ArchivedLogs:The Master at Work

The Master at Work
Dramatis Personae Corey, Jim, Melinda, Morgan Brandt, Shelby
In Absentia	2013-04-19 '
Location <NYC> Montagues - SoHo
Montagues harkens back to the day when SoHo was filled to the brim with artists, with its mismatched furniture, all plush and decorated heavily with carved wood, but remains trendy enough to keep its newer patrons by making sure that furniture is clean, in good repair and inviting. The antique tables all have been reinforced to seem less creaky. The real draw of the cafe is the smell: fresh roasted coffee mingles with perfectly steeped teas. Spices from crisp pastries mingle with the tang of clotted cream but don't overwhelm too much the scent of chalk on the menu boards. Montagues is running at a decent tick this Friday afternoon, people getting off early and enjoying the warmer weather means for an increase in iced drinks and blended coffees, even though the sky is overcast and may rain. Melinda is both moving around between the different counters, helping to keep the work process going while keeping one table occupied in the back of the room, where she goes over paperwork. Right now, she pauses for a little bit of a dinner break, grabbing herself a sandwich and a bottled juice and settling into her in the dining room office, sipping at the juice quietly as she reads. He'd gotten the call, but Corey was working so couldn't just escape and vanish instantly. But as far as he knew he wasn't prohibited from talking, or breaks, and he could do stuff in between. Experience in one form or another had let him be able to do most jobs without thought, so his gaze was looking for towards the door as he filled in the few orders that came his way. Through that door comes Shelby! Cue the trumpets! Except not really. The teenager is looking exceptionally unexceptional today, in holey skinny jeans, a zipped up hoodie and faded Converse sneakers. The only thing of note about her is the blank ink teardrop beneath her right eye, partially obscuring the dark smudge of lack o' sleep. She has a skateboard tucked under one arm and a heavy backpack slung over the opposite shoulder. She is careless of both of these--mind yourselves, patrons!--as she approaches the sandwich counter to glare at the young man behind it. "Yo, you got BBLTs?" Morgan couldn't believe she'd made the phone call, if she's honest with herself. She couldn't remember the last time a guy had given her his number on a napkin, rather than just asking for hers, or using cell phones. But even the blurred edges of the memory of meeting him couldn't dim the curiousity. She finds herself wondering if he really /had/ been bursting with all that energy, and while Morgan is not one to let herself have flights of fancy, her mind kept wondering as to everything that could be accomplished...if, if, if. Dark hair is loose in waves today, but there is her leather jacket over the silk olive tank top paired with dark jeans and matching olive heels. Her helmet dangles from one hand, as she lets her gaze roam around the place to find him. There's a smile, as the paramedic heads towards the counter. Melinda takes a bite from her sandwich and chews quietly, keeping an eye on the room through her peripheral vision, for the most part, her eyes locking in on motion. She has paperwork, but it just isn't keeping her attention like it should. Her gaze drifts toward the sandwich counter when she hears a familiar voice, eyebrows rising as she studies the redhead from behind, considering. She keeps eating though, and waits for her to finish her order. The energy in Morgan's mannerisms catch her attention next, brows creasing only momentarily before interest is dismissed. Taken out of his revelry of seeing who he was looking for, Corey raised a brow and looked to Shelby a moment, automatic processing being interrupted by acronyms. "You talking about a basil, bacon, lettuce and tomato, or a bacon, bacon lettuce and tomato? And whole wheat, or something else?" Better to query than guess, especially with glarey girl. Confusion or not, he still had a smile on his face as he set to the task, as one way or another the last three letters would be necessary for completion. It was a good thing that he seemed tireless since he'd been there most of the day already, and the apron he was wearing still seemed moderately clean. "Double bacon," Shelby confirms, mollified somewhat when Corey gets right to work. "Fuck whole wheat, I'll take it on white," she adds. Then she is up on her toes, craning her neck to look behind the counter. It doesn't immediately occur to her to check out the seating area. "Mel in today?" There's a pause in Morgan's steps, a glance around before her eyes focus more squarely on Corey. Yet no one else really seems to notice. There's a slight shake of her head, before she's falling in line behind the girl ordering a double bacon BLT. Kid has good taste, Morgan would have to say. Maybe lunch isn't a bad idea, since Breakfast had been scalding coffee and a piece of toast half shared with the stray dog outside her building. She tips her head, keeping that smirky smile as she watches Corey in action. "Over here, Shelby," Mel raises her hand and her voice to attract the kid's attention. "Bring your food over when you get it." Double bacon confirmation provided, Corey's body could get back to working without his brain interfering. "Yeah, she's over in the corner there," he said with a nod of his head, "taking a break for food finally. " Though as the boss lady did her own noting of the visitor, he could finish up the sandwich and hand it over. "Enjoy, hope theres enough bacon." Smiling to her as she went off, he looked then to Morgan as she was next in line, and made a somewhat sheepish grin. "I got to see you after a double shift last time, hope you don't mind seeing me in shift now. I don't think I've got too much time left, so I can get you something to eat and drink in the meanwhile." The same energy she'd noted from him before was there now, the healing energy taking up its own space. "Thanks." For the food? For the pointer? Shelby doesn't clarify, she just trundles over towards Mel with her sandwich clutched in one greedy little hand. The skateboard clatters to the floor before she slides into the seat opposite the older woman. /Some/ care is taken to avoid setting the wrapped sandwich down on paperwork. Some. "Hey," she says as she gets settled, "How're you doing?" The only thing Morgan could compare it to was being in that one spot in the Arizona desert where she'd gone camping with her family when she was a kid. She had stood in the sun, and felt warmed all the way through in a way that had nothing to do with UV rays. There's a quick grin, her head tilting to the side with a toss of her hair. "Hey, we all have to make a living. I'll have what the kid had, but I'll take mine on wheat." There's a curious gaze wandering over him, though she appears lost in thought until she blinks and straightens a bit. "So how long have you been working here?" Melinda begins scooping up papers and setting them to one side once she calls Shelby over, so there's very little chance her food will damage anything. "I'm okay. Haven't seen you in a while. How have you been?" Her sandwich seems to be composed of turkey and bacon with avocado, because that's delicious. She takes another bite and has to pinch the sandwich while her teeth take another chance to try and clip off the strip of bacon half in her mouth, so the other half stays in the sandwich. Nodding at the order detail, Corey started in on the sandwich, not really noticing any extra scrutiny he was receiving. "Bacon's popular today it seems. It must be all the extra health benefits." Smiling to himself, he thought a moment at the question as he sliced things up. "Not that long actually. Day or two after I met you honestly. But its a nice place, for the most part the customers aren't any worse than anywhere else, and I smell like coffee when I get off work. Better than some of the other job's I've had." "Fucking /terrible/," Shelby says, the profanity softened only slightly by the bite she's taken. Several months off the street and she still eats as if she's starving. Or maybe she just /really/ loves bacon. "Mmphrm. Twins've run away 'cause of me, I pissed off Jax, made Hive feel like an ass, got detention for cheating and one of the new teachers is squirting me in the goddamn face with a /water/ gun, every time I say a bad word. Life sucks." But at least she has bacon. Bacon is awesome, Morgan will agree. All sort of benefits. "Hey, bacon is a great placebo and motivator." She informs Corey, hand sliding into her pocket for her money. "Can I have a water with that, too? I should probably balance a little bit." The smirk on her face indicates balancing a healthy diet is not her strong suit. "Smelling like coffee isn't bad. Better than smelling like... well, like old blood and god knows what else." Melinda just stares. Her face may contort in a grimace of disbelief, but her shoulders hunch in concern. "What the ..." She almost swore, on duty. That's less than good. She draws in a deep breath and wets her lips. "Oh god, Shelby, I'm sorry." She puts down her sandwich and studies the teenager, worry still creasing her forehead. "Shit," yeah, it is still coming out. "Is there anything I can do?" Sammiching completed, Corey had the drink counter stuff assist with the water as he handed over the double baconated delight. "I never said it was a bad idea to eat bacon. I just tend towards turkey or pseudo bacon normally. Health nut thing ya know, excercise, eat right, etcetera, etcetera. Thankfully coffee doesn't count." A man had to draw the line somewhere after all. "I can't imagine how tough it must be to get that stuff out of clothing. But I guess thats what all the white is for. Bleach it till its gone." He did however glance away from Morgan a second as the boss lady seemed distressed, but he wasn't sure if it was his right to interrupt over there or not. Shelby is enough of a teenager to suffer a pang of satisfaction at Melinda's response. Fortunately, she is distracted enough that it doesn't show /too/ much--she's glancing down at the moment, tweezing a slice of tomato out of her sandwich and leaving it discarded on the wrapper. Too healthy. "Yeah, if you know where the restart button is," she says, voice dry and darkly amused. "Same shit, different day, I guess. How's it going with you? You and Jim fucked yet?" "Actually, most of mine are colored. I have routines for getting stuff out, actually. And we do have some laundry services at the station." Corey isn't the only one to notice the distress, though for Morgan it's more of a glance at a stranger. "Yeah, yeah yeah. I get plenty of exercise, but eating right on my schedule is harder. Besides, what's the point of eating if you don't get to indulge in the taste?" There's a lift of brows at that, sliding money across the counter. Worry softens as a deep red blush starts to take over, an embarrassed fluster causing Melinda to look away as she grabs her drink to take a sip. She notices Corey noticing and furrows her brows again. "Aren't you off your shift yet? Clock out, go home." Gruff, it may be, but it is accurate and carries a trace of jovial humor. If Morgan is noticed, Mel does nothing to call her out. Instead, she glances back at Shelby. "People like working here so much, they forget to leave. Gotta stay on them to keep the business open. Overtime is expensive." Does she answer any of Shelby's questions? Nooooooo. Settling the monetary side of matters and not seeing anybody else in line, Corey leaned a little to relax and talk at least till the next thing came up. "I just end up buying cheap stuff I don't mind destroying. It tends to work out well for when I end up needing something to wear for gardening or whatever." Tugging at the plain grey teeshirt under the apron, he smiled as he said "Three for five bucks. And.." Interrupted by the bosslady, he leaned back checking the clock, and gave a shrug. When you were told to get out, you got going. "One moment," he said to Morgan as he slung the apron off, and went through shift exiting. Once he was settled he looked over to Mel, "Alright, call if you need anything." He glanced to Shelby, then back to Melinda at that, then turned back to Morgan with a smile. "Guess I could have just met up with you somewhere else, though I guess we could count this as me making you lunch." "Well yeah," Shelby notes with a glance at Corey, "they only got like the best supervisor in the world. Hey, y'ever notice he's kinda scruffy like Jim is. Nice ass, too." Which, of course, leads her back to studying Melinda. The blush is a dead giveaway, and the teenager finds solace from her own misery by crowing over Mel's "good luck". "Oh my god, you /did/! Was he any good? Oh my god oh my god, you have to tell me /everything/." Really. She has to. "Oh, I have a ton of cheap t-shirts, especially long sleeved for under the scrubs in the winter. But it's hard to really enjoy getting dressed to go out in a t-shirt you got in a plastic pack with other ones." Morgan smirks a touch, green eyes amused in her expression. "No way, I paid for my lunch. Making me lunch would be way more complicated." There's a subtle undertone of teasing in her words, as the brunette heads for a table. "Sit with me while I eat?" "I hadn't noticed," Melinda notes dryly, her lips pursed. When she settles her attention on Shelby more now that she's continuing the questioning. "It's... um, good." Stilted language definitely lets on that she's hiding things, understating. "It's infrequent. I mean, he's not the type, you know?" No, probably not. Her blush dies away a bit and she takes another bite of her sandwich to stall the conversation. "Why do you want to know everything? I mean... come on, Shelby, can't just... not at work." Not hearing commentary on his back side, Corey nodded and went over to one of the tables, pulling a seat for her to sit into. "Worth a shot though. Hrm, how complicated of a lunch are we talking? Seared scallops complicated, radishes carved into roses complicated, or making phyllo dough from scratch complicated?" He had a bemused look on his face as he watched her. "I had a job with a catering company for a few months. Chefs are a rough boss, really big perfectionists." "Ha, you mean fucking /amazing/." Shelby, master of winnowing out the truth behind understatements--and reversing their status to overstatement. "I /don't/ know, s'why I'm asking. I guess if you wanna talk about it later though..." She spares another brief glance at those nearest, including the couple chatting over lunch, then returns to her sandwich. Omnomnom. "That's cool, though. I mean, like...Jim's awesome and you're awesome, so. I'm glad /something's/ going all right now, 'cause jesus...nothin' else is." Morgan laughs. "I like scallops, but I prefer them broiled, myself. And are radishes that hard to cut to look like flowers?" She eases into the seat, with a murmured "thank you.". She takes a sip of her water first, watching him with those green eyes sharp with curiousity. "Are you always this mellow?" "heh. Perhaps. He's kind of a secretive guy. Maybe we can go out and have smoke sometime." Mel leans forward, resting her elbows on the table. "I don't know if it's going right, but it's nice." She gives a small smile, inhaling deeply as she scrubs her face. "Though, I'm serious, Shelby. If you need someone to talk to about this shit, let me know. It sounds like a lot of your life is in limbo. Do you have anything good going for you right now?" "I try to be, I mean, I do a lot of meditation and stuff like that. Doctors hate doing the stress test on my physical, I practically have to max the thing out to get the readings they are looking for." Corey was making mental notes, though before he forgot her other question, he grinned. "Oh, and the radishes?Pain in the ass, the first couple times you end up stabbing your fingers with a pairing knife. Small little thing, sharp sharp knife. Still, I've got all my fingers still, so all's well there." He did however glance back towards Shelby and Mel once or twice now that things seemed to be settling down slightly. "Seriously? You smoke now?" Shelby's eyes flick curiously over her tablemate, as if to discern what other changes may have taken place. Then she's popping the last bit of crust into her mouth and sucking her fingers clean of bacon grease. What, napkins? Naaah. "Not much to talk about. It's all shit, talking's not really gonna fix it, y'know? I got...uh. A YouTube channel? It's getting views." Though she doesn't sound entirely certain that this is a decent balance. "And there was...I dunno. It /started/ good but it's all kind've fucked up right now. Me and Hive, we...y'know? I've liked him for like forever and asked him out but he said no 'cause bad timing but then he kissed me." "Never had a stress test, myself. Probably because I next to never go to a doctor. I know, I know, it's a bad habit, especially for someone like me." Morgan admits after a bite of her sandwich. "But I go once a year for my check-up, and I don't get sick all that often, so.." There's a shrug. "Paring knives are meant to be sharp, yes. Maybe it is all in how you use them." That sandwich is disappearing. "So, you want to hang out sometime?" "Wait," Melinda looks confused and perhaps concerned, trying to follow Shelby's description of events. "I'll check out your youtube channel, but what's this about Hive? You asked him out and he gave you a consolation kiss? That seems - well, a bit shitty of him." She is still picking at her sandwich, eating quietly and washing it down with rapidly disappearing juice. "You want me to smother him with a pillow for you?" "I try and go just to make sure. I'm in the same boat, I don't get sick really, but hey, internals and all." Corey did however smile as she asked him the last question. "That was the point of the number. I guess the napkin hadn't gotten lost at least." He had eaten earlier, so he was content to wait for her to finish up. "And when you finish up lunch, we can head out and see how it goes. The weather's supposed to stay dry for a little bit longer at least. " "Nah, I asked him out like /forever/ ago, y'know? Before B asked me out. He said no then. I went to go see him last weekend though 'cause he's all fucked up still and one thing led to another and..." Shelby rolls her shoulders. Shrug. So casual. "Now it's all fucked up. 'Cause the twins ran off, y'know?" She licks her lips--more grease--and settles back in the chair, idly scratching at the table's surface with a fingernail. "But you asked about good shit and it /was/ nice. For a little while." "Lemon tarts?" Mel asks, brows rising, curious. Morgan actually, blushes, just a touch. "I don't rememeber the last time a guy wrote his number on a napkin." She jokes, before she's finishing off her sandwich. She's a fast eater, but neat. One in her occupation doesn't have a ton of time to eat. "Let's head out, and find something to do. " She rises, using her /napkin/ to wipe her mouth. "How do you feel about motorcycles?" "Yeah well, I figured asking for your number probably would have gotten me the rejection hotline number. So I left it in your court, and it worked out didn't it?" Corey was rising up as she finished, and offered her a hand up. "They're pretty fancy, but I've never rode on one myself. Did four wheelers with a cousin once when I was younger, but thats about the closest to it." He glanced down to her helmet, and tilted his head. "Are you offering me a ride?" There was amusement in that statement at least. "Huh?" That earns Mel a blink, complete with Shelby tilting her head like a confused puppy. "Yeah, how'd you...oh shit, did he tell you? What'd he say?" "He said nothing. I apparently showed up after you, and all he would remark is that he had a visitor." Melinda shrugs a little and purses her lips. "I took a wild guess." She finishes off her sandwich and frowns. "He was rather pathetic in bed. Cuddly might be an appropriate descriptor, too. Had to try to force him to eat. Encourage is a better word." "Shit." Cue a droop that could be taken as disappointment /or/ sulking, depending on one's views of teenage posturing. Shelby looks off through the window, her brow furrowing. "Yeah. He was...I kinda...I figured he'd eat more if he didn't have to move 'cause he's a lazy butt." Aaand that's all she's willing to say about that. One chintoss later and she's got her lips settled in a smirk. "Guys, huh? Almost makes y'wanna become a lesbian sometimes." "Maybe. I tried it in college, but maybe I wasn't with the right lesbian." Melinda gives Shelby a brow waggle, but shakes her head and settles down. "Don't let Hive turn you off too much. There are plenty of other hot men with much less going on in the brain department." She considers. "No other boys at school catch your eye?" That was unexpected. Shelby blinks yet again at Melinda, then dissolves into snickering. The sulk is temporarily banished. "Man, every time I think you're like, super pent up, you go and say shit like that." But she's already shaking her head to the question. "Taylor's pretty hot but he's seeing someone. And...I mean, B's sweet and all," she says, briefly pained, "but that was...I dunno. He asked, y'know? Why not say yes. I liked him but I kinda...dig older guys." Big surprise. "And the only college dudes I know are gay or fucked up." "Well, if there's no huge rush, why not take some time off from dating?" Mel suggests. "Sounds like you got a lot of stuff to deal with and things to do without worrying about whether some boyfriend is going to drag your heart through the wringer and take away your steam." She wiggles her fingers up against the base of her skull, under her low pony tail. "Annnd, maybe you can use this heartache to write a song. Taylor Swift it up or something. Get the feels on paper and into music before you cheer up?" "I guess, yeah. Stupid feels," Shelby says with a rueful, crooked grin. "Should've just stuck with fucking. Maybe I'll look for a hook up this weekend. S'been awhile." She pushes her chair back and bends to retrieve bag and board. "I'ma go have that smoke, you in?" "Fucking is nice," Melinda adds in a quiet voice but nods as she starts to get up. "Sure, but you're going to have to let me bum off you, as I don't really carry them with me." She's terrible. "Unless you want to walk to a convenience store first." She rolls her shoulders as she gathers up her paper work, plate and bottle. "I'll meet you outside by the alley, okay?" And with that, she's up and heading to the back. "Nah, I got plenty, s'cool." Shelby tips Melinda the most careless of salutes and ambles for the front door--only to be observed before the front window cutting around to the back. The alley is totes in her zone, she can play the role of hoodlum by cozying back against a damp brick wall, bracing a heel back and lighting up. All that's missing are the snapping and Broadway soundtrack. Ohh yeah. Melinda appears in the alley after a few minutes, exiting through the cafe's back door. She has two folding chairs with her, plopping one down by Shelby and opening the second for herself. She settles into it and scrubs at her face. She's quiet. Awww, but sitting ruins the whole image Shelby has crafted for herself. She hesitates briefly, then goes ahead and takes a seat beside Mel. A moment later and a smoke, with lighter, are being also waved at her face. "That is not a happy I got fucked yay face," the teenager remarks. Melinda takes the lighter and cigarette and lights it in a clumsy fashion, but does manage to get it lit without too much trouble. She hands back the lighter and rests her elbows on her knees. "Oh come on, getting laid happy face lasts a day, maybe two. Then you sit around and think about what you did for a long time. It's a thing. It's not like it was a one night stand kind of situation, so there's a lot of thinking involved." "Why?" Shelby seems genuinely puzzled. On more than one count, it turns out! "I'm guessing maybe you're not talking about fun thinking about what you did, huh? Seems kind've a waste of a good lay if you're thinking about it /that/ much." She slumps down in her chair, slinging one leg over the other and absently, energetically, bouncing her foot. "You think too much about stuff and you just fuck it up. That's how you get /un/happy." "Yeah, I'm not thinking of the fun part." Melinda rubs at her lips with her thumb lightly. The way she smokes is still very novice, but she is not choking and she does not seem to be in any pain as she takes draws, expelling gray curls of smoke when she is done. "And everyone's telling me not to over think this - or in Jim's case, not to ask too many questions, but I'm not good at shutting off my brain." "Oh man," Shelby says slowly, drawing out the vowels, "yeah, dude, /no/. He's totally not the ask him questions type." She waves her own cigarette to dismiss the very idea, sending out little trails of smoke to drift up towards the slice of sky above the alleyway. "You get too serious and dude's gonna take off," she says with great conviction, "'cause I /totally/ would, he's like...grown up me except with more hair. And a gun. But the sex is great, right?" "Yeah, the sex was great. Shelby, hon, when you say you like older guys, don't aim too old. They can be really good at what they do, but they can also not wish to do it as much." Mel takes another drag and inhales deeply after, letting the air out slowly. "So, how would I keep a person like you around, eh?" "Well, yeah, but they totally make a pill for that now. You can even get it online. S'cheaper that way too." Get it? She meant /Viagra/, Mel. Shelby's grin dims only when she brings her cigarette in for a long, savoring pull. An attempt is made afterward to manage smoke rings but she lacks the proper technique. "Don't go snooping," she advises, "and that means no questions. Dude makes his whole living snooping on other people, right? That's gotta suck, he's just gonna wanna kick back with a beer and a footrub. Just have fun, y'know? Goof around, like.../enjoy/ it. Don't make it /work/." "I didn't say he couldn't do it, Shelby. Maybe I just tired him out." Mel scratches at her chin lightly. "Anyway, we'll see how things go. I don't really care about his work life or any of that. I just wanted to know what he liked to do after sex and what kind of coffee he wanted and... you know, stupid shit. I have learned. Don't ask questions." Shelby slides a look sidelong at Melinda. It is very much a 'what the fuck' look, complete with skeptical eyebrows. "Did you...ask him that right after you fucked?" she inquires. "Not immediately," Melinda offers quietly. "I just got up to use the bathroom after a while and when I came back, he was putting on clothes." She shrugs and smokes. "Yeah, that's like...still afterglow territory." Her initial surprise has faded somewhat, leaving Shelby to study the other woman with a touch more sympathy. "Okay, here's what you do...next time ya'll are in bed, afterwards just...slap him on the ass, tell him he was fucking incredible, then like...go have a beer. Or a smoke. The slap on the ass is important," she says, apparently serious. Mostly. "Note to self, stock up on beer." Melinda takes that away from the conversation. "Seriously, it's been three or four years since I last had a relationship, and college relationships are very different. Man, then it was sex and then the next thing. Oh shit, gotta run to class. You good? Sure. You want to grab brunch before class? Awesome. God, why are we tied up in fly lines in the catwalk? Good times." "See? You already know this shit," the girl says, chipper and grinning again. "Maybe you can't shut your brain off but doesn't mean you gotta show it, huh? It's not like he's a telepath. Dude's just a guy. Dicks are /easy/." Melinda laughs a little. It is unfortunately when she has smoke in her lungs, so it hurts coming back out, causing her to cough. When she finally finishes coughing, she laughs again and shakes her head. "Come on, I can handle the dicks, it's the person that is attached to them that makes me nervous." Ooh, Mel's setting them up and Shelby's just knocking them right outta the park. Witness: "That's why God made vibrators and those big-ass jelly dildos. You should get one. One of those double-headed ones." She extends her arm, waving it as if she were holding a sword. "Tell him if he doesn't fuck you right then, you're trading him in for jelly and double-A batteries." "Ha. Maybe a vibrator would be nice. Maybe shacking up with another guy too." Mel looks sideways at Shelby. Then takes a drag. Then blows out smoke. "I don't know. It seems like that would just be inviting more of a headache. I should get a vibrator and a pack of beer and just enjoy a friday night whether he decides to show up or not." She leans back in her chair, watching which way the breeze blows the smoke from her cigarette and adjusts how she holds it accordingly. Shelby tilts her chair back. Tilt tilt tilt, until it's balanced on the back legs. Fortunately there is a wall right there to keep her from falling over. "You wanna see him tonight?" The questions is casual. "It wouldn't suck," Mel concludes, looking at Shelby, eyes narrowing a bit. "And here I thought you were going to invite me to dancing or something instead. Come on, Shelby, think about yourself for a while. What can I do to make your weekend a step in a happier direction?" "Lend me your phone?" What? Shelby was answering the question! Melinda eyes Shelby. Then she smirks and laughs a little and hands over the phone. "Here. Do your worst." Shelby accepts the phone with a sniff and a grin. "My worst? Fuck that, this is gonna be /art/. Just watch the master at work," she advises the older woman. Sticking the cigarette in the corner of her mouth--the smoke that curls up causes that eye to scrunch up, making her look like Popeye--she begins to type. Slowly. Because the gig will be up if she fucks up the spelling. (Shelby --> Jim): TEXT from Melinda's number: Hey Jim. Its Friday night and I am a very lonely lady. Think you can fix that for me?' (Jim --> Shelby): Text takes a minute or two. Or three. Then again, Jim is a slow typer: Where you at? Melinda just sits back and enjoys the results. "What are you saying to him? I hope I will have some scrap of dignity left after this." She raises an eyebrow. "And tomorrow I might have to seek out teenage customers from local schools and see if I can't get you a date." The phone chimes--dings? Cockadoodledoos?--in Shelby's hand but she craftily turns the face away from Melinda to keep the lady from reading the response. "Don't worry," she says, "I'm totally like...texting him with real words. How do you spell question?" The prospect of a date resulting from this earns a lightning-quick grin but then it's back to tapping. Tap tap tap. "Q-u-e-s-t-i-o-n," Melinda laughs, continuing to lean back. "Well, don't make me too suave sounding. I'll never be able to pull it off again, and then I'll have to have you set me up for sex every time I want it. Do you know how many drunk dials you would get?" She is quite serious about this. Oh, her cigarette is almost out. Sadface. She turns and crushes the cherry into the brickface and tosses the filter into a near by trash can. (Shelby --> Jim): There is also a delay on this end. Maybe Melinda is distracted, or also typing slowly!: That depends. Question: do you want me wrapped or unwrapped? "Sweet, thanks." Shelby is reminded of her own cigarette. It's pretty much burned down and when she reaches up to pluck it from her mouth, she's showered in ash. A curse follows, and the tossing of the butt to the ground where she mashes it beneath her toe. "Just gonna find out if he wants to pick you up here or meet you at your place. When're you off?" "Oh, I got off an hour ago. I just have to finish up the paperwork and wait for the night supervisor to show up. She might be here, but I haven't checked yet." Melinda scratches at her cheek. "You really summoned him from the depths of private eyeing? He isn't going to be pissed at me or think I'm pissed at him?" She scowls and gets to her feet, looking like she is going for the phone. "Hey hey hey!" Shelby yanks the phone out of reach and holds up her other hand to ward Melinda off. "You can't interrupt /art/," she scolds. "Dude already sounds like he wants to see you, don't get your panties in a bunch." Speaking of, she pauses to flick a look over Melinda. "You wearing granny panties or nice ones?" (Jim --> Shelby): Another LONG pause. You would think Jim was checking repeatedly to make sure this text came, in fact, from Melinda's phone: Unwrapped, like. Unwrapped unwrapped? (Jim --> Shelby): You're not talking about food are you. "I don't wear granny panties." Mel frowns and then lifts her shirt and tugs at the back of her pants to try and remember what she put on that morning. "Just regular cotton briefs." When she finishes, she crosses her arms over her chest and she waits. WAITS. She waits, eyeing Shelby. Yeah, she's nervous again. The phone chimes again, prompting a quick glance at it. Shelby's grin is sudden and deep. Oho! "Oh man, he's totally into you," she claims. Her thumbs fly over the keypad--then reverse to backspace everything and start again. Oops. Spelling. "Ah, okay. Here's a clue, next time you wanna hook up with him, wear the nice ones. Then stick 'em in your pocket and when you get in his car, put 'em in /his/ pocket or over his leg. Drives guys fucking crazy...lessee..." (Shelby --> Jim): I'm talking about me naked in bed. Do you want to get me naked or what? Better hurry up and decide or I'm going out tonight. "He hasn't taken me driving anywhere yet." Melinda admits, still staring at the phone as she texts. "I suppose I don't need a car to slip them in his pocket, but man, I don't know." She shakes her head again. Finally, she gives up and sits back down. "Tell him to rent a car again, dude loves driving even if he's fucking scary doing it. He names his cars, even the rentals, it's weird," Shelby says, distracted. Apparently helping out friends make her a bossy little git. "Seriously, Mel. You've been handling drunks and junkies how long? You can't go all squirmy now." (Jim --> Shelby): You like red or white wine? "There are very precise rules for dealing with junkies and drunks that keep a person's heart from getting too wrapped up in what they are doing. I cannot treat Jim like one of those types." Melinda scrubs at her face again, looking up and watching Shelby work when she doesn't seem to notice. Her expression is searching, looking at the teen, examining her appearance, looking for signs that she is not doing as well as she claims. "Not really. You just gotta remember who's boss." Again the phone chimes. This time, when Shelby looks at it, whatever's written there gets a fist pump and a pleased, "Yessss!" Good news, apparently! She doesn't bother responding, just holds the phone out to Melinda to take over. "You just gotta let him know the wine, and if you want him to pick you up." Melinda takes the phone back and blinks at the screen, her eyes quickly darting back and forth as she reads the display. She coughs a little and clears her throat. She looks up at Shelby and considers. She texts back and stretches. "What are you going to do tonight?" Obviously, Mel has plans. (Melinda --> Jim): Tonight? Red. "I dunno," Shelby says with a shrug as she settles back in the chair. "Usually I'd go hang out at the Lofts but...y'know. Maybe see what the doc is up to, or hit Evolve or something." She cocks a finger at the phone and grins. "Tell me that wasn't amazing." "It was pretty smooth, indeed," Mel agrees, slipping the phone into her pocket. "Look, if you need a place to crash, you know you can crash with me, right. Probably not tonight, but..." She draws in a deep breath at the exception. "Maybe text later and see if I haven't fucked it up." "Nah, s'okay. Doc's keeping the couch open for me on weekends when I'm not at school. And how about you text /me/, and lemme know if it worked?" Shelby's grin ranges towards the smug end of the spectrum now. "If you can type, anyway." (Jim --> Melinda): I can be there in 40. "You do know you can't tease him about this too much. I really don't want him to get huffy." And then Melinda's back pocket chirps again. She frowns and fishes out the phone, brows rising. "Oh. Well. I'll let you know, but if I hear back from him about you - then you're out of the loop, permanently." She starts to text back. (Melinda --> Jim): My place then. 40 Minutes. (Jim --> Melinda): You're on. Shelby lifts a finger to sketch a cross over her mouth. "My lips are sealed. He'd beat my ass if he knew that was me on the other end, he's got this thing about me being a baby or some bullshit. I'm not sayin' a damn thing." "Well, he is old enough to be your dad, it kind of is the age range in which that is his prerogative." Melinda shrugs. "I have to go - make sure things are settled here and then head home. You... call me if you need anything. I know you're doing okay, Shelby, but if you ever feel like you're not, I'm around." And she starts to grab the chairs up and head back inside. "You know that, right?" "Age ain't nothin' but a number, baby." Shelby might be quoting from a rap song. There is a gangsta inflection at work there. She hops up out of the chair to gather her things. "I know, Mel. But this is kind've my good deed for fucking up open mic, huh? Now we're even." She flaps a hand at the older woman. "Go on, get yourself some nice deep dicking." "Okay. have a good night yourself." Mel gives a wave and then is on her way.