but they did it.  Some people tried to undo the brand.  Some people are too cool to say “grande”.  They had to say “medium”.  What they did not realize was that the power of the Starbucks brand made it “un-cool” to say medium.  Sean always was amazed at people, mostly men that did this.  Just get your coffee and sit down.  In here it’s “grande”.  Get over it.
     
    There were two chairs in the Starbucks window that opened to Walnut Street. He could see Bailey sitting and watching him through the window.
     
    “You been running?” she asked, smiling.  Monica, a grad student at Pitt, always wore shirts that were too tight, and too low cut.  She also wore too much eye make up.
     
    “Yeah.  A little,” Sean smiled.  He had sweated through the sweatshirt.
     
    She leaned towards him and in a low, sexy voice said, “What can I get you?”
     
    “Hmmmm.  How about a triple grande, three pump, white chocolate mocha.  Plus, a venti ice water for my friend.”
     
    “Wow, that’s new,” she laughed.  He always got the same thing.  “You know there’s like 2000 calories in this.”
     
    “Not worried.” 
     
    She kept talking while she made the drink.
     
    “I saw you at Doc’s last night,” she said.
     
    “Why didn’t you say hello?”
     
    “You were leaving.  You looked really tired.”
     
    “Never too tired for you,” Sean said, as he smiled at her.
     
    “Please.  I saw the women that showed up right after you left.”
     
    “What women?”
     
    “They were something else.  Not from here - that’s for sure.  One looked like an Italian model.  They talked to Ippolito.”
     
    “What? I’ll have to talk with him,” Sean said reaching for his coffee and Bailey’s water. 
    “ Damn it!  Damn it!” he thought to himself.
     
    He exited as a blonde on a red bike skidded to a stop and leaned her bike against the window.  Sean sat down, looking at her.  Bailey did too.  Bailey pressed herself against Sean’s leg.  The hair on her back was up.  Sean put the cup of water down for the dog, but Bailey ignored it.  She was watching the woman.
     
    “Nice bike,” Sean said.  Sandy took the phone and saddle pack off the bike, said nothing and entered the Starbucks.
     
    Sean looked at Bailey.  “Do I stink or something?”  Bailey just looked at him.  He smelled fine to her.  “She’s kind of hot,” Sean thought to himself.  Bailey finally started drinking out of the cup.  Finishing, she laid down under Sean’s legs that were up