6 days until the job

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So I'm lying down on the couch, staring at the sexy, dusty fan on the ceiling as I replay the things I did in the day.

In the morning, I lost the rock, paper, scissors and had to go on the daily coffee run which we usually bully Alby into doing. She took a stand today, well, she just locked herself in the bathroom and told us she was not going to get coffee because she had a crush on the barista and embarrassed herself while talking to the girl yesterday. The barista had this intimidating black eye makeup and lilac coloured hair, and looked a little surprised when I ordered today, because I think she was expecting Alby to come with the nine-drink order.

Then, still in the morning, while I was getting coffee, I bumped into someone and spilled Rey's scalding hot black coffee all over myself. I have a burn. And the worst part, the hungover blue-eyed security guard friend of ours witnessed us like that and began laughing really hard. I'm gonna go to his regular stupid strip club and 'accidentally' pour a can of soup or something on him, and then we'll see who's laughing. He'll have body glitter and soup to take off himself in the shower.

I came home and Rey threatened to cut my head off and put it on a spike if I didn't go again and didn't get her coffee. And she was the same person who brought me icepacks when she noticed that I had a fucking burn of my chest.

Then I sat and watched Ariadne make security guard outfits for Rey and Dhara. Dhara looked so uncomfortable when Ariadne was measuring her neck and waist, it was sadistically amazing to watch.

Then I was sent on a dreaded Walmart run because at 7pm the only people in the house were me and Ariadne as the others had gone for the coveted tunnel construction. Ariadne needed rolls of cloth and dye and it took me an hour to get the correct colour for her. There were so many freaking options it blew my mind.

And then the others came back and Minnie cooked me mac n cheese. Yay!

And now here I am, on the couch, with the a very great urge to have a glass of scotch. And no one wants to come along.

Well, Rey did. Then she fell asleep. And I think we know the rules regarding Rey and sleep by now.

So I get up, brush off the Dorito crumbs from my extremely fucking tight sweater that Ariadne made me wear because, in her words, 'No one in a bar wants to hook up with someone looking like they have seventeen cats.' I don't even want to hook up with anyone.

I was wearing a very comfortable yellow knit sweater and even more comfy faux fur pajama pants. And now I'm in a tight, red, low cut obscenity and Levi's. Yay.

I hop into an Uber and it takes me to the nearest bar I could find. I order a very expensive glass of some very fucking old Scotch and sit at the bar, continuing my leftover episode of existential dread from yesterday, while having given the bartender the instructions to continuously fill the glass as it gets empty. And I ignored anyone who tried to hit on me. Except for one girl because she was gorgeous. But then, she had to leave because her husband was calling her. What a fucking waste.

I resumed my thoughts about the universe in peace.

What are we? Just insignificant beings in this universe full of gigantic stars. And those gigantic stars are so many, that they must be having their own feelings of insignificance in the universe. But what do we do? The entropy of universe keeps on increasing, just like our time in this world keeps on decreasing-

"Madam you might want to check your outfit," a voice interrupts my intense thoughts of thermodynamics.

I immediately look down at my breast almost about to fall out and fix the outfit which was on the edge of malfunctioning.

"Thank you," I say to the very, very tall bartender. Ah it must be so easy for him to reach the top shelves. How nice.

I wonder if he can do those blowing fire out of your mouth tricks?

Ooh can he set the bar on fire like the movies? And then some dude with enormous pecks or a girl (I'm not biased) can stand up on the bar and dance. I would volunteer but my ass is not that great.

"I did not-" the bartender says but gets interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

I turn my head sideways, and vision blurs slightly as the vertigo of five...maybe six glasses of scotch takes it's toll on me.

I see brown curly hair. And a brown coat. And another tall man.

"Oh! Hello favourite guard! Are you following me? I am famous!", I say cheerfully to Lucy. Lucifer? I mean Lucas. Or Luke. Or Lucinda. I don't know anymore.

He runs a hand through his chocolate curls, and I have the urge to wrap one of them around my finger like I used to do with Funyuns, and then try to eat it, "I would ask you the same question. You seem to make your way to all my regular locations, the auction house, the coffee shop and now my usual bar," he turns to the bartender, "I hope you are well, Larry?"

The bartender nods his head at me, "I got a tedious customer today."

"Hey! You are getting a shit ton of dollarinos from me, you snickerdoodle," I say. Wait, I forgot what cuss word I just used on him.

I hope it's a good one.

Then I turn to Security Man, "And you would have to look like Henry Cavill or Danny De Vito if I ever had to stalk you."

Danny De Vito is so hot.

He chuckles a little as he takes a seat next to me, "You seem a bit wasted. I had not expected that kind of behaviour from you."

"And I expected you to be in your residential strip club, so I guess we're even," I try to put sass in my voice but end up giggling as I imagined silver glitter on the tip of his slopey nose.

"Ah another snarky drunk. I was really hoping you would be one of the funny-drunks," his voice doesn't sound amused as it usually does. By usually, I mean the three times I previously interacted with him. His voice sounds bitter.

"Dude, you good? You seem a little off," I say, and then curse myself for saying that out loud. My mouth filter slowly disappears as the number of drinks in my system increases.

"What makes you think I'm not good?" He skirts around the question, which is the definition of not being 'good'.

I survey his body. Brown trench coat thing, not removed, either because he feels way too cold, or if he feels insecure. He has an overly fit body, why would he be insecure? Rigid posture, tense neck muscles, clear indications of stress. Eyes looking up at the ceiling, a mindless trick to try and hide possible tears? Family issues? Romantic problems? That call which he had heard on the microphone, he had not wanted to be set up 'yet'.

"Ex-girlfriend issues?" I say out loud like a fucking idiot. Should not have had that much scotch.

His blue eyes, a shade darker than I've seen them, widen, "What... are you talking about?"

"Um I'm saying, you're having something your ex-girlfriend issues," I say, without realising what I'm saying.

"How did you know?" He smirks the fakest smirk I have witnessed in my twenty one years of existence, "I guess you have been following me. Is this what it is like, to be famous?"

"Scotch gives you the sixth sense. The more expensive, the more effective," I blurt out a lie, trying to look as innocent as humanly possible.

He shakes his head, his locks dancing on the top of his head like a bunch of snakes, and turns to the bartender, "I'll have what she's having, Lawrence."

"Are you sure? It's sixty bucks a glass," Larry says, though in his eyes I can see the excitement of getting another expensive order.

Lucy smirks a real smirk this time, "Make it a double then."

"You tryna impress me, Lucy?" I say my thoughts out yet again, "Damn it!"

I think said the last part out loud as well.

The corners of his lips turn upward slightly, "Maybe I want the sixth sense as well. And my ex-girlfriend hates scotch, which so happens to be my favourite."

"We should mail an entire bottle to her," I suggest then perk up, "Oh! And let's put poison in it so she dies a slow death, but wait... How will she die if she hates it? How about we just sneak into her house and stab her in the throat instead?"

He laughs and I get a good view of his dimples, "So you're actually a truthful and graphically-violent drunk, good to know."

"Puh-lease you're enjoying it," I clap my hand to my mouth.

"Did I say that out loud as well?" I question.

He just shakes his head and grins at his hundred and twenty dollar drink.

I raise my glass, "To getting out of a relationship with a weirdo who doesn't like scotch and probably drinks weird cherry vodka martinis!"

He raises his own glass while laughing yet again, "Damn, this scotch definitely gives you a sixth sense. She did drink a lot of martinis, though they were lime instead."

I free-balled that. Didn't think it would actually be true.

Suddenly Flo Rida's Club Can't Handle Me starts playing on the speakers.

I smile widely, and down the drink in front of me in one go, "I feel like dancing on the counter."

Lucinda's eye travel down my frame, hey, my eyes are up here buddy, "I don't think your wardrobe is ideal for such an activity."

"You're right, don't want the whole bar to see my non-existent boobs."

So I can't remember if I said that out loud or not, but I don't care as I bob my head up and down, like a Whack-A-Mole.

Lucy is still grinning at me as he orders himself some Budweiser.

***

"Don't you ever, you know, just get bored sitting outside a building 24/7," I say, looking up at the stars. I think...we are sitting outside the bar, on the sidewalk, because...I think...I don't even know anymore.

Lucas, or whatever his name is, laughs, "I am not a security guard, though."

"Are you a janitor? Janitors are hot," I comment. Wait, what did I just say?

"Ah that makes me want to switch my job to that of a janitor now," He takes a swig from his bottle of beer.

"Are you...an usher? Oh, oh wait," I push my finger onto his lips as he was about to reply, "Are you one of those people who paint themselves silver and pose as statues? Have you ever been auctioned?"

The breath exhaled from his nostrils warm up my icy fingers, and I really wish it could stay there and thaw for a while but I had to let the poor statue-imitater guy speak.

"How much would you pay for me?"

I survey him, "He is not a bad specimen. If he were fully clothed, I would pay a solid fifty dollars, and if he were made into one of those...white marble statues of dudes with a leaf covering their junk...I would give a hundred. Depends on the booty though."

Wait...did I say that out loud?

He bursts out laughing, so I think I did.

I'm just going to throw myself in front of a bus now.

"It is very vital information that naked, painted version of me has such a high value. Maybe I should take up that job opportunity and dump the ownership of the security company."

"Wait, you own the company? Why were you working as a guard outside then?"

"I was just surveying the surroundings for, ahem, 'sketchy behaviour' as the Americans like to call it, we had a property auction there that same day," he narrows those pretty eyes at me.

I fake a gasp, "How dare you call Pokémon trainers sketchy? I am so reporting you to Officer Jenny for defamation."

"Oh! I have been invited to attend an auction at the house," my stupid ass speaks up again.

"Oh yeah? Which one?"

"Angelo Peruzzi," I slur before resting my head on Lucy's shoulder.

He scoffs and his shoulders move, making my head move with them, "I am sorry you have to attend an auction for that prude. He thought our security company was incompetent and hired a random American company for security instead. Someone aught to put him in his place."

Oh you are going to be mighty thankful to me soon, buddy.

Suddenly, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, I put it next to my ear, "Hello? Hello?" It continues to vibrate, "HELLO?"

"You need to accept the call, dear," my lovely companion suggests.

Right, I knew that.

"Where you at?" Comes Yuri's voice from the other end, "It's late, I'll come get you."

"I am at a very old fashioned and classy looking bar, while I am looking like a hooker."

Lucinda chuckles softly.

"You wasted already? I'll just make Blaise track you. See ya!"

What a sweetheart.

"You don't look like a hooker," he says after I hang up.

"Thank you, Statue man," I reply, and then take a swig of his beer. He has another bottle he will be okay.

"Oh and thank you for putting up with lil drunk ole me," I point to myself, and then take another swig.

"I don't know, drunk Pokémon trainers are fun to spend time with," he says with a smile, "Plus, it was a good distraction after I bumped into my ex girlfriend on the way here."

"Ah... Lemme guess," I survey him again. Plain style of clothing, uneven brown stubble, not a lot of thought put into self care..., "Three years?"

"Five, actually," he says. Oh wow no wonder he wanted a distraction.

"Turns out, cheating on boyfriends with sandy haired surfer dudes is the new trend."

I am surprised, "Why though? You're hot."

I SAID IT OUT LOUD AGAIN! DAMN IT!

He laughs, his bright eyes crinkling around the corners "Fully clothed version of me? Not the one with the leaf?"

"I've not seen the second version-"

What the fuck was in that scotch? Truth serum?

I have decided I am officially keeping my mouth shut from now on as his eyebrows rise up with amusement.

I put the phone on the ground and then proceed to curl one of his brown curls around my finger. And then I try to eat it, but it's too hard because of our height difference.

I lean upwards, imagining the curl to be a Funyun but then stumble and come face to face with... What's his name again?

Doesn't matter.

His eyes widen and my breath catches in my throat. His curl slips away from my finger as he adjusts himself a little away from me.

Too close, too close.

I clear my throat and set myself back down on the ground.

"S-Sorry," I mutter, staring at my beer really hard.

A hand rests on my shoulder, "It's good, but you should get home soon."

I look up at him and find his intense blue eyes studying my face intently. It's like we're having our own little moment.

I've never had a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. I've only ever had an occasional hookup. So I have no idea how he feels right now, sitting with a stupid-drunk on the sidewalk, just after running into his ex who he's trying really hard to get over.

My eyes unconsciously fall onto his lips, and when they travel back up to his eyes, I find him doing the same.

What is happening right now?

"Not the hottest spot for a hookup," a voice makes the two of us jump.

"You idiot!" Comes Dhara's voice from ahead of us, where she is standing with Yuri on the sidewalk, "They were having a moment!"

"Ah Pokemon trainer number one?" Lucinda asks, pointing at Yuri.

She tips an imaginary hat toward him, "That is me."

Dhara just has a weird expression on her face, "Wha-?"

I get up and pull my coat tighter around myself, "It was good seeing you, Statue-Owner-Scotch-Man. Toodles!"

Yuri turns to Dhara, "Call Minji to check if we're stocked up on Advil."

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