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The Biggest Stack of Cash You've Seen in your Life
Watching the last building on Bay Street get knocked down was as hard as expected, but the tenants tied to it – Raphael, Art, Jamie, Buster, Val and Gus – decided they wanted to see it go. Wanted to say goodbye. DeeDee wept all morning and refused to come out of her van, which she was hot-boxing. Everyone else that had worked in the building – Toby, the other barista; Nicky, the owner of A Touch of Ink; the old, grumbling landlady and everyone else...to them, it was just a building. Just a job. They’d find another. But not the gang. The best years of their lives were tied to this building. This is where they met, where they became friends. Where they built up the Crypt from nothing, where Jamie manned the coffee shop with the ferocity of a mother bear protecting her cubs. This was where they housed DeeDee and her weed plants – her ‘babies – and where Buster, Val, Gus and Jamie found a place for themselves, their own little corners to live in. This was where Art collapsed after a har
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The Last Building on Bay Street We'll be Alright
My sweetest Gus,I miss you. I miss you so freaking much. I can’t even tell you just how much. I don’t think that big of a number has been invented yet. I hope you miss me that much, too. I mean, I don’t! I hope you miss me, but I also hope that you’re happy. I got your letter this morning and could barely get through the day without thinking of what to write to you. I got shouted at by my commander during drills, and I spaced out so much during cooking duty that I got smacked upside the head. Now I’m sitting in my bunk, at the desk, and writing this by candlelight. It’s late. This base is so huge, but it gets so quiet at night. Discipline, I suppose. I’m going out into town to drink with the boys tomorrow; we have leave for a couple hours, so I’ll mail this letter then. I’ll probably get drunk and whine about how much I love you again. They’re sta
The Last Building on Bay Street The Last Building on Bay Street
The smell of coffee and pastries filled the coffee shop; at this point in his young life, Jamie wanted to throw up at the smell. He’d been the barista at the coffee shop in the last building on Bay Street ever since he arrived a few years back. The coffee shop had a name – something shit and mediocre, like ‘Bay Coffee’ – but to all the regulars, it was known simply as the coffee shop. Not only did the smell make Jamie want to gag, but the rush was slow today. The estate agents had finally turned their hawk eyes on Bay Street and were starting renovations from the opposite end of the shit hole. The last building on Bay Street wasn’t safe for long, considering all the new tenants pouring into the houses down the road that wrinkled their noses at the tattered building at the very end of the street before the shabby forest started. That also meant that other than a few rough-bred regulars, no one else dared brave the coffee shop. Which meant Jamie was
The Last Building on Bay Street New Management on Bay Street
That morning, the coffee shop did not open as usual.Jamie sat at one of the worn, scratched wooden tables in the corner, ass planted firmly in the faded couches, the stuffing coming out in a few spots. His small, pale hands were wrapped around a tall glass of juice, since just the taste of anything that held caffeine made him gag. His baseball bat, which he had studded with nails he had nicked from a building site when he was thirteen, rested against his leg under the table, giving him comfort. As he concentrated on the orange liquid in his glass, he kept replaying an image of him hitting one of those werewolf gang kids over the head with his bat. He’d named it Berta. He wished he’d used Berta, before they had taken Raphael. The rest of his group looked just as miserable. Gus was on one of the mismatched chairs, knees pulled up to his chest, arms around them, staring at the steam rising from his tea with glassy, dark eyes. Val was pacing up and down the coffee sh
The Last Building on Bay Street CCTV in the Form of a Lovesick Cop
Buster was awoken, like every morning, by the soft snoring of Valentina in the bed in the opposite corner. Except today, Buster wasn’t in a happy mood. He had an internal clock that awoke him each day at six thirty am, so he could begin early and have a whole day to find jobs. But today...Buster sighed, rubbing his face without getting up. Today was the first of September – and school was back on. Six hours wasted on hearing the shit teachers at community college drone on that he could spend actually earning money. One more year, Buster reminded himself, then its goodbye compulsory education. He sat up in his too-small bed, stretched and reached out to pull the rag-tag, patchwork curtain away from the window above his bed. The weather reflected his mood – it was a grey, dull morning, rain drizzling in short bursts. It was still warm enough but Buster gave September a week before he had to dig out his old coat. He let the curtain flop back in place over the dreary landscape and stood,
The Last Building on Bay Street Candyfloss or Death
‘’Art, can I speak to you for a moment?’’Art blinked, surprised, ‘’sure, Mr March.’’‘’I’ll wait for you,’’ Buster promised, slipping from the room with the rest of the class.Art approached Jed March’s desk, where he was filing through the assignments the class had (miraculously) handed it, ‘’good lesson today,’’ Art said truthfully; he certainly enjoyed learning how to apply writing to life skills more than math or science. March offered him a quick smile, ‘’so what’s up, sir?’’ Art was eternally grateful that his mate turned out to be someone so logical. March barely ever brought up their bond and he was happy to leave Art alone, unlike a certain cop who hounded Jamie most days.‘’Tomorrow is the full moon.’’Art grinned, ‘’are you going to change into a proper werewolf? Go all ‘Wolfman’ on the town?’’‘’It’s no laughing matter, Art,’’ March said calmly, setting down the paper and lacing his fingers together on his desk, ‘’I could try to attack you.’’Art blinked, the grin disappe
The Last Building on Bay Street The First Full Moon
The moon was a round, bright shape on the sky and the fights were brimming.Val wrapped leather straps over her knuckles over and over, scanning the crowds, pin pointing possible opponents that would rise up. There was the guy whose jaw she broke last week; and the girl who had lost to Val three times in a row. Val braced herself, finishing tying the straps – tonight, half the room was out to kill her. She wasn’t going to let that happen – she never did. She stood from where she sat on one of the overturned crates on the damp floor of the underground fighting space, fashioned in one of the old train stations under the city. People sat on anything and everything they could get their hands on – many stood. The fighting pit was literally the track space between the two platforms, no longer under electricity. Sometimes it got flooded and you had to fight in disgusting, ankle-deep muck – now the tracks were relatively dry but treacherous all the same.
The Last Building on Bay Street Cadet Alex
Despite what had happened during the full moon, Diego Delarosa remained parked in front of the coffee shop. So on one particularly grey, drab September Saturday morning, Jamie was moody. There were more customers than usual – the university had finally opened for the year and the first years were busy exploring the area, quickly finding the most instagramable joints and the most run down, dodgy places that they could use to pretend they led more interesting, dark lives than they did in reality. Their constant chatter and laughter gritted on Jamie; he preferred when the coffee shop was simply filled with comatose regulars, whom the onslaught of students seemed to keep at bay. Jamie sighed, pouring lattes into tall, chipped glasses. The rush would quiet down after a few weeks, at least, but the crypt would remain abnormally packed until at least after Christmas. The rusty bell above the doors chimed for the sixth time in the past ten minutes and Jamie groaned internally, ‘
The Last Building on Bay Street Weed Goes First
Jamie was afraid of very few things – police stations were one.Walking out of the coffee shop and avoiding the Diego Delarosa parked out front was another.‘’Shit man, just go,’’ Art said, watching Jamie stare determinedly at the doors for the nth time in the last half an hour, ‘’we’re running low. We need more coffee.’’ It was a drab September Saturday and Toby caught the cold; Art eagerly volunteered to take over his shift at the coffee shop, before Buster (who was doing a street dancing act with Raphael’s brother, Carmelo) or Raphael (who took on a couple shifts at the old people’s home a half hour bus ride away) could beat him to it. But watching Jamie get too scared to walk out of the front doors was as amusing as it was fatiguing – and, as usually on Saturday mornings, they had a steady flow of students demanding coffee which was running out rather quickly.‘’What f he follows me?’’ Jamie asked uneasily, craning his neck to glare at the police car idling on the curb. It had bee
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