Chapter 4
Jacksonville, FL
“I’LL BE IN FRONT of your building in five minutes,” Mike said.
“Good. I’m more than ready to get out of here.”
I was waiting when he pulled up in front of the building. I hopped in the car, leaned over, and kissed him briefly.
“What’s your pleasure?” he said.
“Food, you, bed.”
“In that order?”
“More or less.”
“How hungry are you?”
“Not terribly,” I said. “I had lunch at a Cuban restaurant, and you know how much I like that.”
“Was it good?”
“It was different. I had picadillo, but it was a little soupier than we get locally. The flan was good too.”
“Antipasto?”
“That’ll do, and it’s on the way home.”
Over the antipasto, another specialty of the Pizza Italian at Five Points, I told him about my evening and morning in Orlando, and about my new Orlando
