Warren Brey sat in Holt’s Cafe sipping an espresso. He watched the stock market feed on the laptop before him, and also the parking garage half a block away. His usual waiter, Ian, returned with scones and jam, and sat down.
Normally a waiter joining a customer was right out, but Warren was a personable sort, especially for a billionaire.
“I’m just curious,” said Ian. “Why do you watch the parking garage so carefully?”
“I own the garage.”
“Also, I’m waiting for Harold Joiner to arrive.”
“The MP? The one with the Jaguar hover car?”
“The very same. He likes to hover his car into the upper deck, take the best parking spot, and later hover back out without ever paying.”
“What a punter! Must be infuriating.”
Warren grinned. “When I see him enter, I have my mechanics remove one counter-gravity pod. It unbalances the car and makes it impossible to fly.”
“Oh, that’s brilliant!”
“Not really. He stashes them inside his car. He just loads another one in and flies off.”
“Scott free, then?”
“Well, they cost £200,000 each.”
“But you’re still getting ripped off.”
Warren smiled beatifically. “Not really. I own the company that makes the counter-gravity pods.”
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction: https://sundayphotofictioner.wordpress.com/2018/03/11/sunday-photo-fiction-march-11th-2018/