I don't know what is was that struck me to write this. Pride and Prejudice isn't exactly something that I ever imagined myself writing Fanfiction for, but after I read someone's Fanfic based on Pride and Prejudice, it inspired me to look up the book again and try and write for this archive. Emphasis on the try.
Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice.
Song for this chapter: Monster by Eminem ft Rihanna.
"Would a smile kill you?" Charlotte asks, clucking her tongue as she stares at my face closely. "You look as though you're being taken in for your beheading."
"Maybe that's where I feel I'm being taken," I say crossly.
"Lizzy, you're never going to find happiness like this," Jane chimes in with her perfectly sweet voice. "You always find the smallest things as nuisances."
"Because they are," I insist, but my sister won't hear it.
"I won't hear it," Jane says as if to read my mind. "Weren't you saying you wanted a job? Well, now you have one. With us." She smiles then, and Charlotte smiles as well, but I suspect Charlotte's smile is to spite me.
"I needed a job solely to pay for my college," I argue. "I did not want one."
"Verbs- what use are they?" Jane shrugs it off. "The point is, Lizzy, that you'll be happy here! A coffee shop is just the place you like to go to, anyway, so why wouldn't you like working here? You've come here before."
"When I got a job, I pictured someplace I didn't have to interact with people," I remind her, and Jane laughs.
"Oh, you'll love it here. It feels like home." Jane assures me, but somehow I still find her assurance doubtful. Home already feels like hell since my mother's been obsessed with me marrying, since she finds my ambition to be a criminal investigator as a bad choice for a woman and thinks I need a man to help me find my way in life. So the chances of this place feeling like home, well, they already feel likely, if this place is hell as well.
"Of course, minus your mother here, of course," Charlotte adds, and I can't help but smile. Charlotte, being my best friend for years, of course knows how my mother is. Besides, her mother is just like mine: overbearing. Charlotte's mother expresses her own disdain over her daughter's refusal to marry, especially since Charlotte wants to pursue psychology. Or in her mother's definition, hogwash.
"Thank God." I remark, and Charlotte and I laugh. Jane looks as though she wants to defend mother, but finally she gives in and just ties on her apron. Charlotte and I follow suit, but not before I make another remark on the uniform, which Charlotte and Jane both agree is stupid.
"Remember that smile," Charlotte says as we step out from the back room to open the coffee shop. I scowl in her direction, but she just grins cheekily, because she knows how much I detest smiling at people I don't know.
Jane, however, is a pro, and she's by far the most wonderful at smiling of the three of us. Already she's greeting a customer, smiling at everyone, and being the naturally kind and sweet saint she is as she opens the door and turns the closed sign to show the place is open.
I, in the meantime, try to disappear as people come in.
Charlotte greets a few, and she takes some orders, while I stand, frozen. It's not my place here at all. Someone goes over to me, and I realize people are forming a line at the register I'm manning. I realize this means I have to take people's orders, so I try and swallow whatever detestation I have for speaking to strangers and begin.
"Hello," I manage to say, and that's all I can say before the guy in line cuts me off.
"Hello there. You're quite pretty; do you have a boyfriend? What's your name? Allow me to introduce myself: I am William Collins, but you may call me Collins, or even Mr. Collins. As for an order, I'll take your finest cup of coffee with a slight dust of chocolate on top and doused with caramel. Now may I have your name? Oh, and on the coffee, a small spoonful of whipped topping with suffice. This drink is for a grand woman: Catherine de Bourgh, if you must know. Not to heavy with the milk, either, in the coffee." The guy finally stops talking and waits for me to say something. I blink and stare uncomprehendingly.
"Lizzy, I'll take this," Jane whispers and she gently nudges me aside, coming back from opening the place and perpetually greeting and smiling at everyone.
"Hello there," Collins says at seeing Jane. "You're quite pretty-"
"I heard your order, sir, and it'll be out in just a minute." Jane hurries to say. She writes it all down and then hands me the paper. "Here, Lizzy. You can make some of the orders if you'd like instead."
"Now how is she going to get out like that?" Charlotte wisecracks from her register.
"Fine," I snatch the paper and go to the back. Jane continues charming the customers, Charlotte manages them easily, and I make coffee half-heartedly. I manage to burn myself several times, which clearly demonstrates that I am not cut out for working here, but I keep going. As most of the customers go off, some even seating themselves at our tables, I go out of the back room and join Charlotte and Jane again.
"Real smooth out there," Charlotte mentions, and I huff.
"You know I hate talking to people. Especially when they talk like that." I say.
"You mean when they actually speak?" Charlotte teases.
"It's her first day," Jane interjects. "I think Lizzy's doing well."
"In all fairness, Jane, you say something nice about everything." I roll my eyes. "Last time I made breakfast and burned just about everything, you said it was delicious but later had to throw it all up."
"You ate something Eliza made?" Charlotta asks, incredulous. "That alone means you're hardcore."
"Oh, shut up, Charlotte." I snap, and Charlotte smirks my way in response.
"Since Lizzy's going to work here a while," Charlotte changes the subject, "we should warn her about some things. Like the back door, for example. It never locks quite right, so we jam a door under it every day. Always make sure it's there."
"And don't forget the last register doesn't work," Jane adds. "It'll bill a person three times than what they owe. Once, someone walked away after paying the wrong price, thinking we charged way too much for a cup of coffee and a scone!"
"It made Jane feel like she was a criminal for about a week," Charlotte nods. "We took the extra money, though. We decided to count it as a tip."
"Excuse me, but only you did that." Jane is startled, and Charlotte laughs. I can't hide a smile myself.
My best friend and my sister- of course they're bound to get each other. I'd come to see them both, often, at this very coffee shop, but I would never hear these stories. I don't mind that my best friend and my sister know things that I don't, however; they have every right to be friends. In fact, I like that they are, even if they don't quite truly understand each other like I understand each of them.
"Let's not forget Friday nights," Charlotte says. "That's when all the delinquents come in."
"Charlotte," Jane scolds, "they are not delinquents."
"Ah, sorry," Charlotte agrees. "The town bastards, then."
I have to bite back a smile.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say. "Is there anything else?"
"One more thing," Charlotte says. "Our boss doesn't like it when we converse with people a lot, so refrain from that. Though that should be right up your alley."
"Haha," I say sourly. "Is that it?"
"Basically," Jane finishes for Charlotte. "It's going to be fun, Lizzy. You'll see."
"Right." I say simply. "Um, here comes another customer."
"I'll take this one." Jane doesn't even look to see who it is before she turns. "Hello, may I take your order?" She then smiles her perfect smile, but I notice she has to bite back a gasp at the handsome young man that smiles right back.
Charlotte doesn't hide her own shock, but I'm left reeling in confusion.
"What is it?" I whisper, and Charlotte shoves me aside, to the back room.
"That's Charles Bingley," Charlotte hisses violently. "He's like a town legend!"
"How?" I scoff as I study him from where I stand. He looks average: red hair, sparkling grey eyes, and casual clothing, which are all contributing factors to his natural charisma. Alright, he's handsome, but he still looks like an average guy, not some town legend.
"He's rich. And single. Do you know how many women lust over him?" Charlotte says.
"That doesn't really qualify him for being a town legend."
"Not a legend, exactly, but he ranks as good as a celebrity. My sources say that he's looking for a wife." Charlotte lowers her voice. "Maybe even in this town."
"God, are people really that gossip-deprived?" I roll my eyes. "It's stupid for people to obsess over this."
To be honest, someone who's rich doesn't exactly strike me as desirable just because they're rich. It's foolish for anyone to think that a rich man is a good match for them just because he's rich. It's even more foolish how they obsess over who he might marry. After all, it's no one's business but his own.
"Maybe," Charlotte agrees, "but as humans we're all stupid."
"You can say that again." I mumble.
The door to the back room opens and Jane enters. She immediately sets to making three cups of coffee.
"Jane, do you need help?" I ask, but she won't hear it (again).
"No, but thank you, Lizzy." Jane casually says as she works on the coffee cups. "One of you might want to go over to the counter, however, for there might be more customers."
Charlotte goes with a declaration that we're all lazy, and she leaves, which only prolongs an awkward silence between myself and Jane. I want to ask if Charles is nice, but that only seems like a weird topic. Jane, however, has such a starry gaze to her eyes that I do want to ask.
"So," I tentatively go for it, "is Charles nice?"
"What?" Jane blushes so hard it's like I've asked her if Charles has proposed. "I mean, yes. He seems like quite the gentleman."
"And you got all that from his order?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Well, we talked about some other things," Jane admits. "He's in college, too. His major is Business. He isn't from here, though, so he doesn't go to our college..."
"Then why's he so famous here?" I cut her off.
"His father is the mayor," Jane says slowly, as if she thinks I'm slow.
"Oh," I mutter, because I haven't heard this news. Honestly, Charlotte has to become a better source of information. Or maybe she left out that part on purpose. Anyhow, the gossip makes more sense. After all, people wouldn't be as shallow to look into every rich guy's life...or maybe they would, but that's not the point.
"Can you take these up to the register? They're number twenty-seven," Jane says. "I'll clean up."
"I'd rather clean up..."
"You need to work out of the back room, you know." Jane motions to the door, and I sigh and go.
Charlotte shoots me a look as I enter. I make the motion of beheading, and Charlotte stifles a laugh.
"Number twenty-seven," I call as loudly as I dare, and I see someone stand and make his way over to me.
He is the male that is with Charles. I never looked much at him deeply, but as I look at him, I realize he's as handsome as Charles is, if not more. He's tall, with dark hair and deep blue eyes. His white button-up shirt and khaki pants contrast with Charles and his jeans and T-shirt, making this guy look more like a mayor's son than Charles does.
"Thank you," he says stiffly as he reaches for the first two cups, and then for the third. I try and hand it to him, but at that moment, my hand slips.
Slips.
Yes, the universe hates me, if that's not understood yet.
The coffee spills down the guy's shirt.
Charlotte snorts from where she is, no doubt from having to hold back a laugh. I gape, horrified, as the guy jumps from the hot coffee touching his clothes. He drops the other two cups, and they fall with noisy- and undoubtedly wet- sounds. He looks at me with a cold gaze, and I refrain from shivering.
"Sorry." I finally find my voice, and I hand him a few napkins. He takes them, but he won't relent his cold gaze, which now is seemingly penetrating my soul.
"You should be," he grumbles, and I pause.
Did he just say that?
"Darcy, are you okay?!" the girl that is with Charles is near passing out when she sees the guy before me drenched in coffee.
The guy- Darcy- doesn't bother to answer. Instead he just stares at me again.
"Here," I toss him more napkins, but I find my tone has gone cold. While I don't like talking to people- and not because I'm shy or anything- I know how to react to jerks like this guy clearly is. He takes the napkins, but he just sets them down.
"I'm fine," this Darcy says. Lo and behold, he also says that coldly. "I don't need any more."
"Fine." I snap without thinking. "I'll go and get you your coffees-"
"Don't bother," he interrupts me. "We'll take our money back instead."
That snaps the last straw for me.
"Excuse me, but we don't give refunds." I try and sound cold, but my voice cracks with anger.
Charlotte looks my way, and I can almost hear her thoughts. She's thinking, of course, that I'm insane for telling a customer off. She must be even calculating how many minutes longer I will have this job. She's always had better judgement than I have.
"Then maybe you should start." Darcy glares at me, really glares, and it infuriates me.
"I'll keep that in mind, sir," I say icily, because even though he doesn't look much older than me, I'll be damned if I ever call him anything out of the ordinary than formalities.
"Ahem," Charlotte cuts in, "I'll tell Jane to start on the order."
I know she's interrupted us to keep any other sort of icy encounters away, but even she can't melt the ice that seems to have lodged itself between us. Darcy stares at me a few more seconds before he turns and walks away, back to where the others are. It takes all I am not to chuck something at his head.
As Charlotte goes, she leaves me as the only employee out there. Great.
Whatever did I do to deserve such a wonderful job?
After I've taken a few orders, and taken them all to the back room, Charlotte decides to go out in my place. Jane is still brewing the coffee for Charles, Darcy, and the girl that I haven't gotten the pleasure of knowing yet.
And yes, that was wholeheartedly sarcasm.
I hope for her sake she's more like Charles, not Darcy.
"I have some orders," I inform Jane as I take over where she's working.
"That's good. I'll just take these coffees out," Jane says. "Um- is everything alright? You seem a little tense."
"Everything's wonderful," I say, and Jane, though not very competent with sarcasm, knows my words reflect it.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks in her soft voice. The kind of voice that feels motherly. The kind that makes you want to spill out your life's troubles.
Still, it does nothing for me.
"No," I say surely. "Just- get those people their coffee."
Jane lingers a minute, doubting my words, but she finally goes. I try and lose myself in brewing coffee, even though I hate the tedious work. Charlotte comes in, holdling a piece of paper.
"Mind making these? I have to deal with the line."
She knows I don't mind, so long as I don't have to face anyone again.
"Sure," I mumble as I take the paper. "Is this all one order?"
"Yeah." Charlotte lingers a little, just like Jane did. "Was that guy that much of a jerk?"
Unfortunately, she can also read me as well as Jane can.
"Definitely," I say. "Rude and an asshole."
"I figured." Charlotte smiles before she goes out again, and I smile a little to myself.
Random or not, Charlotte always makes me feel better.
I exit the back room with all the coffees made, and Charlotte calls out the numbers for me, mostly out of kindness, but also to tease me about how she can't have me sassing the customers anymore. I make sure to empty a sugar packet over the back of her apron when she's not looking.
No more customers are in line, so Jane and Charlotte reveal something else us employees must do: clean restrooms.
Did I mention how much I enjoy this job?
As Jane and I take mops and buckets out, Charles approaches her. Of course she begins talking to him, and our job is seemingly forgotten. I'm fine with it, but Charlotte just shakes her head at me at the sight of Jane and Charles. They seem to have hit it off far too well. He seems far too peppy and hyper to be normal, but Jane is the perfect contrast for him: quiet and sweet.
Finally, Charles leaves with a promise to come back, and he goes with Darcy to the restroom.
Forget girls flocking together to go to the restroom- these two are worse.
"He's really sweet," Jane sighs as she joins me.
"Uh-huh." I stare at her a little longer than I intend to, because I'm sure I've connected the dots.
"What?" Jane catches on.
"Nothing."
"I've got to hear this," Charlotte lights up, and she joins us. "That's your fuck-no-I-can't-believe-this face."
"It's obvious," I say defensively. "Charles is gay."
The words last a second before Charlotte bursts into laughter.
"Lizzy, that's quite a judgment." Jane is quick to say so, and I know she disagrees, but is too kind to say so.
"Who the fuck goes off with another male to a bathroom?" I cross my arms. "Come on. And his hair is styled a little too perfectly, if you ask me. And he's really peppy. Not to mention that he hasn't even stared down Jane's shirt yet. If he wasn't gay, he would've."
"Or he's a respectful guy," Jane chimes in. "As for the bathroom thing, you and Charlotte go together all the time."
"But I'm not dating Charlotte," I remind her.
"Charles isn't dating Darcy, either," Jane says. "They're best friends."
"Maybe he's in the closet," Charlotte offers, and I nod.
Thank you.
"Please don't judge him that quickly," Jane hurries to say. "I'm not saying it'd be wrong if he is gay, but he may or may not find it offensive. Besides, he mentioned that he was looking to date a nice girl-"
"That's what people in the closet do, Jane," Charlotte says pointedly. "They hide their sexual orientation."
"Oh, but I'm sure..." Jane's words fall as Charlotte interrupts.
"I want to find out. What do you say, Eliza?"
"What are you suggesting?" I look curiously at my best friend. Charlotte is sometimes far too devious for her own good.
"Let's go clean the bathroom," Charlotte suggests. "Aren't they off in there?"
"What will that prove?" Jane's getting flustered. She's not nearly as devious as Charlotte is, so Charlotte's comment falls through for her, resulting only in Jane's confusion. "You can't go in the men's restroom when people are in there."
"Who said anything about the men's restroom?" Charlotte asks innocently.
"For the record, you made me do this. I had nothing to do with it."
"Whatever, Elizabeth...look, stand here and press your ear here. I'll guard the door while you listen." Charlotte instructs me. "I'll tell any girls trying to enter that we're cleaning...hey, did you even bring a mop? How is my lie going to be believable?"
"I brought a mop. Now shut up, I think they're washing their hands," I snap, and Charlotte quiets.
"Come on, Darcy, the people here are really nice," I hear Charles say. "It wouldn't hurt for you to talk to someone."
"Want to bet?" Darcy's voice comes clear as day. "The girl giving me coffee almost did."
"That was Elizabeth, Jane's sister," Charles says cheerfully. "She's lovely, isn't she? Just like Jane is. Jane seems really nice...don't you think so?"
"Very..." Darcy's tone indicates he doesn't think so. "Can we just leave already? Caroline doesn't seem to be enjoying herself, either."
"Try and talk to people, Darcy. I bet Elizabeth is as nice as Jane is." Charles is hopeful, of course, and also totally wrong. No one is as nice as Jane is. "Besides, you can't deny that she's pretty. Just like Jane is..."
Pretty. Ha, that's a laugh. Jane has always been the fairer one, and compared to her, I don't hold a candle.
"She isn't pretty enough to tempt me," Darcy says cooly. "She seems like an idiot, if you ask me."
I pull my ear away from the wall right then and there.
That asshole.
"So, what'd they say?" Charlotte looks my way expectantly.
"Nothing much," I mumble. "I don't think they're gay."
"So no sex going on in there. Got it." Charlotte jokes, but even I can't scrape up a smile at her words.
"I think I'll just go now," I say. "The place might have more customers."
Charlotte doesn't question me. She's a real best friend sometimes.
As we exit, who should come out of the bathroom but Charles and Darcy. Immediately I try and think of a way to show I hate Darcy's guts without letting Charlotte on that they were talking about me. I find that I can't. Besides, I shouldn't even care what this bastard thinks.
Right?
Jane talks to Charles for the rest of the afternoon. Charlotte and I handle the customers, and I even manage not to spill coffee on them. Luckily for Jane and Charlotte, I'm never provoked to do so. Maybe if I'm lucky, Darcy will think that's why I spilled coffee on him- because I hated him.
"What do you think the chances are that Jane will get Bingley's number?" Charlotte asks after a while.
"Bingley?" I echo.
"That's his last name." Charlotte shrugs. "Since we call his best friend by his last name, I figured I'd keep it up."
"Who do you call by their last name?" I question curiously.
"Darcy, of course. His real name is Fitzwilliam. Can you believe it? Who names their kid that?"
"When did you hear this?" I don't care, of course, but I am still curious.
"Everyone knows that. Darcy's kind of famous, like Charles sort of is. I don't know what you might call them exactly. But the point is, Darcy's some sort of businessman. Sucessful and rich, all while at a young age. He works at the law firm Pemberly. Word is, he runs the place. How have you not heard?" Charlotte shakes her head at me like I'm hopeless. "Anyway, stop changing the subject. Chances. Go."
"The chances look very high," I say after consideration. "Are you planning a bet?"
"No, but I'm thinking it's going to happen anytime soon."
Jane, I notice, is leaning over the counter and talking animatedly to Bingley, who leans forward just as much as she does, leaving their faces close together. By their blushes, I can tell they're both very conscious of this, yet make no move to do anything about it. Jane keeps tucking her hair behind her ear and Charles- I mean, Bingley- keeps running his fingers through his own hair. They're both so awkward. And cute.
Damn them.
I decide to make myself a coffee. The day's been too long, and even though it's a Saturday night, all I want to do is sleep. Taking the coffee shop all day on Saturdays suddenly sounds like the worst idea we've ever had. Then again, it pays every hour, and it's our best-paying day, too. I sip at my coffee and sit behind the register next to Charlotte on two chairs we've dragged there. I feel like I'm being watched, and I turn to stare at Charlotte, but she's drifting off to sleep somehow.
Then my eyes connect with blue ones.
He's staring at me. The nerve of the bastard.
When my eyes meet his, he looks down at an iPad he's reading off of. The girl that was with them- that I can now call Caroline- leans forward and tries to talk to him, even going as far to touch his arm numerous times. I try not to laugh at this display, but he looks far too unhappy to be with Caroline and it gives me some sort of satisfaction.
Charlotte's head rolls over and she awakes with a jolt.
"I dozed off," she mutters the obvious. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I figured you should get some sleep, sleeping beauty," I say teasingly.
"Our boss would kill me if he knew," Charlotte huffs. "When is it closing time?"
"Not for another three hours. Why is this place open until ten?" I complain, and she shrugs.
"For desperate coffee goers. By the way, we should start cleaning up around here."
"Maybe," I say carelessly. Charlotte squints at me a little.
"Are you drinking coffee? Without me?"
"Just go and get some, stupid," I say, and she does, after declaring she will.
But that's Charlotte for you.
I go back to my sitting, and I realize he's staring again. I want to go over and tell him off, but I don't.
Fitzwilliam Darcy is not, and will not, be someone I concern myself over.
If only saying something actually guarantees it won't happen.
I'd like to stop and thank everyone for reading this. It means a lot. :)
So if you can, please review. I'd love to hear how I can improve,, and what you guys thought about this. Also, maybe you guys can drop me the title of any good Pride and Prejudice fanfictions? I've been trying to find a good one.