Chapter Seven Before—Poppy
| Seven |
Before—Poppy
I could spot the f-boys a mile away. And Bennett wasn’t one of them.
The club where I waitress doesn’t typically attract his type.
We appeal more to the tech bros and hedge fund assholes, but they tip well, and living in New York isn’t cheap, so I count myself lucky to have the job.
I know it’s not my superb waitressing skills that got me hired, but rather my long legs and fiery mane.
The manager took one look at me and asked, “When can you start?” Anyway, the job is temporary.
Something to augment my meager salary at the art gallery while I pay my dues before finally making a name for myself in the art world.
And where else to do that but New York City?
My mother always said New York was uncivilized.
But I didn’t want civilized. I wanted interesting.
Only in New York would I find appreciation for my mixed-media collages.
I loved to scour flea markets and thrift stores for old photographs, long-forgotten letters, discarded newspapers.
They told a story. It wasn’t the road my parents had planned for me.
But once I finished college, I didn’t have to worry about what they wanted. And now I’m here.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Bennett.
He was one of those men whose gaze could hold you hostage.
He was casually dressed, standing in the corner, talking to a woman who looked to be about ten years his senior.
I could tell they weren’t romantically involved.
Maybe his boss, or a client, I thought. When I walked over to get their order, his eyes widened when he saw me.
I was used to having that effect on men, but the look in his eyes was different.
It was tender, searching. Not the lustful gaze I always received from the recently graduated frat boys I was used to serving.
He ordered a Jameson on the rocks, she a gin martini.
The little I overheard of their conversation led me to believe he was a writer.
I later found out that his agent had sold another of his books, and they were out for a celebratory drink.
But that night, all I knew was that he was an artist, like me, and I thought maybe fate had brought him into my bar for a reason.
They stayed for one more round, and I did something I’d never done before.
When his companion left to go to the ladies’ room, I handed him a note with my phone number.
I had no idea that action would completely alter the course of my life.