Travis headed outside for a smoke. He couldn’t light up inside; Felicia barely tolerated his habit at all, so she surely wasn’t going to allow it in closed quarters.
He sat down on the stoop and placed his ashtray and lighter next to him.
It was raining. Perfect. He scooted as far back on the stoop as he could get so he’d be as far under the awning as possible. The awning didn’t do much, though. He was still getting wet, and it was starting to rain harder.
It was a lousy moment to be a smoker, and as Travis reached up to his shoulder for his cigarettes, he realized this was all Pat Harrington, Jr.’s fault. If the guy hadn’t been so cool as Schneider on One Day At A Time, Travis never would have wanted to imitate the character’s “pack of smokes rolled up in the shirt sleeve” look, never would have bought that first pack of cigarettes to make the look happen, and never would have thought to himself, “Eh, I bought the cigarettes–it’d be a shame for them to go to waste.”
Travis took a long drag off the cigarette, shivered against the cold, and looked down at his denim vest. He knew two things for sure: His vest was getting tattered and needed to be replaced, and if he ever met Pat Harrington, Jr., he was going to give him what for.