Alright, sorry about the long wait. I had finals and graduation and prep for grad school and three spiders attacked me while I was in bed so needless to say I'm trying to overcome some severe emotional scarring (at the hands of the spiders). They honestly attacked my face, and one of them literally walked away with half of my cheek skin. Not really...but seriously. So I'm all moved into my new place and currently without internet. Sitting at the local Caribou Coffee in sweatpants and my hair up in a crazy bun, just looking like your local Midwestern meth addict. I've slowly been working away at this story and have a number of chapters finished and ready to go now. I just don't really know how I feel about it yet, or if I like it enough to keep going. But I'll keep pushing it out and as long as a few people are entertained by it. It's definitely going to be a longer one. So, if anyone has any opinions just let me know.
This is what I own: zero things.
The sporadic and slightly impatient jiggling of a key pulled my gaze from my history book and towards the front door. With a soft click and a small victorious cry Jessica swung the door open and stepped passed the threshold.
"And where have you been all day Miss 'I'm going to skip all my classes'?" A grin was firmly planted on my face.
"Pre-Law internship and job fair." She stated matter-o-factly. "A good roommate would know!" She added playfully with a wink as she made her way into the kitchen. "GOD, I'm starving! It's like the people that set these things up think students don't need to eat or something. I mean hello, I bet they get set lunch breaks everyday." Her mouth was now full of what I could only assume to be cheerios.
"Probably…" I trailed off flipping a page in my textbook. I sensed what could only be a Jessica rant coming on. "Hey, wait. Did you get anything? A job or….an internship or anything?" That's it, move the conversation away from a missed opportunity to eat. New direction. Avoided rant.
"Welllllllll," she sing-songed from behind me, "now that you mention it." She hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to me with an unceremonious 'hmmph.' "I did get offered a paid internship… and I accepted it! I start on Friday. Just a brief orientation so I can really get into it on Monday."
"Oh Jessica that's great! I always knew you were the smart one out of the three of us." She gave me a cheeky grin and popped a few more cheerios into her mouth. "We need to celebrate! Where is Madison? We should go out for drinks and grab something to eat."
"Yeah I'm starved, let's go to Dooley's Pub! And I think she's bartending at the club until seven."
"Perfect, send her a text and tell her to meet us there when she gets off." I know what you're thinking. Madison plus club. It could only be a nightclub. But if you thought that you would indeed be mistaken. It was actually a country club, the kind planted right on a golf course whose members talked incessantly about their yachts and Mr. 'So-and-so's' new mistress. I don't really know, I've never been there.
I guess growing up Madison's family had a lot of money and the country club was her usual scene. It wasn't until halfway through high school that her father got busted for embezzlement—or was it tax fraud? It's hard for me to remember, Madison doesn't like to talk about it much—and Madison's family lost a majority of their money to the trial and fines. She was forced out of her private school and into King High, where we obviously made each other's tumultuous "acquaintance."
I'm sure a part of her really misses that life, and that's probably why she chose to bartend at the club. To be as close to the "good old days" as possible.
We threw on some decently presentable outfits and less than an hour later found ourselves planted firmly on a couple of barstools, beers planted securely between our fingers.
"And that's when I said, 'You'd have to pay me more than a million dollars to jump into bed with your old man ass. Now tip me forty percent!'"
"Madison! You're such a liar. As if you'd still have a job after talking to one of the dusty millionaires like that." Jessica waved dismissively with her hand, wobbling slightly on her stool. I chuckled softly as I watched a very tipsy Madison unsuccessfully grab at her drink.
"You know what Jess…." She said, finally giving up on the glass in front of her and pointing an unsteady finger at the red-head next to me, eyes squinted. "You're right. I didn't say that exactly. But it was just as bad-ass, bitch!"
I was feeling way too sober to watch my roommates scramble through a drunk argument that had literally begun with 'so an eighty-five year old millionaire on oxygen rolls into the bar...' So I interjected. "But, other than the ancient man-candy, your shift was pretty good?"
"Pfffffft, hell no!" she exclaimed, grabbing her neighbor's beer glass and slamming it down on the bar top in front of her. Its contents sloshed over the sides. "I had the worst group alive come in. I fucking hate them. Sitting there all rich, with their arms around each other. They don't even like each other. She doesn't deserve him. And he always comes up to me, acting so polite with his 'how are yous' and 'keep the changes,' practically rubbing it in my face with his stupid-ass manners. Yeah, I used to live like that, and now I don't! So what?! Do they have to come in and rub it in my face by sitting at one of those stupid tables and eating their stupid caviar with their stupid overpriced wine? Fuck!"
"Oh, umm…Madison, I'm sorry." I casted a nervous glance over at a now silent Jessica. "I didn't know you disliked it so much there. If those people are so rude to you why don't you just find another job? I'm sure they could use another bartender here." I gestured half-heartedly at the bar around us.
"I don't want a new job. What I want is a shot! Where's a bartender? Bartendress! Hey! Bartender lady, down here!" Madison was waving her hand frantically as she called down the bar, trying to get the attention of one of the two women serving drinks at the other end.
"Madison, stop." I pleaded as I lightly grabbed her now desperate hand. "Let's get you home, we have tequila there. We can take as many shots as you want once we get home, okay?"
"As many as I want?" Her voice took on the quality of a hopeful child.
"Of course, as many as you want."
"Caviar tastes like ass."
A small laugh escaped my lips as I stood up from my barstool. "I wouldn't know, so I'll take your word for it."
"Ass. Just like ass. It's like that old Fear Factor show only for rich people. You know where they eat animal balls to win money. Only these people don't need money so they eat fish balls for priiiiiiiiide."
"Aren't they eggs?" I asked as I looked down on the ground for her purse.
"Eggs. Ass. Same difference."
"Okayyyyy. Jess, could you give me a hand here-"
"I believe I was summoned?" The new voice surprised me, causing my head to collide with the bottom of the bar on its way up to find the owner of the huskily posed question.
"Uh, umm, sorry." I offered as I rubbed the back of my head. No lump yet. "That would've been my roommate, who is…" I looked over at my two roommates who were now both on the floor, giggling and pointing at the shoes of another patron, "obviously in no need of your services." I ended with an apologetic smile as I finally allowed my eyes to rest on hers.
They were a light bluish-grey, in striking contrast with her jet black hair that fell in heavy but not unattractive bangs across her face. Her smile was easy, laid-back, but not smug. Her skin looked to be naturally dark, similar to Madison's, and a pair of moderately full lips outlined two rows of straight, white teeth.
"So I see." She chuckled, observing the spectacle that was now taking place on the floor below us. "Let me give you a hand." She stepped from behind the bar and helped Jessica up by the waist. I did the same with Madison, letting her lean most of her body back against mine for support.
"Madison," I spoke gently into her ear, "where did you park your car?"
"There." She said, pointing through the window at the other side of the street.
"Shoot." I bit my lip, trying to think. I knew from experience that after two in the morning that area was no parking, and violators were almost always towed.
"That isn't a good spot to leave your car overnight. Tow zone." The bartender mirrored my thoughts with a slight crease to her brow.
"Hey," Jessica finally caught on to the fact that another woman's arms were wrapped around her waist. She looked up at the dark haired bartender, her bleary eyes sweeping over her face. "You're reallllllllly pretty." She announced, a sloppy grin gracing her pale features.
"Uh, thanks?" The bartender answered hesitantly, her amused eyes met mine briefly before returning to Jessica's. "But, I have to be honest. It's the makeup's doing. I'm not allowed to leave the house without it." I smiled at her light-hearted treatment of the slurred compliment. "Listen," her attention turned back to me as she shifted the red-head in her arms, "I'm basically done with my shift. I can drive your friend's car somewhere safe. And," another shift of the girl in her arms, "by safe I mean away from cops or tow-trucks or whatever snatches cars in the middle of the night."
"Umm," I pulled my lip between my teeth again, seriously considering her offer.
"You can trust me I swear. No speeding tickets or anything. Scouts honor."
"Scouts honor?" I asked, amused by her outdated choice of words.
"Well, Girl Scouts honor or something. I was a Girl Scout for one whole month." She grinned over Jessica's head at me.
"A whole month, huh?" I asked with interested skepticism.
"Yeah, they politely suggested to my grandmother that I leave the group. Apparently I wasn't too fond of wearing the skirt. I always took it off during meetings…while selling Girl Scout cookies… I think the final straw was when I tore it off in the middle of a parade."
A choked laugh left my lips. The girl surprised me, she was so relaxed and easy-going and it was starting to rub off on me. I was in a semi-stressful situation, but I felt remarkably stress-free. I don't know if it was because of her words or because of her presence, but I felt comfortable.
"Sure." I finally answered. "I can drive these two drunks home with me if you just want to follow in Madison's car?"
"Yeah, that's just fine. Miranda!" She raised her voice over the voices of the patrons and grabbed the attention of the other bartender. "I'm going to head out now and help these three get home in the process. Can you toss me my purse?" The other girl nodded and slid a black purse along the bar top. Unwinding one arm from around Jessica's waste, she shimmied the purse over her shoulder and looked over at me. "Shall we?" She punctuated her question with a playful bow as she gestured towards the door.
"Please." I replied with a grin.
All four of us sauntered awkwardly out the front door and over to my vehicle. We buckled Jessica into the front seat and laid Madison out in the back. I straightened up and closed the backdoor with an accomplished huff.
"Alright, these are the keys." I informed the bartender as I handed them over, before digging through my purse. "And these are mine, and you can just follow me down this street here, we'll take a left just past Ray's bar over there and-"
"You know, in many cultures its customary to exchange names before completely handing your car over to a stranger." I heard her grin through her words.
"Yes, well," I said tossing my hair across my shoulders as I looked over at her, "you technically won't be driving my car. What is it?"
"What's what?"
"Your name."
"Oh. Carmen." She held her hand out to me, grin growing. "And yours?"
"Spencer Carlin."
"Ah, Torres."
"What..?"
"You gave me your last name so I thought it would only be fair to give you mine, keep us on equal footing. You're Spencer Carlin. I'm Carmen Torres."
"Well Carmen Torres," I said sliding into the driver's seating and punctuating my next words with a quick rev of the engine, "try to keep up." I smiled as I watched her jog to Madison's car and get in.
The ride back to our apartment felt shorter than usual and Carmen and I had already gotten Madison and Jessica into bed. We were currently standing in the kitchen; her, politely refusing a ride home and me, chiding her for calling a taxi.
"Honestly," she said, both hands poised in the air, "I made enough off of Madison alone to pay for the cab. Plus, I would categorize tonight's events as short of inconvenient in every way. Seriously, I'm beyond the capacity of complaining, I enjoyed myself too much."
"Let me at least help pay for part of the cab."
"No. Didn't you say you have to work in the morning? Where do you work?"
"Nice subject change. At Restless & Relentless, that coffee shop in the corporate sector downtown."
"Ah, I've driven by there a few times but never been in. Is it any good?"
"I like it. The blueberry fritters are to die for I swear. So good." My verbal appreciation of the delicious pastries was cut short by the sharp ring of Carmen's cell phone.
"That's gonna be the taxi. I should probably head down there. Listen, don't be a stranger, drop by the bar more often."
"Okay I will," I said walking her to the door, "thanks for all your help Carmen Torres." A small smile played its way across my lips.
"It was my pleasure" she returned with a smile of her own before turning and walking down the hall.