5. Daisy
5
DAISY
I jiggle my key in the lock and push through the door.
“I want pizza. Do you want pizza?” my roommate, Trisha, yells the minute I get inside. I ignore her and make a beeline for our tiny well-worn sofa, face-planting onto it. What a day. I’m exhausted, yet the entire time home on the subway, my thoughts were consumed with one thing and one thing only. Him.
“Pizza?” she yells again before I hear her steps coming from her bedroom to the living room in our tiny, two-bedroom Brooklyn abode. Situated on top of the local dry cleaners that is run by a lovely lady named Anna, which we secretly think might be a front of the mafia’s, our space is nothing special, but it’s our home and has been for the last two years.
“Hello to you too,” I murmur, feeling tired. I always get tired after doing treatments. I give so much of my own energy to my clients and it makes me lethargic.
“Pepperoni?” she pushes, barreling into the living room.
“You seriously want pizza?” I ask, although at the thought, my mouth waters. I usually try to eat healthy, but despite my mom’s continued harassment, I’m not vegan and am partial to pizza on a Friday night.
“Yes. I need that gooey, oily cheese in my arteries, like, now!” She flops onto the armchair opposite me, and I roll over to look at her. Trisha and I met through a roommate matching service a few years ago and instantly hit it off. She needed someone to help pay the rent on this place, and I needed to try to be a little more independent from my parents. She’s also a casual waitress at Joe’s Pizza restaurant down the street, as well as a myriad of other jobs.
“How can you feel like pizza for dinner when you work with it all day?” I ask her, not for the first time. This is our usual Friday night. I walk in exhausted, and we then order pizza. Not my finest meal of the week, but I’m only human.
“Because I get twenty-five percent off any orders. Staff discount. So unless you suddenly won the lottery, we can’t afford anything else today.”
I groan again. I love my job, and I love working with Mom, but I don’t make a lot.
“Nope. No millions to my name today,” I tell her, and she smiles.
“That reminds me, the heating bill came in today.”
“Is it bad?” I cringe. I barely have a dime to my name, yet another reason I want to get Sunshine more advanced because, at this point, I’m struggling to pay my bills.
“Yeah, I think we’ll have to eat rice and beans for a week or two,” she admits. “But tonight, let's have pizza. I’ll buy. My treat.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Really? Are we celebrating?” I ask as she texts in our order directly to Joe, who we know will throw in an extra garlic bread because he’s secretly in love with her. Or not so secretly, yet she doesn’t appear interested.
“I met the man I’m going to marry today,” she states, and I balk. My mind immediately flows back to Connor today and his job offer. He may be incredibly handsome, but he’s arrogant and clearly inept at hearing the word no when it comes to business. I kinda admire that, actually, even though it’s also incredibly frustrating.
“Really? Do tell.” I say as I get cozy on the sofa, waiting for her latest dating news. I live vicariously through her. I hear her ups and downs with men, offering a shoulder if she needs it or cab fare if she’s running short. At least one of us gets the male gaze.
“First, tell me about your day,” she says, putting her cell down and looking at me. She usually lets me go first, because she will talk all night about her dates and knows full well I don’t have much to offer her in that regard, but this afternoon was a little different for me.
“A new guy came in today,” I tell her, shrugging like it’s no big deal, yet it’s the only thing I’ve been thinking about since.
“Well… was he cute?” she asks cautiously, immediately grinning, and I smile. I never do this, talk about a guy, let alone a client, yet here I am.
“Nooo, cute isn’t the word I would use.” He left me feeling very frustrated, mainly because everything he said was correct. We do need to remodel; we do need a computer system, and I’ve been telling my mom for months to change the incense that she burns, but she doesn’t agree, and it’s her business, not mine.
“Good-looking? Easy on the eye? Hunk of spunk?” As she wiggles her eyebrows, I think about his kind eyes, his broad shoulders, and his chiseled torso that looked like I could bounce a coin off it.
“He was handsome, in a rugged, manly kinda way. He was a man. Like, a giant man,” I say, nodding, happy with that assessment, which I know is accurate. Every time I blink, I still see his half-naked body from earlier.
“Man?” Trisha’s interest has now piqued.
“Yes, not a boy, but a man. Tall, broad, big hands, beard, like a lumberjack,” I tell her.
“Big hands, eh?” she says teasingly, and I groan, remorseful for sharing already.
“Oh my gosh, stop.”
“So when are you seeing him again?” If it was Trisha who met him, she would have a date lined up already.
“I said good-looking, but then he opened his mouth,” I say with a smirk.
“Oh God, a good-looking asshole. I hate them the most.” She rolls her eyes.
“Not an asshole, exactly…” I say, because that sounds too harsh a word.
“A dumb idiot?” she counters.
“No, he’s smart, very smart. Tenacious? A little arrogant, maybe?” I say, thinking about him.
“Hmmm, so smart, arrogant, good-looking…?”
“And frustrating. Like, really frustrating. Do you know he had the audacity to insult the business entirely before he had the balls to offer me a job?” I tell her, because that does take some balls. Regardless of whether my mom owns the business or not.
“Hmmm, smart, arrogant, good-looking, has big balls…?” she repeats, but I don’t really hear her, my mind now spinning.
“He actually wants me to move to some small town in the middle of nowhere to work in some distillery. He makes whiskey, Trisha. I barely even drink alcohol,” I tell her, like it’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
“What kind of job?” Trisha crosses her legs on the sofa, and I know she’s invested in this conversation now.
“They’re opening a health retreat or something, and get this… he wants me to consult. Help them bring it to life,” I tell her, snorting at the ridiculousness of it all.
“What the hell does a distillery want to open a spa for? Sounds a bit suss to me.” Her eyes narrow, sensing something isn’t right.
“Well, I haven’t really looked into it, but I did look up Whispers, and it’s a small town a few hours’ flight away. Looks really pretty.”
“What’s the name of the distillery?” she asks, grabbing her phone again. “We need to stalk him on social media.”
“We are not stalking him,” I groan, but she ignores me.
“Whoops, my fingers have already moved.”
“It’s called Whiteman’s.” She’ll find him online, no matter what I say. I know the name because I’ve done nothing but look at his business card for the last hour straight. I should have thrown it in the trash like I was going to, but I didn’t. It’s still burning a hole in my pocket.
“Whiteman’s Whiskey. I’ve heard of them. It’s like super expensive shit. Is this the guy?” she asks, thrusting her phone toward me, and I lean forward to see a very attractive older man’s profile image staring back at me.
“Nope, the guy I saw today was named Connor,” I tell her, and she looks back at her phone.
“Oh… Ooohhhhh…” Her eyes bug out. “Look at that! He’s…” she trails off, lost for words, as she shows me an image on her small screen of the man I saw half-naked this afternoon. He’s in suit that’s tailored to his perfect body, and I swallow.
“Let me see!” I say, jumping off the sofa and moving to her, sitting on the arm of the chair to look over her shoulder.
“So, this is him?” she confirms, and I grab her phone. My gasp is audible, and my mouth immediately dries up.
“Yep…” The word comes out as a squeak as I look at the man who hasn’t left my mind. I read the words under his headshot.
“Let me read,” Trisha says, snatching the phone back while I sit in shock. I mean, I saw him in the flesh, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but in that photo, he’s in a suit and, damn, he looks good.
“Says here that he and his father, Tanner, own Whiteman’s Whiskey, the most sought-after whiskey in the country. Let me search some more… ’cause websites can be fake,” she says, her eyebrows pinching as she gets into detective mode and I go sit back down on the sofa, my nerves now a little frayed.
“Oh shit, he’s like a gazillionaire… Says here he’s best friends with the president,” Trisha says.
“What?” I think I’m going to faint. How can such an arrogant, egotistical man be friends with the president? I love our president, everybody does, and his first lady is awesome too.
“Apparently, they went to college together. Oh, and he’s single,” she teases, and I roll my eyes.
“C’mon, Daisy, I’ve barely known you to date. Maybe a few guys from the apps, but you never put yourself out there,” Trisha says, and she’s right.
“Yeah, well, I’m a professional. I can’t go hitting on the clients that come into Sunshine. I’m also not going to date a man who is such a…”
“Good-looking, rich, smart go-getter with big balls… Gee, Daisy, they all sound like pretty good qualities to me. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with getting to know your clients. I hit on our patrons all the time.”
“Well… for starters… it’s unprofessional. People come to forget about their worries and to relax and relieve their stress.”
“I bet this guy Connor would luuuurrrrve for you to relieve his stress,” she murmurs.
“Trisha!” I admonish, throwing our lumpy cushion at her head, but she catches it in time.
“He’s a client, not to mention, just offered me a job. There’s no dating in that equation,” I tell her, and she thinks about that.
“Hmmm, so you’re actually thinking about taking the job, then?” she asks, and I swallow. It’s all I have thought about since he left. He’s clearly used to getting his own way, but I did enjoy talking about business. I enjoyed the fact he listened to my thoughts and ideas even more. But I couldn’t leave my mom all alone to manage Sunshine.
“I’m not sure I could handle him being my boss,” I tell her, not admitting that the desire to give the job a go is actually growing. I push that feeling down. Not going to happen. It can’t happen.
“He wouldn’t technically be your boss. You would be a consultant, which means you’re not on his staff, just merely an expert hired to tell them what they need to do. Which you would be more than qualified for, I might add.”
I take a deep breath, it all feeling a little too surreal.
“So, what are you going to do?” Trisha asks as she flicks through image after image, showing them to me and each one looking better than the last. He’s in a suit, then in jeans and a button-down shirt, has a backward cap on in another, then I see all the ones with his various girlfriends. A lot of different ones. All the same type. Blond, skinny, tall, luxurious. He clearly has a type, and it’s the complete opposite of me.
“I already told him no. Although, he’s not really taking that as an answer. Told me to think about it and call him on Monday. But I can’t leave Mom.”
“Of course you can. She’s holding you back. Not on purpose. You know I love your mom. But the two of you are just not aligned on the business. You’re young, hungry for more, and she’s close to retiring, wanting a simpler life. Besides, it's only for a month or two, and then you’ll come back,” Trisha says, putting it all into perspective.
“I can’t bring wellness to a whiskey distillery. The two don’t even work together very well,” I murmur. I mean, I’ve never had a glass of whiskey, but I know it has a high proof.
Alcohol generally isn’t great. It’s a toxin in the body, but I do know that whiskey temporarily widens blood vessels and can clear mucus congestion in your chest and nose, which is why so many people often take a nip of whiskey when they have a cold or flu. It’s something my father swears by. While it isn't good in large amounts, in small amounts, it can be somewhat beneficial. I would probably steep eucalyptus or tea tree oils and do a steam bath when sick, a nip of whiskey probably does have its place.
“Whispers is about eight hundred and fifty miles from New York. Talk about getting out of the city.” Trisha’s not a fan of country living.
“See, too far away,” I say, like that’s my deciding factor, when, in reality, getting out of the city might be good for a while.
“At least we know he isn’t a serial killer or anything, so that’s a plus. And if you don’t take his job offer, you still have his number, so you should ask him out.”
I’m already shaking my head. “Not happening.”
“Don’t give me any of that bullshit about your size. Men love voluptuous women.”
“I’m bigger than most.” I sink into the sofa, feeling my rolls at my waist that are more pronounced now that I’m sitting. I never used to care. I’m usually happy in my body. I flaunt my assets, never hide. But things changed a few months ago.
“You're plus-size, so what? Most girls are!” Trisha is great for my confidence.
“But I’m not exactly what men are looking for.” Not that I’m sad about that fact. I am who I am. Most people prefer beautiful skinny blond women. Trisha’s looks fall into that category as well.
“That guy. I blame that guy about three months ago. Since then, you’ve been against dating.” She jumps up, now pacing around the living room. She’s right. He knocked my confidence big-time. Now I can’t get past my size when I think about dating again.
“What guy?” I ask her, knowing exactly who she’s talking about.
“Mr. I’m Not Really Feeling It. That asshole took one look at you and walked away. He didn’t even talk to you and get to know you. He judged you solely on your looks, and let's be honest, he needs glasses because you, my friend, are beautiful.”
I give her a smile. “Thanks, Trisha. But I’m fine. Mr. Right will come along one day.” I tell her the words that no longer feel like they will come true, and she stops and sighs.
“You should call him. Meet him this weekend for brunch or something while he’s in the city. Talk about the job offer .” She makes a last-ditch attempt, which she already knows is futile.
“Can’t. Mom’s making me dahl,” I tell her, my tone ending the conversation.
“Yum, bring some home.” Her love for my mom’s dahl is not to be underestimated. “Sooooo… I need to ask you a favor…”
“I knew it. That's why you’re offering to pay for dinner.”
“Yes, I need something from you.” She sits up straighter, like it’s of utmost importance. So I do the same.
“Okay, what is it?” I ask, ready for the onslaught, wondering what she needs this time.
“I need you to cover for me tomorrow night at the stadium.” She says the words so quickly that they run into each other, and I slump.
“What?” I moan, already knowing that I don’t want to. I’ve only done it once before, and it was a nightmare.
“Please? I have a date with Tom,” she says with a bright smile.
“Tom? Who the hell is Tom?” I ask, wishing I could rewind the clock and go back to my last appointment at Sunshine, so I don’t have to pretend to be a server at the stadium where she works casually on the weekends.
“The guy I met online today, the one I’m going to marry. He’s super sweet, caring, and so funny. Look…” she says, thrusting her phone in my face so I can see his picture, and I cringe. He looks small, thin, and like he couldn’t even hold my hand, let alone my weight.
“He’s good-looking, right?” She sounds hopeful, and I give her a small smile.
“Yeah, sure. I mean, not really my type.” I wasn’t sure I had a type. Until today.
“So, please, can you cover my shift?” she begs, looking at me with those puppy dog eyes she gets. I sigh, and she grins, knowing that I will.
“What’s on?” I ask, hoping it’s something low-key, although I think it’s mainly sports played there.
“Ahhh, well, it’s Saturday night football,” she says hesitantly, watching me carefully.
“Football? Really?” I groan again. I’m not a sporty girl myself, and I have even less of an appetite to be serving hot dogs to groups of men who yell and scream over other men who run around a field with a ball.
“Yeah, but it’ll be way better than last time,” she assures me, knowing that she really has to sell this to me.
“Different how?” I ask, not believing a word she is saying.
“Well, I was promoted, so now I look after a corporate suite. I’ve only ever done it once, and it was full of suited-up businessmen. You’ll be fine.”
That sounds a little better. Maybe only ten or twenty men, instead of the hundreds who usually come to the hot dog stand.
“What’s the corporation?” I ask, not sure why, as I don’t really care. But if they own a petroleum company or are killing off the rainforest or something, I might not be the best fit.
“The what?” She frowns, like the question I’m asking is odd.
“Who owns the suite? What kind of company?” I clarify.
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t pay attention to that kind of detail,” she murmurs, not really into it either. “Please, if Tom and I get married and have a baby, we’ll name it after you.”
“Really? You’ll name your daughter Daisy?” I ask, knowing that she hates flowers, and Daisy wouldn’t be at the top of her list of names.
“Well, no. Maybe your middle name, though.”
I laugh and roll my eyes. Daisy was Mom’s choice, and my middle name was Dad’s.
“You’ll call your child Adeline?” I ask.
“Yes, hand on heart, when Tom and I decide to have babies, I’ll call it Adeline,” she says, holding her hand up like she’s pledging.
“Please, you know I have to go. It’s been such a long time since I have found a guy I really like online.”
“What about Graham from last week?” I ask, thinking back to last Friday night’s conversation about the man she met online and was going to marry then.
“Bluuurgh,” is her only response.
“What about Christian from the week before?” I ask. We have this conversation every week.
“Bi,” she states, and I raise my eyebrows.
“Really?” I didn’t expect that.
“Yep, wanted a three-way with another guy, so I threw my drink in his face. I don’t share, you know that.”
I smirk before I breathe out a resigned sigh.
“Okay, fine. I’ll cover it. But I need a uniform,” I tell her, because we won’t let her manager know. I’ll just slip in, pretend I’m her for the night, and slip out. It worked last time, and I can’t be bothered filling out any paperwork or employment details.
“I’ll organize everything. Thank you!” she squeals, jumping up from the armchair and clapping before she grabs her phone and starts texting, clearly confirming things with Tom.
I sit watching her, wondering if I’ll ever get that feeling. The giddy emotion of being so into a guy and waiting for their call. I think about Connor again, the man and the job offer. This could be something, or it could be nothing, but regardless, I need to think about my future. I need a change that brings me more joy. I need a challenge.