The barista was taking forever with her pumpkin spice latte. It seemed everyone in the universe was ordering one today. Ana Lucia stood at the end of the counter, where all the specialty drink customers congregated in a quietly impatient cluster. Or at least Ana was impatient. Call it the New Yorker/Jersey girl in her (she'd lived on both sides of the Hudson River at some point growing up). Californians just didn't seem to have the get up and go she did.
Not that she was going anywhere. She had agreed to meet this David at the coffee shop. He was the closest thing to a New Yorker Ana had encountered thus far during her months here, and the fact he had been in the process of being in the Police Academy for the NYPD intrigued her.