Yesterday Sara, Stevie and I went to get matching tattoos.
I don’t care how tacky it is, we wanted it.
Anyway, they both got matching and I got something different.
This is a little bit from something I’ve been writing.
I’d love a little feedback.
She takes another sip of her red wine and smiles at him over the glass, all eyelashes and perfect teeth. When he meets her smile with one of his own I could be sick. My stomach tightens and coils and for a minute I actually think their exchange will make me hurl. Come on, Eliza, man up. They’re bodies move an inch closer to one another and I can’t take it any longer. I pull my curls over one shoulder, knowing what it will do to him and head over to their table. The clicking of my heels makes them snap apart and look up. I catch her eye and the look she gives me tells me everything I need to know. She knows who I am. What a bitch. I glance at Zach and can’t help but feel a little insulted at the deer in the headlights expression he’s just put on. Looking back to the bitch I say “More red?” I look at her expectantly and have to try exceptionally hard not to laugh at her confused expression. Well, I guess that’s one thing, he really had no idea I was working here. I push down the warmth that pools through my veins at that little discovery and look to Zach “Another Collier?” I’m trying my best to be polite but if they don’t answer soon my anger is going to come rushing out of my skin to burn them.
“Eliza?” Zach’s sticking with confusion then. Typical.
“Drinks, guys. Do you want another?” I may be slipping into patronising territory here but come on, I’m not being left with much of a choice. When somebody in a little black outfit and an apron comes up to you in a bar and asks if you want another drink, it kind of speaks for itself right?
The woman perks up and speaks quickly with a smile I can only assume is false “We’d love another, thanks so much.” She drops her smile and turns to Zach, successfully dismissing me “I didn’t think the movie was a hit, but you have a point about that main character being up and coming, he was brilliant.”
Zach slowly looks away from me to catch what The Bitch is saying. Wow, she’s good; carrying on with the earlier conversation as if I hadn’t interrupted. Smart move, lady. I make sure I walk away slowly. I don’t want to look bothered by the encounter. Zach needs to think I’m indifferent rather than raging with burning anger that is screaming to be let out. I don’t know why I do this to myself. I said I didn’t care. For 20 minutes I watched them and I didn’t care. I wasn’t angry and I wasn’t jealous. Then all of a sudden I’m full up with anger and painting myself green. How can I be fine one minute, then storming over just to separate them the next? Hell, once I got over there all I wanted to do was leave. But I did go over there. I needed to separate them, if only for a minute.
I send Beth out with their drinks and sit on a stool in the back room while I get my shit together. This is a fucking joke. I don’t care. I. Don’t. Care.
“Table 3 just left you a monster tip!” Beth says excitedly while pouring a glass of red wine and a small glass of Collier down the drain. “I stuck it in your jar for you, don’t worry I didn’t take any.”
“Why are you pouring those away? Table 3 left?” They left? They just ordered another drink and then left?
“Yeah they said they changed their minds and had to leave or something, I don’t know, they paid for the drinks and tipped anyways so it’s all good, don’t worry.” Beth gives me an easy smile and dumps the empty glasses into the washer.
“How much was the tip?” I know I’m not going to like her answer before I’ve even finished asking.
“$100 bill baby.” Beth grins, oblivious to the fact that my skin has just exploded with flames of rage. The need to cut a bitch has become so strong she should run for her own safety.
I manage a huff before I’m rushing out the back door and into the bar. I rush out from behind the bar and head straight for the front door. Freezing cold air slaps me across the face but my flaming skin softens the blow.
“Zachary Quentin you better stop fucking walking and get your arse over here!” I shout as loud as I can so he can hear me from his position across the street. His back stiffens and he spins around quickly to look at me.
“Yeah, that’s right buddy,” My voice rings with authority while I point at the spot in front of me “Get. Here.”
He scrunches up his face and quickly smooth’s it out again, then quickly looks over to his lady friend. Her face is not a happy one. She’ll just have to wait her frigging turn to yell at him though because I’m fuelled and ready to go.
Too impatient, I cross the street toward him but my body doesn’t seem to want to stop a safe distance from him before it commences the yelling and before I know it I’m slamming the palm of my hand into his chest. Game time.
“Who the fuck orders a drink then leaves before it gets to the fucking table?” This isn’t the issue. I know this. He knows this. But we’re going to beat around the bush anyway, it’s our style.
“I didn’t leave before it got to me. It was placed in front of me when I politely explained that it was no longer needed.” He’s being arrogant. I swear it’s like he wants me to lose my shit.
“How fucking rude of you. And then to top it off you tip an obscene amount of money? Who the fuck are you, James Conway?”
“Do you even know who James Conway is?” He screams at me “Why do you insist on making references to people or characters you don’t have a damn clue about! It’s maddening.”
“I’ve seen The Godfather! Don’t change the fucking subject!” I scream right back.
“James Conway is from Goodfellas, Eliza! Goodfellas! Jesus Christ”
“Who gives a shit about Goodfellas Zach? $100? Really? Are you shitting me?”
“If you don’t fucking want it, give it back.”
“I’m not going to give it back!”
“Then keep it!” I swear each time we reply we are getting louder.
“Oh I’m keeping it, alright.”
“Marvellous. If that’s all I’ll be going.” He turns to look for the woman he came with and a confused expression takes over his face. My own face mirrors his as we both turn in circles and look up and down the street for the woman. Shit, did she just…leave?
“How fucking rude.” I murmur in surprise.
“How fucking ridiculous.” He murmurs beside me.
We both look at each other then and laugh.
“I can’t believe she just slipped off down the road. This has certainly never happened before.” He says chuckling to himself.
“Of course not, who would leave before a visit to Zachary Quentin’s apartment.” I quip.
“Oh, shut up.” He says playfully. Then adds “But really, who would?” He winks at me and I smile. Without another word we both head back into the bar. He takes up residence at a stool at the end of the bar while I slip behind it to pour him a glass of champagne. I don’t know why he insists on drinking whiskey on dates when he loves champagne. That doesn’t make him a girl. Champagne is fancy, girls would get it.
“Amazing.” He smiles and takes a gulp of the champagne.
“Easy there, I can’t be topping you up for free all night. I’m not losing 2 jobs in a week because you’re a thirsty free loader.”
“Ah that’s all in the past. I won’t make you lose this one.” He unleashes his smile on me again and that pool of warmth from earlier has returned in full force.
“That was yesterday. I lost my job yesterday.” I stress, rolling my eyes.
“Well you’ve managed to get another one pretty damn fast so what are you bitching about?” He raises an eyebrow in challenge and I sigh before walking away to serve some customers, you know, considering that’s my job and I haven’t been doing it for a good 20 minutes.
Have you ever been sexually attracted to a voice
Sexiest accent there is.