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"Wescott, room 1100!" yelled Stucky as he handed a box to a young woman, barely in her twenties.
"Wescott penthouse? Wow, what's the name on it?" she asked.
Beneath her cap, pulled low over her piercing blue eyes, lies a face that needs no makeup. Aside from her eyes, there is nothing about her appearance that is particularly unique. She is average height and has an athletic build. Her skin is slightly bronzed due to her guilty pleasure of visiting a tanning bed once a week, and her shoulder-length brunette hair is typically pulled back in a ponytail covered by a ball cap.
Cara Knox would best be described as a girl you may not notice in a crowd, but if you were lucky enough to bump into her, you may never be able to forget her.
"Madison," he replied. "Must be a big-timer to live on the 11th floor of the Westcott."
"Which usually means a lousy tip. Why is it the rich ones usually tip less than the average guys, Stuck?" Cara questioned.
"Most of them grew up with money, I suppose. Probably never learned the value of a buck or what it means to someone's income," replied Stucky. "Hurry back now, kiddo, I got three orders coming up for the Federal Building and you don't keep those guys waiting!"
Stucky, a short, stocky man in his early fifties, is the proud owner of Stucky's Place, a takeout restaurant on the corner of East 9th Street and St. Clair in downtown Cleveland. Most people who have worked downtown over the past 14 years have likely eaten food from Stucky's, at least once, and loved it. Offering a wide menu selection, they are open from breakfast until midnight, daily.
Most of his customers are corporate grunts who only have time for a quick meal to be delivered to their cubicles so they could eat while they worked. However, he also had a lot of business from the nearby hotels. Stucky, always shrewd, had garnered a deal with a few of the closest hotels when he first opened in the early 1990's. In exchange for putting a Stucky's Place menu in each room, he would send food over to each manager once a week at lunch. A small price to pay, he always said, for the business those menus brought in.
Cara walked out of Stucky's back door, which faced an alley behind the building. Only employees could use this door, which was ideal for Cara because she could hop right on her Vespa motor scooter without having to deal with the traffic on St. Clair. The motor scooter was Stucky's, but he let Cara take it home and use it around the city because it was her only means of transportation. Stucky used to work at the plant with Cara's father, and he always tried to look out for her as best he could.
After securing the box of food on the back of the scooter, Cara headed for the Westcott.
