With my ãVogueä and ãWä in hand, I headed for Mocha Daze. It had been a harsh day of LâAtriceâs neuroses and miscellaneous stupid people tripping. I hoped that the isolated table by the window was available so I could indulge in a double cappuccino with two Sugars in the Raw and a slice of toasted banana bread, but no butter I thought, and no conversation, just me, myself, and my magazines.

It was crowded and I wondered what it was about Thursdays that made everything more popular, even the freeways.

I didnât see Hugo, but...Yes! My table was there and summoning my presence. I looked down the aisle to see the path I would take and there he sat, Mike with his new AA buddies. He stared right at me looking like a little boy who had stolen a dollar from his motherâs pocket book and got caught. When he was my roommate, he was a rude, lazy, messy, selfish and drugged out son-of-a-bitch, but oddly enough I missed him. But I didnât want to talk to him now, not here, and not in my mood.

I looked around to see if there was another path to my waiting seat. I would have to go all the way around to avoid him and it would be obvious. I didnât want to be a total bitch so I took a deep breath, tried to relax, and walked in.

ãHey,ä he said nervously happy.

ãHey,ä I returned.

ãHey guys, this is a friend of mine, Fran.ä

It felt charming and warm to hear him say ãfriend of mine.ä

The guys said their names and the freckled toad-head on the end made a joke that I would be tested on names later. Like we hadnât heard that one before. Couldnât he come up with something a little more original?

Why was I being so harsh? I couldnât be jealous, could I?

Mike didnât take his eyes off me which made me uncomfortable, especially since I was still pissed at him, even though he had vowed to be a real person. I believed he thought it was possible, but for me, the jury was still out.

ãListen, why donât you sit, have some java?ä

He would have never had said ãJavaä before. Already these new age alcoholics were downgrading his ability to exist in the LA culture he was used to. Java, oh please.

ãNo thanks,ä I said. I could tell he was disappointed. ãWhy donât we get together and have a drink this weekend?ä

I didnât understand why they looked as if I was stupider than Alison on Melrose Place smoking dope.

ãHow about some dinner or just lunch, no beverage?ä he said unemotionally as if even saying the word drink would mean a fall off the wagon.

ãOh, yeah yeah.ä I finally got it. ãHow about I call you?ä

ãOkay,ä he seemed satisfied.

Finally, I made it to my awaiting table and just in time, too, because some one was just about to grab it in true LA fashion.

I ordered my cappuccino and bread and started with ãVogue.ä

I glanced backed to see Mike staring at me. He smiled and I smiled back, but then I noticed the freckled face toad-head smile at me, too. He thought I was smiling at him. ãOh Brother, what a fool?ä I thought. And then he began...no he wasnât going to...it was too late to turn away, he was already in motion and he did it. The most unthinkable. He winked.