A flirty bartender entraps two men, an average guy and a billionaire. She's sought after by both men, who desire her. Madison Hart is outspoken, determined, and set on marriage. Madison is rushed into a new world of lust, temptation, pain, emotion...
I snort and turn away to hush her as a wife nears the counter. "Five orange juices, please...no sugar." The short lady demands conceitedly.
"Yes, ma'am." I pull a tray from below, add five glasses to it, and pour liquid into each spilling nothing. I lift the heavy tray with ease. My balance is perfect as I hand it over to Lily.
"Where to, ma'am?" The woman leads my friend away. I'm thankful for this. It means the subject is dropped. That guy wants nothing to do with me. It's been about a year of playing a one-sided peep show. He's out of my league and most likely dates models with flawless skin or the athletic type. I'm neither. I peer through the doors and watch the dreamy guy cover the green grass with a firm stride. The ripples of his shirt flare between his muscles, revealing curved lines. "Still spying?"
I jump. "Stop doing that!"
"He-he-he...I will if you talk to him."
"Lil, he's just eye candy."
"You don't know that for sure, Maddy."
"Did I not say he never pays me any attention...plus, I'm not pretty enough for him. Let's be real."
"You're hot, babe. Stop lying to yourself."
"But I'm an acne face."
"Then wear makeup."
"You know I'm not into that."
"Then cut out sugar. How about we make a pact? Let's do a detox. Trust me; it's the number one cause of acne. Once it clears up, you'll have enough confidence to make a move. We can buy the good shit. I used proactive once, omg! My skin was brand new."
"I have dark circles." I point under my eyes where another flaw of mine is.
"There's a cream for that."
"But my-"
"No more buts...unless it belongs to your boo thang. Let's do it!" She holds out her pinky.
"Fine." I sigh and close the swear with mine.
When nighttime hits, the grounds outside shine. There are circular lights along the pathways. The beige tint reminds me of how a night wedding would look. The grand hall, the music, even the four-tier strawberry cake for dessert takes my mind to a fantasy. I've had my wedding planned out for years. I kind of went crazy over it after my prom.
I have the theme picked out, the songs, the place, a tent wedding, and even the ring. Of course, my younger self went overboard, but I've always been a girl who would rather wait. I never had a boyfriend because of how the boys at school turned me off. They were so adolescent and rude. They never knew boundaries when it came to their hands, so I kicked their nuts.
Guys my age have been alienated from my attraction radar. Men in their mid-twenties are my preference. I'm not so sure about going any older than that. I'm 22 and would like someone who is no older than 25. The crowds outside load away golfing equipment into caddies and flood back inside. I unlock a glass cabinet of bottles, selecting liquors and wines. I load the counter with glasses, then fix my hair; the bun is starting to wear out.
A line forms before the bar. The first customer is an old man who eyes me up and down. My skin crawls at how licentious his stare becomes. "Hello, sir. What drink would you like?"
"Something sweet, like you, honey. Surprise me."
I pick out booze, two rums, grenadine and mix it in a cocktail shaker. I shake for ten seconds, then pour the yellow drink into a tall glass, topped by a lemon and cherry on the straw. "Enjoy."
"Thank you, sweetheart." He winks.
The next customer is another older guy. He orders a Brandy Alexander. I use cognac, white creme de cacao, a heavy cream and shake it up. As I pour it, the man with black-gray hair says, "you have beautiful hands."
"Thank you." I pass him his glass. "Enjoy your drink."
The line grows onward from here. Every adult requests a drink, to the point that all the servers come to assist me. They set up their stations the same as mine, then accept customers. I move faster than them. For every one of their customers, I do three. I have a record set here for the fastest served drinks. Lily hands off to her last customer, then looks my way. "He might come up."
"No, it's always the blonde guy who gets the drinks, not him." When everyone in the room is seated, I take my break. The breakroom is down the hall and around the corner, next to the restrooms. I didn't pack lunch, so I'll have to get a vending machine salad, which might be a good thing. My skin needs healthy food. I buy the meal, along with a water, and sit alone at a table. I pass the time by snacking while reading my tinder messages.
JohnnyB: I FaceTimed you. Why didn't you pick up?
Me: Because you didn't ask first. I go to read our texts to refresh my memory. Oh...I get it. He did the video call to show off his skills since I told him: I hope that's not all talk...
JohnnyB: Well, I'm asking now.
Me: That isn't asking 😒
JohnnyB: I don't like your attitude...
Me: oh, go cry a river. Odd that you took that much offense; it seems like you're all talk, after all.
He unmatches with me. I laugh and chew on my salad. "Bye." I sort through my other messages. I have fifteen new ones atop fifty others. I should try out Lily's suggestion and choose a cute guy. I browse my matches tab until I find one who looks nice personality-wise, not just look-wise. One guy is cute enough. He walks dogs as a job and plays hockey.
His bio reads: Looking for good conversation and nice times out, please don't ask me to cash app you for nudes. 🙄 I'm a respectful guy. I'm surprised I'm even on here.
Hmm...maybe I can ask him out. He's 24, just in my range, and has a contagious smile. That's cute. I text his profile to Lily and then lay my phone down. I hope tonight won't be a disaster...and I hope Lily stops being optimistic about me landing that rich man.
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