Anyone For You

"I can't talk for long. What's up?" Rebecca asked, curling the phone cord around her finger.

"I'm procrastinating a term paper. What's up with you?"

She smiled to hear her dear friend's voice. It was absolutely unfair that the two of them had been parted for so long. "Well, right now I'm having my break during an exhausting shift and in between pouring beers and mixing G&T's, I'll be pondering my life decisions," Rebecca answered facetiously.

"Like how you cut yourself off from your family when your dad wouldn't pay for you to go to business school?"

"Oh shut up, Sass," Rebecca grumbled. That was the circumstance she was contemplating more often than not. Her useless piece of shit father didn't think a woman should have a business degree or be in charge of anything but arranging flowers or perhaps hiring caterers. So when Rebecca had come to him to announce she wanted to get a business degree, he said no. And if she wanted to pursue it, he wasn't going to pay for it. And her mum, of course, just said yes to everything he said. Rebecca, however, was a woman who knew her mind. And she knew what she wanted. And no one was going to stop her.

Cut to three years later when Sassy was nearly finished with her graduate studies in child psychology and Rebecca was living on her own in Richmond, of all places, and bartending to pay her rent. Business school seemed to be a pipe dream nowadays. But the fire within Rebecca Welton still burned. Perhaps more an ember than a flame now, but it was there. She'd find her way somehow.

"OI!"

Rebecca heard the pub manager shout for her, and she sighed heavily. "I've gotta go, Sassy," she said. "I'll call you soon, alright?"

"I'll hold you to that, Stinky."

She still didn't like that nickname, but she knew it was a term of endearment from the fabulous Flo Collins, so it made her smile. "Bye," she said with a small chuckle and hung up the phone.

Rebecca gave herself a little shake and pushed her shoulders back and pulled her blouse down so her cleavage showed a bit more. The patrons ordered more from her when she showed off her tits. And the football wasn't on tonight, so the place would probably be pretty quiet once the after-work crowd went home for supper, leaving only the regulars sitting quietly with their pints.

"Fucking finally, Jesus." Old Jim was a right pain in the arse, but he was kind under all that bluster. He was happier cooking in the back than up front with the customers. Rebecca was better for things like that, which is why she'd been hired.

"You know, if you apologize to her, you wouldn't be having this problem," Rebecca reminded him.

"I'll apologize to my wife when I'm good and ready," Jim grumbled.

Rebecca smirked to herself. Jim and Mae were as good a couple as she'd ever seen. Constantly rowing but devoted to each other. Never a better team. Their bickering gave the place a bit of color. And it did not escape Rebecca that the pub belonged to Mae. Jim got to manage and work here because he was her husband, but Mae was the boss. And now that she and Jim were having a fight about something or other, she was torturing him by refusing to come out of the office, leaving him to all the chores he hated if Rebecca weren't there to help.

Jim shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving Rebecca to man the bar. She got herself organized, trying not to think about the fact that she should be CEO of a major corporation and not wiping up spilled beer, but at least she had a job. The door opened, and she looked up to see an American walk in.

She knew at once that he was American. Proper British people didn't enter a room smiling like that. And proper British people didn't have very stupid-looking mustaches like that. But despite that, she could not deny that she noticed his deep brown eyes and the way they shined when he smiled.

"Hi there," he greeted, taking a seat right at the middle of the bar. His accent was instantly grating.

"Hello," she replied simply. "What can I get for you?"

"Pint of beer is fine. Whatever's on tap," he answered.

Rebecca gave a single nod and poured his drink.

"Thank you kindly," the American said. He took a sip and put his glass down. "You know, I never been to England before. I think the jetlag is gonna get me. It's almost dinnertime here, but I feel like it's first thing in the mornin', you know?"

The rapidity of his speech was somewhat jarring. It took her a moment to be able to interpret his words in that accent, whatever it was. So she asked, "Where are you visiting from?"

He smiled in a way that made Rebecca instantly regret her question. He was going to think she wanted to chat. He told her, "Me, I'm from Kansas. That's in America. And you know, I booked a little hotel here in Richmond because I thought that sounded real nice. Homey, even. There's a Richmond in America, too, in Virginia. I've been there a couple times and liked it a lot. Thought it might be nice to be a little close to home here, even though I'm a whole ocean away, you know?"

Rebecca felt a bit taken aback. "I suppose," she answered. It was odd, actually. There were plenty of parts of London that were extremely popular with tourists. Richmond was not one of them. Not in the least. This was a neighborhood pub for the locals and the football fans. This was not a place that got many outsiders coming for visits.

The American had another sip of beer and smiled at her again. "This is a mighty fine place you've got here."

"It's not my place," she explained. "I'm just the bartender."

"Oh, I'm sorry. The way you're standin' there, all tall and confident-like, I just assumed you run the joint."

Rebecca merely shrugged. She felt her cheeks grow a little warm. She had to admit she was mollified by his mistake.

All of a sudden, his eyes went wide. "Oh gosh, I'm sorry, where are my manners?" He wiped his hand on the navy blue jumper he wore and then held his hand out to her. "I'm Ted Lasso."

What a ridiculous name. But Rebecca replied, "Hello, Ted Lasso. I'm Rebecca Welton."

She shook his hand. It was a proper handshake. Firm but not threatening. Some men gave weak handshakes trying not to be too powerful against a weak little woman while other man used a handshake to show their dominance. Ted Lasso did neither. It struck her that he probably gave the exact same handshake to every person he met.

How very interesting.