I was sitting in Steve's old spot by the window when Jenn rushed upto me and said it.
"Computers!"
"I heard you the first time, my little Care Bear. What aboutthem?" I stuck a clean napkin in my copy of Gore Vidal's "Pa-limpsest" (which I adore, by the way) and gave her my attention.
"I read in a magazine about how cafes all over the worldhave computers hooked up to each other."
"Yes?"
"We should do it, too!" She paused a sec and bit down on herlower lip. "We'd make a fortune!"
"It would cost a fortune." She got a disappointed look on herface, very quickly, so I backtracked. "Not that it doesn't soundinteresting."
She brightened up, again. "We could call it Hugo's Mocha DazeCyber-Cafe!"
By George, I think she's got it.
Barbra is a wonder.
The closest thing to the Wicked Witch of the West that thisDorothy has ever come up against.
The thing is, she doesn't even need a broom. She's a tornado allby herself.
"You're late on your rent." she said, loud enough so that everyone inthe shop swiveled in their chairs as she strode intothe room. I could see Peter standing outside, looking in.
I walked from behind the counter, wrapped a hand around her elbowand escorted her back the way that she came.
"Let go of my arm!" she pleaded.
I squeezed the joint of her arm tighter, hoping I was hurting her. "I have a right to be in here!"
I stopped, swung her around and pointed a