24: At Your Service

Desmond

    

      I arrive at the bar as soon as I close up the office late Friday afternoon, and I hear Marie's voice say laconically, "Fine, fine. Ha ha." Bryce chuckles softly, and as I climb the stairs, I see why.

       Damn you, Bryce. This joke again?!

       Erin speaks up, "Marie, you don't have to. I brought some more normal clothes for you if-"

       "Oh no," Marie quickly cuts her off, her arms folding and an irritated expression on her face. "Obviously, Bryce is doing some kind of orientation thing, and I'm not about to run off crying that I've had a joke played on me. I'm fine," she snaps and starts wiping the dust and sand off the tables.

       I admire her for her attitude about the whole thing. Good for you, Marie. He wanted you to get upset, and you didn't.

      "Oh, it's you," she says to me when she, sadly, stops leaning provocatively over the table. I was enjoying the view.

       "Yes," I say and shrug in a nonchalant manner. "Why shouldn't it be?" I watch as she leans over a chair again after she shrugs herself. She starts wiping the table some more. A person can do a lot with chairs like that.

       I go and sit at the bar. It doesn't help to distract me enough. I can still see her reflection on the turned-off TV screen. I wish she'd stop bending over. Instead of watching her, I curiously tune in the discussion between Erin and Bryce.

      "It's just not a nice thing to do!" she says in an admonishing way.

      "Aw, c'mon, Erin. It's only fun and games, and in a little while, she won't be the only one dressed like that. You'll see," Bryce says.

       Erin turns to look at me before I hold up my hands and say, "Don't look at me. I've learned my lesson to never bet against Jesse and Bryce."
        Bryce laughs good-natured-ly. A few tourists arrive, and Marie plasters a smile on her face to start taking their order. Jesse's rattle-trap pulls into the parking lot. My attention is drawn to his attire. He's wearing the corny buccaneer getup tonight. I start to roll my eyes, but I get instantly distracted by the woman that climbs out of the passenger side.

      I quickly face the front again as I think, Ginger. Holy shit, Ginger.
      I forget all about Marie. I've been so mad at Ginger these past days that I did too good a job of getting her out of my head. No wonder I sat here lusting over Agent Parren's daughter. I haven't been entertaining myself with thoughts of Ginger.
       Now everything comes back full force, I notice, as my hand shakes when I bring my glass to my lips. It's a miracle the thing doesn't spill everywhere. I get so mad at myself for allowing this reaction that I want to throw my glass to shatter it against the wall. She looks so... fetching in that outfit. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jesse with his arm around her. Are they dating?
       "...something that means something to you," her voice echoes in my head. The same arguments with myself run around and around in my head about whether or not I should tell her how she means something. And now she's dating Jesse. An annoying pain worms its way down to my stomach. I see her head turn in my direction. Jesse laughs quietly and walks over to Marie to, I'm sure, annoy her.
       Now I see where you were going with this, Bryce. Although, where does Ginger fit into this scheme?

      Ginger slowly walks up to the bar. I haven't seen her or spoken to her since our argument down by the lagoon. My drink is empty, but I only barely notice because my attention gets drawn to her bare arms. Her skin is so pale.
        "Don't you ever tan?" I ask her to distract myself from wanting to slowly run a single finger up the beautifully bare skin of her arm.
       "No, never. What's it to you?" she asks in a sassy voice. I love it. Making her angry is a long-time game of mine. However, it doesn't help that the sassier and more pissed off she becomes, the more I want her. Still, if I can focus on ticking her off, I have an easier time controlling myself.
       "Oh, nothing. I was just wondering. Hey! Maybe one day all your freckles will connect and then you'll have one." I lightly chuckle to myself.
       "Oh, ha ha very funny," she says with no humor at all in her voice before she orders a drink. As she does, she walks over and lightly puts her hand on the counter while she talks about something with Jones. I quietly sit here and stare at her hand. Once she has her drink, she looks around, I guess for Jesse, still standing near me. The smallest extension of my arm and I could pull her towards me.
       Get a hold of yourself! All she'll wind up doing is saying something hurtful to you again.

Marie Parren

       I have been tricked! And after all this effort I put into bleaching this old shirt too. My boss's girlfriend tells me I don't have to wear this thing anymore, but I've never been one to back down from a challenge. He thinks he's going to make me run off crying. What an asshole. I'm not about to give him the satisfaction!
      I serve some customers real quick before I go back to wiping the perpetual sand off everything. My little brother Xavier, or 'X-man' as I called him when he was little, neat freak that he is, would have a fit at how messy this place is if he were here.
        But he's not here, I think as a pang of homesickness takes over me. Here I am, new and lonely and my boss, someone who's supposed to support me and help me does nothing but play a joke on me! I look ridiculous!
         I stand here and decide that these tables need a new paint job when a very loud VW bug pulls into the parking lot.
        Then I see the couple that get out of it are dressed in some crazy costume as well. Oh, great, I think sarcastically even if I am mildly glad that I'm not the only one to look this ridiculous. As the two of them walk up the stairs, the guy says something to his date in her ear before his eyes wander over to me.
        Oh no, I made eye contact, I think as I quickly glance away before I can see the rest of the smile that spreads across his face. I pinch my lips together as I hear his boots walk across the boards to me. He's got to be roasting alive in that coat. I now see the boots out of the corner of my eye as I lean over and work at some stain I found. How this place passed the health inspection, I'll never know.

       He leans down too and would have gotten right in my face if I hadn't have quickly stood up.
      "Captain Jesse Gillespie, at your service, madam," he says with that silly grin I expected to see all over his face as he quickly takes his hat off for a second before placing it back on his sweating locks.
      Oh no. He wants to roleplay.
     "Captain of what exactly? The good ship insanity? You're going to have a heat stroke in that thing. Didn't anyone tell you it's summer?" I say and rest a fist on my cocked hip. 
      He looks to be eating up my jibes at him as he says, "I appreciate your concern for my well-being, but don't worry. I'm perfectly comfortable. In fact, I can find comfort in the most peculiar situations. Care for me to demonstrate?"

        I don't need this. "No, that won't be necessary, and some of us have to work."
       "Ah, you're the new waitress. I wondered who Bryce would get to replace Bernadette," he says, and that blasted twinkle in his eyes refuses to go away. "You know, I introduced myself. It's rude if you don't do the same."
       "It's also rude to walk up and try to get right in someone's face," I throw back at him.
       The tiniest, irritatingly-adorable pout shows up now as he says, "I was just trying to get your attention, and what do you have against telling me your name? I suppose I could always get it from Bryce later, but I think it would be nicer if you told me yourself."
        I roll my eyes and decide to just tell him, hoping it'll make him leave me alone. I doubt it though. "Marie," I finally say.
         "Marie," he repeats, and I don't like my reaction when I watch him roll my name around in his mouth.
         I let out a small huff and drop my arm back to my side, wondering when he'll leave me alone. I don't like the way his eyes keep looking like they're taking stock of my features, working on tallying up a score. I don't give a rat's left testicle if I qualify as a 'ten' or not in his opinion.
         "Now, if you'll excuse me," I say as I walk around the table to go dust off the stereo, deciding to take care of that stain I found later.

       He stands up and pushes away from the table as he asks, "I simply must know. How on earth did Bryce convince you to dress up like that?"
        I want to slap that look right off of his face. Oh crap. No. Is this why Bryce wanted to play this joke on me? Because he knew his friend what's-his-face was going to dress up as well? And he wants us to match?! Surely not. Captain what's-his-name came here with someone.
        He keeps talking, "Because I'm doing it to make up for doing something stupid."
       "You're joking. Really," I say, and the sarcasm oozes out my pores. This stereo will have to be taken apart to get it really clean. I'm almost wasting my time right now. I turn slightly to see Jones the bartender (I don't know if the man has a first name) watching the two of us very closely. He looks at me in such a way as to let me know that if I need him to intervene, he will. Sweet, but not necessary.
      My customers pay for their drinks and leave me a tip. A tiny tip. Whatever. Captain Insanity has a seat and watches me as I clear off the table. I do my absolute best to ignore him.
      "So," he says after I've cleared away their glasses, "what did he tell you to get you into that?"
      "Hm?" I ask, pretending to be distracted.
     "That adorable little outfit you have on," I see his mouth drop in happy shock as he continues, "He told you it was a costume party, didn't he?" He roars with laughter up to the ceiling. More people start to arrive, but they head right to Jones instead of take a table.
       Maybe I should put on the outfit my boss's girlfriend brought for me.

       "He did, right?" he asks as he walks up to stand right behind me. I look longingly over at the customers and wish that Jones and Bryce weren't already taking care of them. Desmond looks like he's pissing off the redhead the guy behind me came with. There is absolutely nothing I can do in order to look busy enough to avoid this guy. I thought this party was supposed to be huge. Well, it is still early, I suppose.
         "Yes," I say distractedly. After a few seconds, I turn a little to ask him, "Didn't you come here with that redhead?"
         "We're friends, that's all," he says as I hear his voice getting closer. "Why do you ask?"

       This guy's acting like this, and he hasn't even had one drink. I'm surprised for a second or two as his arms snake around me.
       "Were you hoping I'd say that we're just friends?" he asks low in my ear, and the way he presses himself up against my derriere infuriates me.
       Alright. I've had enough of this. He is much too forward.

       I have an easy time breaking his hold before I grab his arm as I turn around. I could dislocate his arm, but I don't think he deserves it even with that crap he was trying to pull. Now that he's good and leaned over, I drive my knee right where it counts. All of it takes about two seconds. Then he's 'down for the count.'

       "No," I answer his earlier question. "I was hoping you wouldn't say anything."
       He moans on the ground. I catch a glint of sun hit my boss's girlfriend's hair as she quickly turns back around away from me to hide what I think is a giggle. Bryce looks sternly over at me. If he gets on to me about this, I'm really going to be ticked off. He set me up. I don't appreciate that.

       "Jesse, what did you do?" the redhead asks as she walks over. The man whimpers a response. I'm relieved that at least someone understands why I had to do that.
     "Hi. My name's Ginger. I feel like I need to apologize on behalf of my friend," Ginger says. Captain Idiot whimpers again as I see Bryce start to walk over. "Sometimes he just doesn't think."
        Jesse whispers out, "Just being friendly." Then he looks up at me pitifully, and I have to wonder if he's also trying to look up my skirt while he's down there. I move away.
        "That's a little too friendly," I say down to him.
       "You could've told me," he says with a slightly louder whisper while also holding his arm.

       "Hush, Jesse," Ginger says. "I'll bet she tried to drop you several hints and didn't know she had to be more direct with your thick skull." Then she turns to me to say in a very excited voice, "You've just gotta teach me how to do that! That was so cool! You did it so automatically like that! That was so awesome! Will you teach me? Was that sim fu or something? How did you learn all that?"
        Jesse moans again from the floor. I almost feel bad for him.
        Bryce clears his throat to say down to his friend, "Well, I guess the greeting I have for you can wait. It would seem that Marie here took care of some of it."
         "Mercy, man, please!" Jesse begs.
         I don't know what to make of their conversation, so I try to answer the overexcited redhead's questions, "I learned from my dad. I have a black belt, yes, in sim fu. I... um," I look down at Jesse, "actually feel a little bad about it now."
         "Good," Jesse says, now with a little more volume. I get the feeling he's only still lying there to be pitiful, playing it up on purpose.
         Desmond walks over and starts talking to Ginger, so I go over to mope at the bar. Amazingly, the place is empty again. People must come in, get a drink, and then leave all the time.

     Bryce's girlfriend looks for a moment like she's going to also go talk to Jesse, but then she turns around and leans on the bar instead.
       She asks me quietly, "Are you sure you don't want that outfit? It's not bad, and you can return it if you don't like it."
        "No, I'm fine, really. The fact that Ginger is dressed up too helps," I answer.
        All of a sudden, Ginger's voice carries angrily over to us. "That's not what I meant! Stop trying to twist everything I say!" The three of us at the bar, Jones included, watch while she storms off as Desmond continues to argue with her.