With your cherry lips and golden curls
You could make grown men gasp
When you'd go walking past them
In your hot pants and high heels
They could not believe
That such a body was for real
It seemed like rainbows would appear
Whenever you came near the clouds would disappear
Because you looked just like a girl
Your baby blues would flash
And suddenly a spell was cast
'cherry lips'—garbage
"Mademoiselles! But you are late again!"
"I know, Christophe," gasped an out of breath Susie. "And I'm really sorry." She made a beeline for the kitchens. Christophe followed, waving his small arms excitedly.
"But zees is zee second time zees week!"
Angelica followed at a much slower pace, laughing at Christophe's exaggerated gestures. In the narrow hallway, Susie hurriedly put on the little apron over her black slacks and crisp white shirt. "I know…It wasn't my fault." She gave Angelica a dirty look.
Angelica ignored her and reached for her own apron. The tiny manager turned toward her. "Mees Pickles! You are not wearing your proper uniform! And you are always late! And your 'air! It can not be like zees! It must be pulled up, not down like zat."
"Why? I don't work in the kitchen. I'm a waitress."
"Zat is not ze matter at ze 'and. What I am saying is—"
"Excuse me?"
"What?"
"It is not the matter at the what?"
He stamped his foot impatiently. "At ze 'and! At ze 'and!"
"…Ohhhhh…" Angelica nodded. "The matter at hand. Well, that's all you had to say to begin with."
He stamped his foot impatiently. "Zat is what I—never mind! You are late, and we are very busy. Scoot, scoot, off to work now." He waved his hand as if giving up, and left them standing there.
Angelica burst out laughing. Susie gave her a disapproving look and made her way into the dining area. Angelica quickly caught up to her. "Aww, I am starting to annoy you, aren't I?"
Susie turned toward her, arms crossed. "It's just that it's not fair! You can be late and break the rules and show utter contempt and disrespect for everyone, and you'll never get fired! Because the customers love you, no matter how badly you treat them. I don't get it! It's like people, especially men, like it when you treat them like crap! And I—I…I have to work now."
"Oh, Susie, come on…"
She walked off and Angelica made to follow, but a very disgruntled Christophe was eyeing her and making more gestures with his little arms. She rolled her eyes very pointedly and then headed toward her section. A man sat at table 12, his face hidden behind a large newspaper. Angelica stopped at his side. She pulled out her notepad and said, without very much enthusiasm, "Bonjour, and welcome to Jardinière. J'mappelle Angelica. Can I get you something to drink?"
He lowered the newspaper and a handsome face smiled up at her. "Ah, Angelique." he said, "And how are you tonight, Beautiful?"
She rolled her eyes for about the millionth time that day. "Ugh, you again."
He gave her a genuine laugh, his dark eyes twinkling. "You shouldn't be so rude to the customers!"
"Well, obviously, it doesn't have quite the effect I'm going for. You're still here three times a week."
"As long as you're here, I'll be here."
"Right. You do know that stalking is illegal, right?"
"I'm not stalking you. I just want you to give me a chance."
Although she expected work to be the perfectly horrible ending to an already bad day, Angelica was glad to see him. And she was enjoying their playful bicker even more so than usual. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a little smile. "I don't think so."
He frowned. "Why not? And answer me this time."
She raised her eyebrows. "You want the truth? Even if it offends you?"
He leaned forward on his elbows. "Definitely. Especially if it offends me."
She placed one hand on her hip. "Alright. I'm not going to give you a chance because I know your type. You've got money. That much is obvious. You're well dressed. That Dolce suit cost you three grand, easily. It's from this year's Spring line." He looked down at his suit in surprise.
"Well—I"
"And," she continued, ignoring him, "You can afford to eat here several times a week, and this place isn't exactly cheap. But it's not the fact that you're wealthy that bothers me. Trust me; rich is my type. What bothers me is that you're the kind of man who decides that he wants something and won't stop until he gets it, whether it makes sense or not. Which is why you're chasing me. And you don't even know anything about me. Yet you're still here. So, tell me, why do you want me so badly?"
He grinned. "You're beautiful."
She shook her head in mock exasperation, but couldn't hide her smile.
"And," he continued, "For lack of a better way to put it, you fascinate me."
She laughed. "Right. I'll be back soon with your scotch."
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
"Angelica!"
Angelica pressed a hand to her ear. "Ow!"
Krystal continued squealing into her ear. "Angelica!" He's out there! It's your Mystery Man!"
Angelica finished pouring the scotch. "He's hardly mine. And I'm aware that he's out there, we already spoke."
"You need to find out some more about him tonight. Get out there!" She tugged at the neckline of Angelica's dress. "And look slutty!"
Angelica pulled away. "Stop that! And I don't care to know about him." she lied.
"You're lying."
"Noooo…"
Krystal sighed in exasperation as she arranged hors d'oeuvres on a silver tray. "You know, you really frustrate me! He's rich, sophisticated, gorgeous and absolutely crazy about you!" She stuffed a piece of escargot into a mushroom agitatedly. "I only attract losers! Please, please, please let me live vicariously through you."
"Yeah, you're so right. From now on, I make all my relationship decisions based on what you want."
"You should at least find out his name."
"I already know it. It's Peter."
"What!?" the excitable Krystal shrieked. "When did you find out?"
"Dunno. A few days ago."
"I can't believe you didn't tell me! When I totally had a hand in getting you guys together."
"We are not together! And you didn't have a hand in anything."
"I certainly did. He was supposed to be in my section the first night he came in. But you ended up working my tables."
"Yeah, because you had a fight with your psycho boyfriend and were over an hour late."
"Exactly! You're welcome." She pushed Angelica, sloshing the scotch a bit. "Now, get back out there. And work it, girl!"
000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Angelica set the glass down on the table. "Scotch. Lots of ice."
"Thanks." He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his jacket. "You wanna have a cigarette with me?"
"How do you know I even smoke?"
"You do. I can tell."
Angelica looked around. Everyone was busy. They probably wouldn't notice if she sat down for just a minute. She knew she shouldn't. She had been late, and hadn't really done any work since she'd been there. A tiny part of her, the part of her that she'd been ignoring for the past half a year, felt guilty. But the other part won out. She sat down. His brown eyes positively glowed when she smiled and took the cigarette from his outstretched hand. He held out a silver lighter for her and, as she inhaled, she felt really good for the first time in a long time.