I wait at a certain bus stop, get into her car when she drives up and ride with her to another part of town, where we go into a coffee shop.“It's my favorite coffeehouse,” she says when we're inside, where it's dark and the walls are lined with booths for privacy.Blue lights shine over the coffee bar, turning the place a shade like ocean water, deep and mysterious. A small band plays mellow jazz on a stage lit with revolving lights in pink, yellow and green. The smell of hot rich coffee makes the air chewy. We haven't talked much during the drive, and now that we're here my palms are sweating and my mouth is bone-dry. Lori takes a seat across from me in the booth, asks what I want when a waiter appears.I stare at the menu with its two pages of coffee selections with names like Devil Mocha Delight, Vanilla Extract, Double Whammy, Chili Pepper Surprise— “brewed with hot peppers, and not for the taste timid,” says the description. I can't concentrate.“I like the Italian Stallion,”
