As he parked in the lot, he saw Harold Baltimore get out of his navy Buick LeSabre across the street and amble toward the Starbucks around the corner. Almost immediately, Barry decided that he needed a third cup of coffee to really get the day on its feet.He crossed the street after the chief, maneuvered his way through the milling pack of day laborers out front, and then went in through the tinted glass doors, seeing that Harold had already arrived at the front of the line.“Gimme a venti cappuccino,” Harold Baltimore was saying in a hoarse exhausted grumble.“It’s on the house,” said the boy behind the counter, who had a shaved head and a small gold ring through his eyebrow. “Compliments of the manager.”“I don’t need any compliments.” The chief proffered a ten-dollar bill. “Just gimme the correct change.”“Isn’t that something?” Barry took his place in line behind him. “Our fathers fought the wars in Germany and Korea, and our generation invented the five-dollar cup of coffee.
