MD may have been Charley's business, but it was Hugo's work of art. Charley bought the coffee shop almost ten years ago. He paid the bills, he ran the business, but Hugo made it come alive. He designed it, decorated it, hired the people, chose the coffee. Hugo put the Daze into the mocha. Right now, the hall was pretty well decked out for the holidays.
I like it because it reminds me of our local diner in Hendersonville. Martha Cavanaugh, who owns it, and who's mother owned it before her, and her mother before, knew everything about everybody, before they knew about it themselves.
I ordered my double shot cappuccino and searched for an available table. It was crowded for a late weekday morning.
"Hey, Greg!" I heard someone call, and looked to my left. Andrew waved me over to his table by the window. I motioned to the waiter to bring the coffee over to Andrewâs table, and I joined him there.
"Hi, sweetie!" I said and gave him a kiss. "You all packed up yet??"
"Hardly. I still have a shitload of stuff I need to get rid of." He hesitated a minute, and then lowered his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Hey, do you want that Garbo and Garland print I had in the living room?"
My jaw dropped. The framed print of the two most beautiful ladies in show biz history was one of Andrew's prized possessions. "Andy, you love that print!ä
He looked a little sheepish. "I know, I know. But there's really not a place for it in Eric's house, and you love it as much as I do, and..."
"He's not telling you to get rid of it is he?"
"No! It's just that it doesn't really go with other stuff in the house and..."
"That's bullshit. It's your place too. That's a great print. He can't tell you to get rid of your life because you're living together. What a shit!" Andrewâs face signaled that someone was behind me.
"Who's a shit?" Of course it was Eric, but I wasn't really in a charitable mood. Andrew cut me off.
"My boss," he interjected, kicking me under the table. "We were just talking about Randy."
"Yeah. This guyâs a totally psychotic control freak! You understand how that is donât you?" I egged on. Come on Eric. Tear me down. You know you want to. "But, you wouldnât tell Andy how to live you wouldnât dictate what he could or couldnât have in his house, right?"
Eric as ever, was a gentleman. " It's Andrew's house as much as mine, and he can bring anything to it that he wants." I moved in for the kill.
"Great. We were just talking about where to put that fabulous Garbo and Garland poster! Don't you think it would look fabulous in the living room??"
To his credit, Andrew didnât scream, and Eric remained quite polite. "Well," he said. "I'm not much of an interior designer. Andrew can decide what he wants to bring over and where to put it."
Andrew finally chirped in. "Well, babe, it's our place, and it's up to the two of us to make it ours."
"You're right." said Eric. "Well, I gotta get back to the clinic. I'll see you later." And with that, Eric gave Andrew a squeeze on the shoulder and a peck on the cheek. He ignored me.
"Boys, in public." I said in mock surprise. Andrew gave me a look.
"What?" I said. "What'd I do?" 
