New story! I was at a loss for a title, but then I was listening to Bea Miller's song, and this title just seemed to fit!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters.
Clarissa Fairchild-Morgenstern took in a deep breath, rubbing her hand over her face. She was pretty certain, that the next arrogant prick who thought he could 'innocently' brush his hand over her ass was going to get a slap to the face. Or a broken nose. It really depended on whether or not she was holding anything. If she was cleaning utensils, she might even stab one of them in their grabby hands with a fork—once again, it all depended. She walked back behind the counter, picking up the rag she had been wiping down the bench with and rinsing it out under the tap in the front sink.
"Order up," came a call from the cook, and she looked between over the counter that separated the kitchen from the front of house serving area. Simon Lewis gave her a half smile as he jerked his head over to the latest round of men that she had taken lunch orders from. "Just ignore them," he told her.
"Yeah, easy for you to say," Clary muttered with a roll of her eyes. "Back there with only grease and cheeseburgers to harass you." She couldn't help it though, she liked the kid. He was the only one that made this place bearable.
"Don't you mock me, Clary," Simon pointed his spatula at her with a grin. "Go and serve your customers."
"Oh, is that what they are?" Clary grumbled under her breath as she picked up the two plates, which were piled high with food that looked as though it had all just been thrown into a blender and then deep fried, and walked it out to the table with two leering men. When she came back, there was a couple waiting in front of her till. She forced a smile as she reached them. "Hi there, welcome to Taki's Diner. What can I get you today?"
"Can I just have a cheeseburger with a chocolate milkshake?" The man asked with a friendly smile. Clary punched in his order and then looked over at his partner.
"I'll have a soy latte," The girl asked, her little button nose scrunched up as she studied the menu. "And do you have any bran muffins?" Clary stared at her for a second, as though trying to gauge whether or not she was serious before blinking, forcing herself to keep her facial expression blank.
"No, sorry," she replied. "If you're looking for Starbucks I'm pretty sure you're in the wrong town."
"Do you even do soy latte's?" The girl asked snootily.
"Nope," Clary shook her head.
"Any kind of lattes?"
"The only sort of coffee we serve here comes from that instant coffee maker over there," Clary wiggled her finger over at the sad looking coffee machine in the corner of the room. The look of disgust on the girls face was almost priceless before she finally muttered,
"I'll just get a bottle of water."
"That'll be twelve dollars all up," Clary turned her gaze back to the man, who willingly pushed some notes over the counter and then grabbed his girlfriend, leading her away. Clary's called out that they needed a cheeseburger over her shoulder to Simon and then glared after the couple. There was nothing wrong with the man, but she couldn't stand girls like that. Maybe it had something to do with her stubborn, no-nonsense nature, or maybe it had something to do with her upbringing, and the fact that no one would ever dare show her that kind of disrespect if they actually knew who she was.
"Uh, Clary?" Simon had been trying to get her attention for the past few seconds, saying her name, and she shook her head, looking over to him. He was frowning, and she tilted her head to the side, and he nodded his head down at her. She was folding the pen in her hand so hard that it had actually snapped and the ink was leaking onto her palm. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Clary forced a smile, something that she was getting very good at these days. "Just peachy."
"If you're sure," he arched an eyebrow uncertainly but she just kept the plastic smile on her face. He was about to back away from the counter when there was a shout from one of the assholes that had made a pass at Clary when she had leaned over to wipe down their table.
"Hey, Simon! How's that pretty girlfriend of yours?!" Clary's eyes narrowed as she looked between the man and then back to Simon, who just shrugged good-naturedly.
"She's good, thanks," he replied with an easy smile. Part of Clary envied how oblivious Simon seemed to be, but the other part of her wanted to jab him in the ribs and force him to fight back. Preferably with his fists. Possibly with the potato peeler he was holding in his hand at the moment.
She really needed to shake these feelings.
She didn't live like that anymore.
Fuck.
She needed a drink.
It was just after three and Clary was already onto her second bourbon and cola. This back country town was not the sort of place she had imagined spending her early twenties. She loved New York. She loved the fact that it didn't matter if it was two in the afternoon or two in the morning, she was always going to surrounding by a buzz. She loved the atmosphere, and the noise, and the fact that she could loose herself just by turning the corner.
Not like here.
Although, the boy who was bent over the pool table in the corner of the bar could possibly provide a distraction.
She had been watching him for the past twenty minutes or so. He had black hair, which was weird, because he had fair eyelashes and eyebrows like someone who was blonde, but somehow, the look worked on him. He was wearing a light blue tee-shirt that clung to his well formed torso and his biceps, and there was a tattoo curling down one arm. He was clearly the 'man in charge' with the four or five boys he was with, given whenever he spoke, they all paid attention, and there was an air of respect that followed him as he walked.
He looked like kind of a bad boy, a bit of a heart breaker, which Clary liked. She had that in common with her mum, although that wasn't necessarily a good thing, given that's what had ended the two of them in this town to begin with.
"Hey, love," the girl behind the counter smiled over at Clary, and she looked back at her with a raised eyebrow. "You want a refill, or are you good?" Clary looked down at the tumbler in her hand and blinked when she realized that she had indeed finished her second drink. She pursed her lips and then shrugged and nodded. The girl refilled her glass and Clary handed over her Eftpos card for a third time, entering her pin and then putting her card back in her wallet.
She should probably head home after this.
Her mother definitely wouldn't be happy if she was late for dinner and drunk. One she could get away with. Both, she would be risking a dressing down, even though she was a twenty-two year old adult.
Clary felt a spell of heat in her stomach as the dark haired man leaned over the pool table to take a shot. He pulled the pool cue back and lined up his shot, wiggling his ass just a little bit and her tongue ran along her lower lip in approval. There were two other girls who were standing close to the pool table, near the rest of his friends, and when hit his mark, they cheered and jumped up and down like he had just won some world cup final. They went over to him, kissing him on cheeks and cooing out the name 'Seb'. She rolled her eyes in disgust as she looked the two girls up and down.
At least one thing remained the same.
The sluts were the same here as they were in New York.
She sighed and threw back the rest of her drink, pushing the glass back over the counter and getting up from her seat. The bar was a grimy looking hole in the wall, and she ducked around a couple of slime balls who let their gazes drag over her body was she walked past. Her legs felt a little heavy, but she liked that. She was used to that. There was a slight tingle in her fingers as she pushed open the door and walked outside. It was already getting dark, even though it was just before four now, and it was starting to spit. She was still wearing the high waisted black skirt and red top from work, so she wasn't feeling particularly warm, and she reached up to pull her hair from it's ponytail, fluffing it around her face and neck to help.
"Shit," Clary muttered under her breath as she fumbled around in her bag for her keys. She clumsily found them and pulled them out, walking over to her car. Her lips twisted in annoyance as she looked at the black Mazda she was now forced to drive, and her mind flitted back to the 1970 Dodge Challenger that she had been given by her father on her sixteenth birthday. She had loved that car ever since the day she had gotten behind the wheel and felt the power of the eight engines under her fingertips. Jonathon Fairchild-Morgenstern had always been jealous of the car, which had made her love it even more. Her thoughts shifted to her brother as she shoved the key into the lock and turned it over, dropping them on the ground in her partially drunken state.
Jon had always said that she drove better drunk, anyway.
"You're fucking kidding, right?" Came a growl from behind her, and she spun around and saw one hell of a gorgeous man standing there. He was all molten gold—wavy, golden hair that looked slightly damp, skin that was glowing gold from a surprising tan despite the constant, bad weather in this town, and furious golden eyes that were trained directly on her.
"I'm sorry," there was definite sass in her tone, something that she couldn't really help. "Are you talking to me?"
"You're going to drive drunk?" He snapped, and looked down at the keys in her hand and then back up to her face. His voice was grating her the wrong way, and all of sudden, his good looks weren't making him look like an Adonis. It was making him look like a dumb, football jock who was only attractive when their mouth as shut.
"I've had three drinks," she said in her defence.
"As in three beers drinks? Or as in, three hard liquor drinks?" He shot at her.
"As in, none of your fucking business," Clary spat at him, turning back around to look at her car. She pulled her door open and was about to slide inside when she was suddenly being pulled away. Her reflexes kicked in immediately, her elbow snapping backwards and ramming itself into the hard planes of the strangers stomach. He let out a grunt, but he didn't let her go, successfully moving her away from the car and snatching the keys from her hand.
"I'll drive you home," he snapped. Clary looked as though she was going to argue, but then she just sighed and nodded. She walked around to the other side of the car and got inside, staring ahead stonily as he started the engine and reversed out of her park.
So? What do you guys think? I haven't figured out a posting schedule yet, but once I do, I'll let you all know. A lot of it depends of your feedback, so be nice and leave a few words ;)
As long as you're logged in, I'll also send out a preview, if you want x