by Portia Moore
“Hey, what kind of fairy godfather would I be if I didn’t help?”
I bite my lip, grab my phone, take a snap of his Uber profile, and text it to Parker.
“Okay. Just a ride. Let’s bippity bop.”
Alex’s car matches his Uber profile: black Jeep, 2018. I’m nervous, and it should be because I’m getting in a stranger’s car—albeit a hot stranger’s car—but he has the placard on his vehicle and everything. He pops the lock and goes to open the passenger door for me, but I clear my throat and he laughs.
“Right, you’re a passenger, my apologies.” He quickly opens the back door for me to get in.
His car is immaculate, not even a gum wrapper on the floor.
“Any specific radio choice?” he asks, looking at me through the rearview mirror.
“Nope, I’m not picky.” I tell him. I fold my hands in my lap wishing my phone had enough juice to scroll through it or something. I still don’t entirely trust myself not to accidently end up on his dick.
“Hey, how are you living in Manhattan without a job?”
“My best friend lives in Manhattan and I’m squatting with her until…until…”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“Graphic design.”
“Cool, you have an artsy vibe,” he says and I arch a brow at him.
“An artsy vibe?” I laugh.
“Your dress is sexy as hell, but I don’t think a lot of girls would do those shoes with it.” My face flushes. “But I like it,” he adds with an amazing grin.
“And what’s your vibe Alex?” I ask innocently but our eyes connect in the mirror and his gaze is flirtatious. I have a feeling mine is too, not purposely, it’s just what happens when I’m around a guy who I think is hot. I’ve got to stop this!
“I mean do you drive around town saving damsels in distress or do you have a second job?” I say trying to break the energy between us. He laughs.
“I bartend mostly. I’m hoping to be able to open my own in a few years if I’m lucky.”
A hot bartender. I’ve done enough of those in college, even though I see Alex is definitely the hottest one I’ve not done, hands down.
“We’re actually hiring, Not for graphic design but for wait staff. The girls make good money, and quickly, if you want to make some easy cash.”
“The girls wear clothes right?” I asks cautiously. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been approached about being a model or an actress for it to turn out to be a nude. I have no idea why I give off that vibe. He laughs.
“Yes, totally clothed, it’s actually for a catering service—one of the largest in the city. Upscale mostly so you’d probably have to deal with a bunch of old rich guys hitting on you but you’re probably used to that anyway.”
“You have no idea,” I mutter under a laugh even though I feel guilty of thinking of Jackson as old.
“There, right at the end of the block,” I tell him as we pull down Parker’s street.
“Nice block,” he says semi-impressed. He pulls in front of Parker’s building. There’s a mini stretch of silence between us. He looks back at me, those striking eyes on mine, and they cause me butterflies which I try to suffocate by clenching my stomach muscles. Those damn butterflies always have me making the dumbest decisions when it comes to men.
“Madison,” he says, his eyes sweeping over me with a boyish grin that would cause me to make anything but innocent decisions.
“Alex,” I retort with a hard smile and go to pull the handle on my door.
“Hey,” he says and I stop mid-step. He gets out of the car and jogs over to my door and opens it for me. I can’t help but grin. I step out of the car and take him in once more. I may not be able to touch but I can look. He lets out a regretful sigh with an inquisitive smile that lingers on me.
“Thank you for everything,” I tell him, walking backwards from him
“Here,” he says after fishing a card out of his pocket.
“It’s an event staffing company, in case you want to make a quick buck,” he says while offering me the card. I take a few seconds to mull it over. Taking a card for a job can’t hurt especially since I’m super in need of one. I take it from him, ignoring the electricity that jolts through me as our fingers brush one another’s.
“You’re not that bad a fairy godfather after all,” I quip. He takes his lips captive in between his stark white teeth and every muscle in my body clenches. I roll my eyes at the heat wave that covers my body. What the hell is wrong with me? How—after everything this species has put me through—could I still crave one like a drug?
“If this were an actual ride I’d give you five stars,” I tell him honestly. Our eyes lock for the third time tonight. It’s like mine gravitate to his and it makes me uncomfortable.
“I think you’d be awesome. You could make some good money and it’d be great to see you again,” he says, stepping backwards toward his car.
“I’ll think about it. Thank you for the info,” I reply, forcing my foot to step backwards towards the direction of Parker’s apartment. There’s something about Alex, other than him being insanely hot, that is making him hard to walk away from. It’s lust, like it always is with me. Lust or pity. But there’s nothing about Alex to pity and I’m sure once he pulls away from this block he’ll land on a girl who’s ready and waiting with a lot less baggage than me.
“Well, I hope to see you around Madison,” he says with a lopsided grin; it’s the only imperfect thing about him I’ve seen and it’s adorable.
“You probably won’t but it was good to meet you,” I tell him.
“Well you thought that the first time,” he says, his arms folded across his broad chest, a secretive smile planted on his face. I arch a confused brow at him.
“We’ve met?” I ask and he nods.
“You’re the girl from Miami who stole my heart and walked away with it.”
I think for a minute and the memory hits me like a slap in the face. It is him, the hot bartender! Wow, that seems like a lifetime ago.
“Oh, I’m sorry! Yes, I remember,” I say slightly embarrassed. I wonder how long he’s remembered.
“It’s okay. I think I’ll see you again,” he says, wearing the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen.
I give him a slight shrug and fight the smile spreading across my face.
“Hey, you never know, fairy godparents have all types of tricks up their sleeves, right?” he says with a wink. It makes me giggle.
“Goodbye Alex,” I tell him before heading inside.
Ten
“What happened to you?” Parker exclaims with a whine, flicking on my room lights. Her words are slightly slurred and I’m glad she’s had some liquid lubrication before having to face her.
“I just couldn’t finish Parks. I was having a good time and then you know the young gold digging slut thing came up in the conversation and it ruined the whole night,” I tell her in the cutest innocent voice I can muster. She lets out a disappointed sigh but gives me an understanding nod afterwards before landing on the bed next to me.
“I get it; I just wish you would have come back. It was an awesome night and Nathan liked you,” she admits. I let out a sigh.
“He’s a nice guy but he would be like Ryan 2.0 and I doubt you’d want to end up in the same situation I have Melissa in,” I reply and she relents with a nod.
“You’re right I guess. How much was the ride home? Wouldn’t an Uber on a Saturday night cost you a fortune?”
I fight the smile trying to spread across my face but I fail miserably and Parks eyes me suspiciously.
“What?” she asks knowingly.
“I met a guy,” I say with a simple shrug.
“You didn’t,” she says, her tone scolding but her eyes growing wide with excitement.
“I did, and he offered to give me a ride home even though he technically wasn’t on the clock. And a ride is all it was.” She frowns at me.
“You met a strange guy and let h
im give you a ride home? The one you texted me a picture of?”
“At least I didn’t ride him,” I say and stick my tongue out at her, which causes her to giggle.
“Do you remember when I was in Miami and I had met a really hot bartender and you said he was gay?” She pinches her eyes closed trying to recall but she doesn’t.
“I thought you were off men,” she says teasingly.
“I am, the last thing I need is a guy, even just for fun...”
“I’m very proud of you, I guess.”
“He did give me a card for a job though, it’s at a catering company.” I grab it from my wallet and hand it to her. She looks it over.
“Oh yeah, they’re a big deal, I think our company has used them before. I thought you wanted to freelance? Would you actually consider moving to New York, or do they have locations in Chicago? It would be amazing if you moved here.” She’s talking so fast, her excitement growing with each word, that I have to grab her wrist to stop her.
“Slow down. It’s not for a graphic design position. It’s for a server…” I trail off as she stares at me blankly.
“Uhm, why would you want to be a server? You don’t even have any experience.”
“I don’t necessarily want to, but he says it’s good money and I can make some extra cash while I’m here and I’ll just get Melissa to say that I’ve done it for her company. It’s serving, how hard can it be?”
“I think it’s going to be a lot harder than you think it is. This isn’t serving at Friday’s, you’re going to be serving New York’s elite, but sure the money should be okay.”
Parker’s monetary gauge of “okay” is a lot different from mine so I ignore her opinion when it comes to real life everyday people things.
“Well does that mean I’m going to get to keep you here for more than a few days?” she asks with a cheek smile.
“If it’s okay with you. I don’t want to wear out my welcome but it’d be nice to have some time away from home…well, where I’m crashing since I’m homeless. If I can make a few thousand to pad my account and go back ready for a security deposit, rent, and furniture, I’d feel better than going back unhappy and broke.”
“Stay as long as you want Mads. Anything I can do to help, you know I’m here. And the offer of a loan still stands, interest free. Just in case it turns out you’re the world’s worst waitress.” She gives me a wink and gets up from the couch.
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” I tell her, throwing a Cheeto at her.
“Well, Bradley’s waiting on me,” she says with a suggestive smile.
“Go get the D, woman,” I excuse her. Her pale skin flushes a light hint of pink as she holds on to the doorway.
“I know you’re not here under the most optimal circumstances, but I’m really glad are.”
I can’t fight the smile that comes to my face.
“Thanks Parks. There’s worse places I could be.” I settle into bed and close my eyes and wish with all I have to not dream of Jackson. For his face to not be one of the first that I want to see when I get up. To let him go and move on.
“So let me get this straight. You want me to lie, put my company’s reputation on the line in an industry that pays my bills and keeps a roof over both of our heads, so you can get a job in a field that you shouldn’t even be in and probably will quit after the first week?” She couldn’t be more condescending if she tried.
“Mel, your business is in Chicago and it’s not even wait staff, it’s catering,” I plead with her. She rolls her eyes. Her irritation and disbelief reverberates through the phone screen.
“Why are you doing this? I thought New York would be a good idea so that you can go get over yourself, stop moping, have some fun, and get back here focused. Not go there and start acting out an episode of I Love Lucy.”
“Are you going to be my reference or not? I don’t need this—I need fast money so that I can eventually get out of your house, dear sister. Also, it sounds like fun.”
“You’re in the wrong industry if you think it’s going to be all fun and games. Serving is one of the most difficult jobs you can do, and if they’re doing the type of events that I cater for, you’re not going to be able to wink and giggle your way through it. You need a particular set of skills and an attitude that you’ve never had in your entire life. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Well aren’t you little Ms. Sunshine today?”
“Stay through the weekend, go out, have fun, and get back here Monday and start finding a job in the field you actually went to school for. Don’t you have student loans to pay?”
“God Melissa can you just do this one thing for me? You act like I’m applying to be a stripper or something. There are worse things I could be doing than trying to get a job as a waitress. Will this kill you?” I screech.
“Fine. Text me the dates you want me to say that you worked for me. But Madison, if I do this you better not walk off the job, slap your boss, or do something incredibly unprofessional. This is a small industry and you don’t know if this will affect me or not so don’t screw it up. Take it seriously.”
“I will take it as seriously as I take my life,” I promise her. She scowls at me.
“What are you going to wear? You’re going to take those braids out I hope,” she says, completely unenthused. I finger my plaits; I like them and planned on just wrapping them in a bun.
“Of course I will.”
“Good, if it’s upscale you need to put some effort into this.”
I give her a thumbs up.
“Also, one other condition.”
I should have just hung up.
“We need to go visit Mom.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“I mean it Mads,” she says and I sigh and relent.
“You tell me the date and I’ll be there,” I promise her.
“Thanks sis, got to go!” I hang up before she can add anything to her lecture. You’d think she was the older sister sometimes.
Why the hell is New York so confusing?! This is what I get for taking the train. Well I’m trying to be more responsible with money and Google Maps said it was only a five-minute walk from the station I came in. Three kind Samaritans later, each with different instructions, finally lead me to the front of the building and I have just a few minutes to get in before I’m officially late for this interview. I hurry in and crap there’s a line at the check-in desk where I’m going to have to show my ID. I finally make it through the line and hit the button in the elevator at least six times to make it to the 14th floor. I’m doing all of this in freakin five-inch heels since that’s what Melissa said I should wear to this interview, and I didn’t have a professional-looking bag big enough to store sneakers in. I run up to the door and pull it open only to realize it’s a push door, and nearly fall into it once I do.
The waiting area isn’t anything like I was expecting. I thought a wait staff office would have boring paint on the walls, boring carpet, cheap furniture, and a bored temp sitting at the welcome desk. But this place is exposed brick with modern paintings on the wall, gleaming floors, and sitting in the waiting area are over a dozen girls that look more like they’re here for a model call rather than a job for a server. I silently thank Mel for telling me to wear heels and the extra time I put into my makeup.
I head to the main desk where a guy is sitting and looking at me curiously with an arched brow. I guess he saw my classy entrance. I flash him a bright smile that doesn’t move him.
“Hi, I’m Madison, I’m here for an interview,” I tell him trying to inconspicuously catch my breath.
“Last name,” he asks haughtily, his eyes going to an iPad.
“James,” I tell him trying to keep up my smile. He pulls out a clipboard with a paper application on it and hands it to me.
“Do you have a headshot?” he asks, and my smile drops.
A headshot?
For a server interview?
“Uh. No, I don’t. I di
dn’t know I needed one,” I say meekly.
Another blank stare.
“I can text you a selfie,” I say as charmingly as I can.
He’s not charmed.
“Give me a picture of your ID. If you’re hired, you’ll need to bring one next time,” he says unenthused.
“Sure,” I say, my smile tight.
“Go ahead and fill that out, and someone will be with you soon.”
“Thanks.” He gives me a forced smile. I roll my eyes after I turn around and take a seat next to two girls. I start to fill out the application and the one pen I have runs out of ink. Seriously? I’d rather eat my own tongue than go and ask that guy for one.
“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra pen?” I ask the girls next to me. The one closest to me keeps scrolling through her phone as if she didn’t hear me. “Excuse me,” I say quietly to her again. She glares at me like I have a horn growing out of my head before snapping her attention back to her phone. The girl on the other side of her hands me a pen.
“Thank you. Some people are so fucking rude aren’t they?” She chuckles.
“This is a job interview—not a sorority. You should have brought your own pen,” the girl who ignored me sneers.
“Oh, so you aren’t deaf?” I ask intentionally. She scoffs and looks back down at her phone.
“Kristen Peters?” A tall woman with a sleek bob dressed in all black has entered the room. Kristen, aka Rude Cunt, stands, her scowl instantly transforming to friendly before our eyes. Her long dark curls sway as she saunters out of the room.
“What a bitch,” I mutter.
“You must be new to this,” the girl who gave me the pen says. She’s beautiful with natural red hair and green eyes and looks like Arielle from the little mermaid. I get up and move into Kristen’s chair so our chatter doesn’t bug the other girls.
“Sort of,” I answer, trying to squash my desperation. I wasn’t nervous before I got here but now I’m a little terrified. I thought this would be easy…show up and pretty much get hired. Alex didn’t tell me about head shots and dressing up and catty model-looking girls treating this like a reality show competition with a million-dollar prize. At least Arielle seems nice. I should probably ask her name instead of referring to her as a Disney creature.
