One more block! Don’t fail me, feet! Sandy chanted in her head over and over again. Her calf muscles were groaning in protest but nevertheless she kept on running. This is the chance she couldn't afford to miss. Not again!

She felt as if her lungs crept up when she finally rounded the corner of 6th Street. Her particular destination was the small coffee shop across. Three spotlights illuminating the sign above the entrance read Cafe Bonitá in bold of maroon over . She hope the man she was after hasn’t left yet. Or else she may have to curse that inconsiderate first class a-hole in an expensive suit in her head again.

A lady doesn’t swear. Nana would be frowning by now. Especially because Sandy didn’t feel sorry one bit for the expletives which spewed from her lips earlier. In fact, those words rolling off her tongue felt satisfying.

Heads turned in her direction as she made a stumbling entrance. She didn’t care, they’re insignificant as far as she’s concerned. Her eyes scanned the cozy cafe while trying to ignore the scent of coffee teasing her nose. He’s not here.

“Psssst! Sandy!”

Bommie was behind the counter, looking like a doll in her black and maroon barista outfit. Her barely there makeup emphasized her porcelain features, making her look younger than her actual age.

“Bommie, where is he?” she demanded, breaths coming in short bursts.

“You haven’t read my texts?”

Sandy pursed her lips when the image of an ash-blonde, suit-wearing homosapien came to her mind. “I had a little situation on my way here.”

“You just missed him by a couple of minutes.”

“Damn!”

“By now, he’s in Charington Hotel down at 7th Street. You wouldn’t be wasting your time here if you had read my messages,” Bommie said, punching Sandy’s arm playfully.

“Thanks Bommie.”

“I’ll be out in an hour. What do you want for dinner? Italian?”

“I’m not picky, you know we eat anything edible.”

Giggling like school girls who spotted their crush, they bade each other goodbyes.

It took Sandy ten minutes to get to Charington Hotel and found Martin Kroer at the lounge. At seventy-five, the man was still attracting attention from young and old ladies alike. His eye smiles still did wonders to his face.

Sandy took her time and waited for his guest to depart. Learning his whereabouts was just pure coincidence. Bommie happened to overhear his conversation on the phone while serving him earlier at the cafe. He’s not even a regular at Cafe Bonita.

She got lost in her thoughts that she lost her focus on the man. Mr. Kroer was already heading for the exit when she snapped back to her senses.

Oh shoot! “Mr. Kroer! Sir!” she called loudly as she can while running towards him.

His silver head whipped in her direction, eyebrows knitting as she approached. Two burly men in black suits with identical ear pieces stepped in, blocking Sandy’s view of the man. Where did they come from? She didn’t see them with Mr. Kroer earlier. They look menacing. Sandy’s steps faltered.

“S-Sorry Mr. Kroer. I j-just wanted your autograph.”

A soft chuckle came from behind the two mountain of men. Mr. Kroer’s hand tapped one of their shoulders, a command to step out of the way.

“You’re too young to be my fan.”

“Yes sir. I am not into Jazz either. This is for my grandmother.”

“Pray tell what kind of music are you into?” Mr. Kroer drawled in his rich baritone, flashing her his infamous smile which drove hordes of men and women to his concerts and fan meetings.

He’s quite a looker for a man his age, she must admit. She felt the blooming of pink on her cheeks to her horror. “K-pop and RnB, Sir.”

“K-pop huh?” A ghost of a smile lingered on his lips. “Where should I sign?”

Sandy quickly handed him his own picture she found among Nana’s belongings and a black marker.

“Your grandma’s name?” he inquired, slim hand holding the marker, it’s tip hovering over the photo’s surface. Such beautiful hands, she mused.

“Margarette.”

In less than a minute, it was done. His signature seemed to be flowing, the elegant script surprising her. Another thing crossed out from Nana’