From the Office to the Bar
I felt my heart beating rapidly as I tried to look both respectable and innocent at the same time.
"Ms. Beauchamp," came a question interrupting my thoughts, "do you know why you're here today?"
I guess I couldn't pull it off. Dang! What could my boss possibly want with me? My mind ruffled through possible scenarios only to remain baffled. Yet, wait. Is it because…
"Ms. Beauchamp, did you hear me? I asked you a question and I fully expect an answer."
"Yes. I mean no, sir. I mean I don't know why I'm here. Sir." He gave me a questioning look, eyebrow lifting up to portray an expression of inquiry. Keep it cool, keep it cool, I mentally chanted as I tried to school my face into a neutral expression.
"Is there something you're not telling me Ms. Beauchamp?" Crap, I thought, he knows! My eyes move to the floor, the lightness of the carpet bright in contrast against the black suave of my flats. I move my head in a slight shake of denial.
"No, Sir," my voice comes in a low, humble response, my eyes still downcast but shifted slightly up to look at the mahogany desk positioned in front of me. Mr. Flint remained silent for a long moment, studying my face as I tried to keep it blank, stoic.
Finally, finally, he looked away, lifting his feet to rest on the desk while he twiddled a pencil in his hand. "Well, there is no reason to draw this session out any longer than it needs to be. Ms. Beauchamp, I think we both know the real reason why you're here." He halts his speech with a long pause, allowing for his words to slowly, gutwrenchingly sink in. He knows!
It was a complete accident. Early in the morning, one day in the month's past, I held a medium sized cup of a hazelnut latte from Peet's coffee as I stumbled into my boss's office to bring in some paperwork. Luckily for me, the janitor had forgotten to lock the door so I took it as a chance to place my work in his office. I had been laboring all night preparing business records for the restaurant, and I was hasty to have it out of my hands. However, juggling with opening the door, half asleep, with paperwork and coffee in each hand proved to be a little too much for me: stumbling in, I tripped over my feet landing with a loud thud and an exhale of breath. Thereafter it was like a slow motion scene: my paperwork scattered across the floor as my coffee cup hit the ground, and bounced once… twice… top popping off to mimic a loud, wet kiss. My eyes had widened in horror as I watched the brown sugary liquid spread across the carpet blanketing the floor like a gentle cloud. I watched in terror as the latte soaked into the carpet like a sunken caress, or a deepened kiss. And then, like a splash of cold water, reality snapped in, coupled a fresh punch of fear, and I gathered up the cup and my paperwork before rushing out. Needless to say, I was the cause of the stain that wouldn't come out of the floor before the big shot boss came in and took her seat within his office. And not to mention, the offhanded comment about the office looking like a pig-pen.
"Well," Mr. Flint's voice snapped me out of my thoughts, "I suppose I should inform you then." Fear gripped my heart as I mentally chanted please don't fire me, please don't fire me, I need this job. Fiona can't pay rent by herself!
"I'm promoting you."
"What?!" My body lurched forward in surprise and then froze in shock. I was rigid in disbelief.
"I'm promoting you, Ms. Beauchamp. Over the past few months you have proved yourself to be a valuable asset to this restaurant as a waitress and an assistant manager in training. So I made the executive decision to promote you," He leaned back further in his chair, his curly dark hair crushed between his head and the seat. "You know, Ms. Beauchamp," he began conservationally, "it is always nice to see a young person, such as myself, doing well. Did you know I'm only twenty-seven?"
"You're not...you're promoting me?" My voice came in small whisper. I had to catch myself from asking him if he was going to fire me.
Mr. Flint responded in amusement hazel green eyes shining with a smile, "Why Ms. Beauchamp, I just told you the answer to that question twice," he gave a small chuckle at the look on my face, "Let me tell you something you didn't know. You will receive a raise of five dollars added to your hourly pay as well as a few benefits that comes along with being an assistant manager."
Twenty minutes later when I walked out of his office I stopped for a moment, checked the time and realized it was my lunch break. I headed to back, where my co-workers and I kept all our stuff, and grabbed my purse before leaving with a shake of my head and a sly smile as I headed off to Peet's to grab a hazelnut latte.
"I'd like a Shirley Temple, please."
"Viv, you're so boring, goodness, it's the weekend," I glanced over at my friend, Fiona, who had rolled her eyes and leaned over the counter. "Get her a shot of scotch, instead," she suggested with a perfect twist of her lush red lips. The bartender gave a sly smile at her knowing look and I quickly acted to rectify the situation.
"No! No, ummm, how about a… margarita instead. Yes, a margarita" My eyes moved over to glance at Fiona who flashed me a bright victory smile.
"Now that's more like it girl! A little alcohol is definitely what you need to get a good kick start to the weekend." She paused to take a sip of her own shot of scotch, "Who knows," she added as an off hand comment, "maybe you'll even get laid."
"Fiona!" My voice came sternly, "Shut up, people might hear you!" I was flabbergasted. The last thing I wanted was to seem desperate in a karaoke bar.
"Good. Really, Viv, when's the last time you had some action? And I don't mean a nice, little make out session. I mean some actual good fu-"
I cut her off, "OKAY. This conversation is done." I gave her a knowing look. Her voice had been getting noticeably louder and I definitely didn't want to direct some unnecessary attention our way.
"Viv, c'mon," She began again. I gave her another look and she signed, took another sip and leaned in towards me, starting again, in a much lower voice. "Viv, sweetheart I'm just looking out for you," Her warm sienna eyes shone with emotion as I took in her curly, platinum blonde hair, and saw the sincerity on her face. "Look sweetheart," she grabbed both of my hands, "you work so hard. And… I know you get lonely sometimes," My head jerked away in denial and I began to tug my hands out of hers. "Vivian, I'm serious!"
"Lower your voice," I told her as my margarita arrived.
The bartender slide Fiona another shot of scotch. She glanced at him confused, eyebrows crinkling slightly. "But I didn't order another shot."
Giving her an open smile, the bartender responded, "This one's on the house." After surveying him with my eyes, I'll admit he was kinda of cute: he had a boyish face, mossy green eyes, and curly, dirty blond hair.
She shot him a seductive smile, immediately in flirt mode, "Well, in that case I'll happily take it," and with that she held eye contact with him, bringing the glass to her lips. He watched as she tilted her head back, allowing for the liquid to rush forward, and her lipstick to smear the crystal clear glass. "Delicious." Then slowly, intimately, without breaking eye contact with him, she lightly licked her lips, setting the empty shot glass down. The bartender blushed. He was probably wishing his lips were hers at the moment. Poor guy; Fiona liked to flirt but he certainly wasn't her type; she would never end up with him or much less even go for a guy like him. As the flustered bartender was called away by another customer Fiona's amused eyes found mine. And I knew she planning on resurfacing our previous conversation.
My head turned and I focused on my drink as an excuse not to look at her, taking a slow sip. Fruity flavoring and the fermented taste of alcohol filled my mouth, slowly beginning to warm up my insides as I set my drink down.
"Vivian."
My head moved in her direction. "Look, girl, you're a sexy hot, single young lady who just got a promotion. And I know you're lonely, don't pretend. I also know that you're busy. I just think that you deserve to let your hair down and... to have a little bit of fun for the evening." Her moved her body in a suggestive pose, blonde hair framing her face perfectly, "It wouldn't hurt to have a little fun every once in awhile." She gave my shoulder a light push and I couldn't help but to break into a smile.
"See? Look we're in a bar, having a little fun, and a little fun never hurt nobody. Besides you got all dressed up. You're eye candy and the guys here will appreciate a little bit of extra flavoring," she added bringing her sultry voice back, and I let out a little giggle.
"Fiona, you did not just say that," My attempt to be serious failed as another little giggle escaped my lips at the look on her face.
"What?!" Fiona responded, flabbergasted. "How often do you think a hot black chick like you walks into this bar on this side of town?"
"Oh my goodness, Fiona," I responded. I picked up my margarita again meaning to drink it as she grabbed my arm simultaneously pulling my attention from my drink.
"They're gonna think you're exotic." I saw the smile in her eyes that was reinforced by the sly look on her face.. She raised her eyebrows at me and I couldn't help but smile.
"Stop it," I said playfully, looking back at my drink but still smiling as she let my arm go and shook her bouncing head of curls with a big grin gracing her lips. I took another intoxicating sip of the margarita, letting it last a little longer this time, feeling a little more warmth spread. I spied back at her, signing, wishing I was as beautiful as she was. Her platinum blonde hair was done in the classic Marilyn Monroe do, big curls lightly resting against her skin. Her skin, itself, was a creamy white hue and her black mascara-brushed lashes perfectly accented her face. Fiona had painted her mouth a beautiful lush, shiny red drawing attention to her full lips, and she also wore a low cut red dress, clinging in all the right places, showing off her assets. The result: irresistible. Guys were automatically drawn to her like pollinators to a rose, but she was selectively. She was like a lioness: strong, fierce, beautiful, and very very very selective. She knew what she wanted and she certainly didn't settle for less. I admired that about her. I admired her loyalty, too. And I most certainly valued her friendship.
She gave me a another sly smile, "What? You're hot, girl. C'mon on! I mean look at that dress. It certainly doesn't get any better that," she said before gulping down some more scotch sent her way. I looked down at myself seeing a shimmering red dress that went just below my knees. There was a sweetheart cut in the front, leaving my shoulders bared while expanding into long sleeves running down my arms. I wore lipstick as well, showing off a beautiful plum color that popped my medium-toned chocolate skin. "And your glasses are so cute!" She whined.
I wore dark blue marbled, big framed glasses that DID do my face some serious cute justice. "So what, I look a little hotter than normal," I said giving in a little; her face lit up at my admission to her being right, "but," I said not finished, "you're still some hot stuff. Definitely way hotter than me. By far."
Fionna rolled her eyes, "That's an over exaggeration. Besides look how beautiful your curls are."
"Fiona, just look at how guys respond to you! How they look at you, Effie!" I whisper screamed. Both of our eyes moved to the bartender who we both caught staring at her. His eyes quickly shifted elsewhere. "Vivian, sweetie," she started in a mother-like voice, "it's all about how you present yourself. If you flirt a little the boys will go an extra mile to keep your attention. You don't flirt so you don't get that extra special attention." On cue, another shot of scotch was placed in front of her. She reached over and took my margarita sliding the shot of scotch over to rest in front of me. I looked at her confused and she explained herself saying, "Your margarita will be my last alcoholic beverage for the night. Hey, one of us has to drive and you're having fun tonight so drink up." With that she raised my glass and finished what was left of it. She gave me a look and with a sigh I finished her shot glass in one gulp. "Now that's the spirit!" came her approval.
The bartender walked over to us and set another glass in front of Fiona, most likely intending to get her drunk. In a smooth move she slid it over to me and requested water. The bartender came back, visibly having lost a pep in his step and she rewarded him with a knowing smile. She leaned over to me saying, "Too bad I don't really have sex with strangers." I stifled a laugh; I knew her too well.