Aaron shooed me away from the counter with an order to watch the front door. I knew it was crap, and he’s not in charge, but I’m not exactly on the top of the totem pole. Still, I watched them more than I watched the strip mall world outside the glass storefront.

At least it was amusing. Young towered over everybody, making his points with his fist on the counter as much as he was with what he said in hushed tones. The poor geeks, the suppliers, just cowered, gradually inching away from the mass of street tough that was Young. But Aaron, and I give him credit for this, he wasn’t backing down.

Aaron’s no geek, mind you. He generally comes across as a cross between Will Smith and P. Diddy. Tough ain’t his strong suit, but it doesn’t have to be. He’s charming, smart, and plenty devious. But I was about to learn where he fell on the loyalty spectrum.

Young sauntered back to me, his usual gruff expression on display. He slapped a ten in my hand and said apologetically, “You should go get some yogurt.”