Ian Matters

It has always been beyond me how much people can enjoy a coffee shop. The wireless internet was like a dead deer that collects flies, and so I was happy finally when I was out on the street again, though that wasn't much better. I was indifferent to downtown and I've never really been sure why I ever agreed to move down here with Sal. It was busy and filled to the brim with businessmen and women dressed in pantsuits. I really did fucking hate it.

I didn't even enjoy coffee that much, or even tea, and the only reason I ever drank it was to remedy the hangovers that I had. That was where I drew my line on coffee and tea drinking and that was where that line would stay unless I was ever dying of hypothermia.

It's a three block walk from the nearest coffee shop back to the apartment building and when I get home my calves are fucking aching and Frank is already awake and lighting up a cigarette near the sliding door of the balcony just as I'm walking in the door. “Sal's going to notice.”

It lights and he tucks the lighter into the back pocket of his navy jeans. “I won't be here.” He tells me, “And if I am we'll fuck and it'll be over with.”

That's one way to go about taking care of that situation. Sometimes I wish it were that simple for me to get Sal to quit being mad at me, and then I realize nope.

He's shirtless and his arms are covered with tattoos from the tips of his fingers right to his shoulders. He's not particularly muscular, but he is in adequate shape and he does have a nice upper body. I can see, easily, why she's all for having sex with the guy. I wouldn't be upset to find myself underneath him one day.

He turns and spots the coffee as I'm placing the cardboard holder on the counter. “One for me?” And I nod as I'm sitting down on the couch in my usual spot. He takes his and sips it immediately, I've never known how anyone can do that – it was like drinking fire.“Where is she?”

I peel off the lid of my coffee and place it on the coffee table to cool, “She had a shoot to go to.” He scoffs – he's just as unimpressed with everything as she is. I'm not the only one who realizes this, and not the only one who realizes the ongoing list of similarities they share, but I digress.

“Does she make money off of that?”

I shrug a shoulder, “Sometimes.” I set my coffee on the table beside it's lid and stand up and head to the kitchen to go through the refrigerator. Sal hasn't used all of the eggs yet so I'll have some of those.

I decide it's probably not worth mentioning Sal's latest case of like to Frank, he won't care unless it ends up in the way of him getting laid. He does dislike Sal, but he is very possessive of her and who's having their way with her. I guess I can understand it. If I think hard enough.

Her latest prey is an architect twice our age named Robert. He's handsome, his suit turns her on, and she wants to have sex with him on his office desk. He's forty something and she says he's a fine wine that only gets better with age. Of course she's said that before about men, she's only attracted to older men. Frank is the youngest guy she's been with and he's still two years older then us.

I recall her coming home and telling me about Robert. I also recall her watching office-based porn all night afterward, taking mental notes of the different ways she could fuck stars into his eyes. She's been determined since meeting him and that was only three or four weeks ago and from what I've heard he's not put off by her.

I try not to preoccupy myself with the things going on in her life, but I've had to look out for Sal for years and it's a hard habit to break when you live with them and they're always telling you things.