Here's my new story! I'm really excited about this one. I just have a feeling about it. I'll still be writing Summer, but I'll be writing this one as well. This is a Joe fanfic, if you're wondering. It's also going to partially be a songfic, inspired by and using songs by A Fine Frenzy, Duffy and others. There won't be any songs that I wrote myself, so anytime there is a song, I don't claim to have written it. All songs are property of their prospective writers.
There will be a few things different from Summer. First, I'll be writing in first person for the majority of the story. Any scenes or chapters that don't include my main character will be told in third person. Or maybe the perspective of one of the boys. I'm not sure yet. Second, I'm going to name the chapters. Not a huge deal, but I think it will be cool. Third, I'm going to include a lot of music. I'll make sure to list songs and give credit where credit is due.
This is just the intro. I want you to get acquainted. I hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!
The walls of Carpe Diem coffee shop are very familiar to me. The painted grey brick walls adorned with local artwork, photography and pictures of the regulars, have been my home away from home for the past eight months or so. Though it was located in Los Angeles, it wasn't a trendy, over priced coffee shop. It was Located near California State University and its clientele didn't include the likes of Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan. It included me, among others.
I'm Danielle Thompson, but mostly I'm called Dani. I'll be nineteen come winter. December to be exact- the saddest time of the year. If you're wondering what I look like, it's nothing special. I'm about 5'4". Average. I have long naturally black hair. Average. I'm not going to tell you what I weigh, but I'll tell you it's average. You could say I'm tan maybe. But I haven't frequented a tanning bed since leaving home. It was just another luxury sacrificed. My dark brown eyes need the help of contacts to see. I have a pair of glasses I wear rarely. They're a few years old and I'm pretty sure I need a new prescription. I don't wear designer. My wardrobe is a mere shadow of what it was in Maine. I traveled light. I don't have a trust fund. I won't get an inheritance. I don't go to school. I live in a slum of an apartment building that I can barely afford. I live alone. Except for my dog, Romeo. He came with me.
Enough about me. Let's talk more about my little coffee shop. Carpe Diem was a refuge for people like me. People wandering often wandered into Carpe Diem. It was dark, but it had charm. You were drawn toward it. It was welcoming. It was the first place I came to when I got to Los Angeles. I hadn't heard of it, I wasn't meeting anyone. I just happened upon it by chance. I walked into the small coffee shop with everything I owned. A suitcase, two duffle bags, my purse and Romeo. The man and woman behind the counter (later I would learn they were the husband and wife owners of the shop) were intrigued and asked me where I had come from. I gave them a brief, abridged version of my history. They were a mixture of sympathetic and encouraging. They offered me a job on the spot, which I gladly took. They also pointed me in the direction of a cheap motel where I could stay until I found a more permanent residence.
I was working the next day, learning how to make all those complicated and impossibly delicious coffee drinks and smoothies. While I was working, Jane and Clinton, my bosses and who would later become like my surrogate parents, circled ads in a paper for apartments I might be able to afford. After checking out about ten places, and living for a week in the roach motel, I settled on a place. It wasn't glamorous like a Los Angeles apartment should be, but it was cheap. I did the best I could with the one bedroom, one bathroom and a kitchen/living room. I used up a big portion of my savings on the deposit and first month's rent. I used another big chunk on furnishings and necessities like pots and pans, towels, and toiletries. I worked full time at Carpe Diem, which was my only source of income. I picked up as many hours as I could. I had nothing better to do than work. It was less lonely than being in my tiny apartment alone and sometimes they let me bring in Romeo. He was a four-pound Pomeranian and everyone loved him.
After working at Carpe Diem for a few weeks I began to get to know the regulars. There's Andy, a college drop out who smoked a lot of weed and was in the process of writing a novel. He couldn't make the grades in college, but I've read his book and it was not bad in any sense. He's 23. He comes to Carpe Diem everyday, orders a large coffee black and works on his novel. If we're slow we'll visit for a while, but I hate to distract him from his work.
Then there's Carolyn. She's my best friend out here. She's 24 and has a seven-year-old daughter. They live on the same floor of the crummy apartment building I live in. She's been on her own a long time and knows what I'm going through. She comes in pretty much everyday. Most days she comes in during the hour she has after she gets off work and before she picks up Claire from school. Sometimes she brings Claire with her. Claire always gets a medium chocolate milk with whipped cream and caramel syrup, while her mom usually gets a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso. I'm sure you can imagine why.
Melinda is a middle-aged waitress. She usually comes in late and gets a cup of tea and a double chocolate muffin.
Jared is 20. He's an aspiring musician/songwriter/poet/playwright/actor/personal trainer. He always says he's keeping his options open. He orders either decaf coffee or a smoothie. He says the caffeine gives him the shakes and hinders his music making. He's the one who convinced me to take to the stage. If you could call Carpe Diem's small raised platform a stage. Late one night he was the only customer we had and he was playing his guitar, working on a song. I asked him if I could see it for a minute and I began to play. It was the first time I played since I'd left home. I was a little rusty but it came back quickly. He convinced me to sing for him and ever since then we've been playing and singing together a few nights a week at Carpe Diem. We weren't the Beatles, but we drew a few extra customers. I had some original songs and Jared had some as well. We had songs that we collaborated on but our biggest hits were covers. People would ask if we knew such and such a song and we'd work on it and make them promise to come back next week. Next thing you know and we're playing top 40 songs. It brought in customers and that's all that mattered.
There were other regulars, but they're less important. Jane, Clinton, Andy, Carolyn, Claire, Melinda and Jared were my family. I wouldn't have made it without them. Now, you're probably wondering what makes my story worth telling. To tell you the truth, I don't know if it is worth telling. But telling it is something I need to do for myself.
My name is Dani Thompson. I'm broke. I live in Los Angeles with my dog. I miss my mom. I work at a coffee shop. My life had no purpose, no direction. And it all started at a seven-year-old's makeshift birthday party.