Tuesday, September 6, 2011


Starbucks is the place for when you want to meet an icon. First Bon Jovi, then Jesus, now Frank. For those of you who don't know who Frank is, he is the hero in my sci fi series. He is what I believe to be my ultimate man.

Anyhow, Ali told me a few weeks ago she swore she saw my Frank at Starbucks, but was so stunned by the likeness she couldn't speak. I teetered on believing her. After all I wouldn't put it past her to pull some elaborate joke just to get me to sit at Starbucks waiting for him.

However, today I was standing there waiting on my drink, listening to Josh the barista boy talk about Scooby Doo when ... He walked in.

It was as if he truly stepped from the pages of my novel. Like a scene from a movie. The backdrop of daylight cast behind him causing his towering figure to be a mere silhouette. Then he emerged into focus. My twisted mind heard the music to Journey's 'Anyway you want it', because you know, Frank loves Journey. I heard the music in my mind as he did the exact same Frank-style strut of arrogance. His hair was short, almost buzzed cut and black. He had a goatee, dark eyes, the slightly crooked nose and the scar under his right eye. Ok maybe he didn't have the scar, he may have, I don't know, but let's say he did.

My eyes were transfixed. I couldn't help but stare. I inwardly gasped, “My God, it's Frank.” Then he spoke and ordered his drink. His voice was raspy and deep. Now, see that kind of threw off the fantasy. He ordered a vanilla latte. Frank wouldn't order that. He'd order a shot in the dark.

I was gonna talk to him. I had to, at least ask this man if he'd pose for a picture (I know whacked) then it hit me and the Journey song playing in my mind, screeched to grinding halt. I couldn't approach him. Me and the babies were having comfy day. There I was, hair pulled on top of my head, baggy, long pink checkered shorts and a blue tee short that said, 'Zombies Fear me'.. Ug. So hurriedly I raced to the car. Ali was with the babies. I told her to look and tell me if that was the same Frank. It was. And . . . he was parked right next to me.

“Ohmygod, he’s next to us. He’s getting in the car. He’s getting in the car. It’s Frank.”
“Quit staring!” Ali said.
“I can't stop. It's Frank. Look he's staring back.”
“Cause he's wondering why you're staring at him.”
“Maybe he thinks I'm hot . . .” Pause. “Ok, maybe not.”

Frank pulled out. I did too. Ali blasted me because she had to get out of the car and go to work. I followed his green car just round the parking. Long enough to accidentally get his license plate number. I was thinking of calling the PD and saying his car door hit mine at Starbucks. But I think I'll just not be a creeper and hope to run into him again.

1 comment:

  1. Hi Jacqueline,

    My name is Adam Hornyak and I am the Director of Front Row Lit (www.frontrowlit.com), a literary publicity website and spinoff site of Pittsburgh-based magazine Front Row Monthly (www.frontrowmonthly.com). My editor sent me your blog and I wanted to touch base. If you'd be interested in us featuring your work, and/or providing guest posts, we'd love to talk about it. I can be reached at 240-285-6764 or by email at adamh@frontrowmonthly.com.

    Thanks for your time,