Bring On The Rain

The deep-gray sky brewing over Las Vegas bustled like a Kentucky Derby horse waiting to run out of the gate when a Cafe Poetica waiter snapped Jensen Sparks away from his upward concern at an outside table.

"Another rum, sir?"

Jensen, sitting in a wicker chair, slowly reeled his eyes up at the waiter.

"Sure, why not. And this time, could you actually add the rum. Thanks."

He'd already had three drinks this afternoon, but he didn't care, he was being audited by the I.R.S. for reasons he'd rather not ever think about.

"Absolutely, sir. That’s some crazy looking weather there, huh?" Asked the hovering waiter.

The unlucky roulette gambler didn't answer him and peered up at the darkening clouds with a gloom that personally seemed fitting for just him, he surmised.

And he didn't think he'd need to bring along an umbrella. But really, that was the least of his worries and he knew it. At this point, any and all less-stressful distractions would seem good company from here on out. 

"Would you like anything to eat, sir?"

Jensen had to smirk with a slight madness, but his gaze was still skyward, "Um, yes. A hot cherry cheese danish would be nice. Just bring me the drink, make it a double, that’s all."

The waiter spewed a look of disdain at Jensen, and then at the rumbling sky above, before he turned and went back into the cafe. Just then, heavy drops of wet gray brew fell everywhere.

And Jensen Sparks, fool of fools, just sat there with eyes of further doom, waiting for that last humdrum drink.