The day after, early afternoon

[nomorekaraoke]

It isn't every day Lorne has to crawl out from under his thick, cozierthanthou duvet to answer an unlisted caller sending his cell phone into a vibratin', party hoppin' frenzy.

...the saxophone's blowin' on a rock n' roll show - we climbed in the back seat, really had a good ti-i-ime--

"Hot patootie, my tush." Begrudgingly flipping the phone open and letting his arm go limp. It's an approximative thing, really, where the actual receiver thingamabob ends up.

...right. His ear's over here.

"What's yer pleasure, stranger?"

Comments

[nomorekaraoke]

"You'd be one of the cuties waiting tables. Taking drink orders, showing customers to their tables, you know the drill.

"You have any experience with that sort of gig?"

[sunnydalealum]

"Uh. N-not really. I worked in a coffeeshop once, a couple years ago?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"It's a start we can work with. Listen, if you're interested, do your see-vee thing. You need to give it to a woman in Greenwich, owns a small clothing shop there called Sundries - don't ask me why - it's a second hand meets vintage meets everything between kind of shop. Bleecker Street. Talk to Marta."

[sunnydalealum]

"Marta," she repeats. "Sundries. Bleecker Street." Finding a pencil in the clutter of the junk drawer in the kitchenette, and scribbling the words on a pad of paper by the fridge.

"I, um. Don't really have much of a CV," she confesses.

[nomorekaraoke]

"Sweetie, neither did I when I got started. But really, what I want to see is how you perceive yourself, as a person, a woman; how do you handle stress, what kind of pros and cons you think you have... It doesn't all have to be about your professional credentials, you know. We all gotta start someplace."

Tracing his steps back to the liquor cabinet over yonder, he starts fixing himself a drink. "You think you're up for the job, it'll show even if you don't get all the words right. Eloquence can be such a bitch, if you don't mind me saying so."

[sunnydalealum]

How you perceive yourself. Coward, screw-up, liar, deadweight. Betrayer. Dupe. Victim.

It's not like it's a dangerous job, though. It's not like anything massively important would be depending on her. She'd be waiting tables.

(Two years ago, she still believed that she would someday be a lawyer. She hasn't thought about that in a long time.)

"Okay," she says, still a little uncertainly.

"I ... probably won't be able to get any references, either."

[nomorekaraoke]

"You won't need 'em. I'll know what's good and solid, don't you worry."

He can't help it, the covert admonition slips in there like second nature. He doesn't like being taken for a fool, and while he feels embellishments is the very soul of the resume, there's a limit to everything.

References, he doesn't need. Semi-truthfulness, he does.

[sunnydalealum]

"Okay," she repeats, quickly, and swallows the automatic apology; covert or not, even the mildest of admonitions has that effect on her.

"So I, I'll ... I'll see."

[nomorekaraoke]

"Atta girl. You never take chances, you miss out on all kinds of things." He sips. "It's just the way life is.

"Anyhoo, you're a darling for giving me a call."

[sunnydalealum]

"Thanks." And she hears herself smiling when she says it.

The compliments, the little endearments -- they don't make her nervous, even though she vaguely thinks they should. The offer of a job does, but she realizes (to some surprise) that what she's nervous about is screwing it up. Not ... him wanting something from her, something beyond what he's saying.

"So, um. Talk to you soon, I guess?"

[nomorekaraoke]

"Sooner rather than later, I hope." He smiles, heartened and all brightened up by the sunshine on the other end.

"Anytime, sweetie. You take care, okay?"

[sunnydalealum]

"You too." Meaning it.

She thumbs the OFF button and sits down on the edge of her futon for a while, phone still held loosely in one hand. Thinking.

Looking at the notepad with its few words scrawled on the top page. Marta. Sundries. Bleecker Street.