Hey, so this story is meant to be funny and not serious at all. It's completely different from Tear You Apart and I hope you all like it. Let me know if you think I should continue it or keep it as a one-shot. Thanks for reading!
So I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Candace Belle King also known as Candy, but most women just call me hussy, skank, homewrecker, slut, whore… you get the picture. I'm the girl everyone loves to hate, but I say it's just jealousy. Nice body, beautiful blonde hair, gorgeous face, great cheek bones, the best tits money could buy and a line around the block of hot men waiting at my disposal, what isn't there to be jealous of? Hell if I wasn't me I'd mean mug too. Now I know what you're thinking, "Candy, you're so great. Why are you slumming it in this dump?" Trust me, I ask myself that all the time. See the answer is simple, everyone has dues to pay. Today I might be schlepping beers to drunken idiots in some stupid bar, occasionally moonlighting on amateur stripper night, but someday I'll hit it big. My agent says I have the body and face of a supermodel and trust me, he knows his stuff. You know the billboard for Nothing But Yes Bailbonds, off highway 100? He manages the girl in the sexy police uniform. Like I said, totally legit. So now all I have to do is play my cards right and I'll have everything I ever wanted.
Saturday night is the busiest night at the Four Roses. That's why I always come dressed to impress. If you show the losers around here a little cleavage and a lot of leg, you go home with enough tips to keep the piggy bank happy. On this particular Saturday I wore my cutest black mini skirt and this black tank top that kind of looks like a corset but it isn't, but whatever it makes my tits look great. You see I'm saving up to buy myself a cute little sports car. I'm thinking a corvette, but I could also go for a mustang. That would get his attention. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to Saturday.
So this Saturday night was not unlike any other. There were the usual drunks, the shaggy college kids, and of course the washed up bar hags that like to hang around looking for the "man of their dreams", please. But then he walked in. He would be Billy Darley, and he is currently on my must have list (along with the sports car and this cute pair Manolo Blahnik's, but I digress). Billy is to Columbia what Brad Pitt is to Hollywood; everyone wants him, and since Columbia is currently my Hollywood I of course want him as my leading man. He's tall, dark, tattooed, and scary. What can I say, I love a bad boy.
So Billy walks in like he owns the place, as usual. He scans the bar, checking to see who's around, and then it happens. I'm leaning back on a bar stool, looking my best, trying to earn my car when who should walk past me and nod. That's right, Billy Darley. Now you're probably saying, "What, a nod? Big fucking deal." Well it is. I have been working at this dump for five months and one week, and I have been trying to get Billy's attention for five months and six days, and it hasn't been easy. Normally when I want a guy I would just turn on the charm, waltz up to his table, do some flirting, bat my eyelashes and wait for him to come to me, but Billy is a hard egg to crack. Every girl wants a piece of him and there's always another bitch in the way.
I know what you're thinking, and yes I could easily push my way to the front of the line, past all those nasty girls and their cheap hair extensions, cheap nails, and cheap boob jobs, but you see I work with this girl, Tiffany. Tiffany is what's standing between me and my future man. See Tiffany is the little sister of Baggy, one of Billy's boys, and every time Billy and his crew are here Tiffany takes their table. Bitch move right? Well I've played nice, biding my time. After all what good would it do to piss off Tiffany, which would piss off Baggy, which in return would piss of Billy? That's just way too many angry people.
Well this Saturday some higher power looked down upon me and rewarded me for my good efforts. Tiffany called in sick.
So Billy struts in, gives me a once over, nods his approval, takes his usual seat at the back booth and is soon joined by his gang of mongrels. Don't get me wrong, I like Billy but the buffoons he hangs out with, well that's a story for another time.
Now at this point most girls would giddily walk on over, like a dog begging for attention. Amateurs. Men like Billy Darley want a chase, and I of course know a lot about being chased.
I lean over the bar, turning my back to their table and pretend like I'm totally interested in what this loser, Chris has to say. He's been trying to get my attention all night. Oh you're a plumber? I'm totally interested in you…NOT! But whatever, he'll do for now. This little trick accomplishes two tasks: One, it forces them to ask for me and two, it gives Billy some time to admire what he's been missing out on.
"Hey!" I hear one of them yell.
I smile knowing my plan is working, but don't turn around just yet. They need to work harder than that to get my attention.
"Beer bitch!" This is followed by hardy laugh from the rest of the table.
I guess that'll do.
I turn around slowly, making a good show out of it. Then I saunter over there, hips swinging, hair flowing, and an "I could care less" expression. I've got this.
"Need something boys?" I throw in a little wink in to peak some interest, but not enough to come off as desperate, because let's face it I'm not. "Yeah, we need some fucking beers." The buffoons are always uber clever. "Anything else?" My voice sounds like I swallowed a gallon of honey, the words coming out slow and sweet. "A bottle of Jack and some shot glasses," Billy finally mumbles, not even casting a glance at me while he lights his stupid cigarette. He's playing it cool, but I won't be deterred. "Aye Aye Captain." I make my reply low, husky. It's my bedroom voice. I'm breaking out the big guns. You see using your bedroom voice makes guys think of one thing, if they're not already thinking about it. It makes them think about having you slammed in between their sweaty bod and crusty bed sheets. Don't believe me? Try it sometime, you might learn something. So anyway, I head back to the bar and I make sure to take my sweet ass time. Billy needs to know he is not my priority. See guys are kind of like cats. You smother them with attention and they avoid you like the plague, but if you act like you want nothing to do with them you become their favorite person. Trust me, my mom owned a lot of cats and I've had plenty of boyfriends. But whatever, back to the bar. What's his face was pouring drinks for a group of frat bros. "Hey…" What the hell is his name? I really should remember it by now. I mean he owns the damn place. "…Sammy…?" He rolls his eyes. Whatever, at least I figured it out. "What do you need Candace?" Ugh, I hate when he calls me Candace. I hate when anybody calls me Candace. Candace is the name of a girl who bakes pies and vacuums in pearls. It's so…suburban minivan. Candy on the other hand is the girl drinking cosmos at exclusive clubs and driving a lambo. Ooooh, maybe I could get a lambo…
"I need a round of beer for the back booth and a bottle of Jack."
"How many shots you need?"
I glance back at their table: the junkie, the chubby blonde, and two other guys that only seem to lurk plus Billy.
"Like, five?"
Sammy gives me the same look all my high school teachers used to give me, like when they thought I didn't know what I was talking about. I hate when people do that. Like just because I'm hot and have blonde hair I'm not totally smart too?
"Like five or five?" He asks sternly.
"Five, jeez."
He can be such a stick in the mud.
"Hey Sam," I lean in close to him.
"Sammy, not Sam."
"Whatever, is Billy checking me out?"
I'm leaned over the bar, and I can tell that half the assholes in the place are about to fall out of their chairs from checking me out. Whatever car I do choose will be mine in no time.
"What?" He looks up, like an idiot. Jeez did he never do this shit in high school?
"Don't fucking look! Just glance over there."
"Has he been hitting on you?"
Oh fuck me, the concerned father voice makes an unwanted appearance.
"Well not yet." I twirl a loose strand of hair around my finger. I can already picture it, walking around on his arm, hopefully in those Manolos.
"Candace!" Sammy snapped his fingers in front of my face, jerking me out of my daydream.
"Rude much! And I told you I hate the name Candace, it's Candy."
"People will call you a lot worse if you get involved with him, so just do your job and steer clear of that whole group. Besides he's got a girl."
Ugh, I forgot about her. So after Tiffany there's one other girl standing in my way. I call her the sorostitute. She's this good girl college chick, you know the type. She's moderately cute, I guess, but honestly I don't know what he sees in her. I mean they can't have anything in common and from what I can tell she's a real snoozer. She rarely comes to the bar with him, and when she does she flips out every time another girl even looks at him. Then again with girls like me running around who can blame her right? Poor girl. I think her name's Kristen, or Katey…maybe it's Kendra. I don't know, that's not the point though. She might as well be named Plain Jane.
"Like that's stopped me before," I mumble too low for Sammy to hear before grabbing my tray and sauntering back to their table.
"Alright boys, five beers, five shot glasses, and one bottle of good ole Jack. Anything else?" I lean over as I put the beers down in front of the boys, allowing Billy a good look at the girls. Sure, it's a cheap move, but it's effective.
He eyes me over slowly, and I've just about got him.
"I think we're all good here sweetheart. We'll call you if we need you."
That's right, sweetheart. Billy Darley called me sweet heart. Put that in your juice box and suck it. I'm starting to like this job.