Whispering Wishes (7 page)

I’m on a roll now, I see Dave appear next to me
. “Aspen, you should calm down.”

“Sorry, I can’t.
But Dave, I have nothing but love for you. Thanks for being great to work with. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll call you later,” he whispers.

I walk back out the door to the teller room, and into the main lobby and see everyone still standing there, not knowing quite what to do. Fortunately, there aren’t any clients in here. I’m not sure how they got that lucky. But then, the doors to the bank swing open and Carmen the human resource representative walks into the office. She sees everyone standing there and comes to a stop. Of course, I open my mouth yet again. I’m on a roll.

 
“Oh, HI CARMEN!” I yell. “I hear you are here to conduct my exit interview. Well here are some final words for you… actually wait,” I put my fingers to my temples and squint like I’m thinking really hard, “maybe Steve can PENETRATE my brain and tell us all what I’m thinking.” I give him a moment and he just stares at me like he just doesn’t have a clue what to do. “No? Can’t do it? Well here you go, my final words are FUCK YOU!”

I start to walk out and catch sight of Meg
. “Oh hey Meg, I will talk to you later about that date, okay?”

Poor Meg just nods her head but I see the slight curve of her lips in the corners and the humor in her eyes.
“Okay, sounds like a plan,” she says quietly.

“Oh and by the way Francisco, the coffee you make in the morning tastes like ass.
Whoever gets to it first, dumps out the pot you make, and makes a new one. No one has the guts to tell you. Esther – Nick over there is just waiting for you to drop dead or retire soon so he can finally step into your position. Heather, everyone knows that time you were gone for a week was because you got a nose and lip job. I believe there are before and after pictures circulating on email around here somewhere.

“Anyway, best of luck to all of you.
You’re going to need it with such supreme assholes as your leaders!” I give them all double middle fingers and take a bow. “Peace out motherfuckers!” With my head held high, I walk out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

Somehow, I find
myself at D’Vine after that epic walk out. I first stopped at a gas station, filled up my almost empty tank, and decided to grab a newspaper. Trolling the want ads to look for a new job seemed like a good idea. I can’t afford to go too long without one.

I vacillate between feeling proud, smug
, and wondering what the F...I just did. During the entire momentary insanity explosion thing at the bank, somewhere in the back of my mind I kept remembering that worst case scenario, I did have a job to turn to. All I need to do is say the word and working for Mischa will be a go. I'm sure that fact played into my finding the confidence to completely lose my shit when I was going off at the bank.

My concern is that even though Mischa and I adore one another, and she is very accepting of me and my many, many shortcomings and faults, what if I do something that messes things up for her?
What if I sell something I shouldn’t, or make a mistake that can’t be fixed? Or roll my eyes at someone? I would feel horrible. So while I know she'll help me if I ask, if I jeopardize our friendship for a job...well, that is not a risk I am willing to take. I don’t know what I would do without Mischa’s friendship.

So, I settle snugly in a comfortable sitting position and the reality of what just happened – of what I just did - starts sinking in.
The scene at the bank clearly plays out in my mind -but like a slow motion horror movie. I’ve given the staff fodder for months to come. My breathing starts to come in short bursts. My pulse is quickening. The air suddenly seems a bit thinner. A panic attack begins to seize me and I feel a bit like I am having an out of body experience. Do I need to find a paper bag...to breathe into...or to throw up in? Is it any surprise? I can’t believe I just quit my job, screamed obscenities, said all of those mean things, and hurled slander everywhere. Ok. I was going to be fired, so I guess I didn't really quit. And even though I could tell that Lisa wanted to back pedal and try to make it right when I told her what really happened the day I was late, it was already over in my mind. I just couldn't let her do that. At that point, I was past hearing, or even caring. I saw the place and all of the people like they really are. And I had had enough.

Oh God.
I just quit my job!
Breathe deep, Aspen. Breathe deep. It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.

Some of the things I said keep replaying in my mind and cause me to flinch.
I can’t believe I yelled all of those horrible things to everyone and walked out. Esther, Nick, Chuck, and Francisco… oh my god… none of them deserved that! What have I done?

Reaching into my purse
, I grab my phone to call Mischa. An epic break down is on the horizon and I am going to need my best friend and chocolate; likely in mass quantities. Before I can dial her number, I’m distracted by a body sliding into the booth across from me. For a moment I’m almost afraid to look up, afraid someone from work followed me here. After a second, I raise my head to find Wes smiling at me.

“Hey.
Don’t you have a job or something? What are you doing here? I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you, I’m just curious.” He’s smiling at me, expectantly awaiting my answer and he’s got his elbows on the table. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and he’s leaning toward me. The muscles in his forearms are flexed from his position, and his tattoos are mesmerizing. I see maybe a bird, some tribal curves and a banner with script I can’t make out. His eyes are shining and his Mohawk brings out the features of his face. Square jaw, high cheekbones – he’s the epitome of a bad boy. I bet he has a motorcycle.

“Funny you should say that.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Which part?”

“About the job.”

“Oh? Why’s that?”

“Because I was just fired today,” I confess with a sigh.
I should probably be embarrassed confessing to someone I barely know that I was fired, but strangely I’m not. I feel comfortable talking to him.

“Shit!
I’m so sorry. Me and my big mouth. Are you okay?”

“It’s okay.
How could you possibly know?”

“But still… are you okay?” he repeats.

“I’m not really sure to be honest with you. I am telling myself I am, but the truth?” He nods. “I feel a little lost.”

He slides out of the booth and disappears without a word.
Geesh, was it something I said? He steps behind the bar and grabs a glass. He pours something into it and walks back to my table carrying it with him. “I know it’s early, but here,” he sits the glass on the table in front of me. “I figure you could use this.”

I don’t even ask what it is or think twice about it.
Lifting the glass to my lips, I just swallow it all in one gulp. It burns as it slides down my throat, making me cough a little. “What was that?”

“Whiskey.”

“Ah. Nice.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”
He looks concerned. Like he’s waiting for me to break down and cry on his shoulder or ask for a tissue or something.

“You know how my car broke down?”

“Yeah,” his brows furrow, making me want to smile. He’s cute when he makes that face.

“Well long story short, I was late to work the next day because I had to take the bus and my boss assumed I was acting out because of the promotion I didn’t receive the day before.
She sent me home without letting me explain.”

“Sent you home?
She can do that? What was her reasoning?”

“To deal with the fact I didn’t get the promotion she said.
But the truth is, she dropped a bomb on me that day that I didn’t handle well. Even though they decided I wasn't good enough to get the job, they wanted me to train the girl they
did
hire. And she was so...well...let's just say that was a HUGE ask.”

“
That’s harsh.”

“Yeah.
So I pretty much left yesterday without a word, determined there was no value in trying to argue with her. Then, just my luck this morning, I woke up late. I guess I forgot to set my alarm. When I walked in late again, I was fired.”

“Did you have to take the bus again?
I thought you mentioned you were getting a rental.”

“Yes, I did.
So no bus again thank goodness.”

“That’s good at least.
But I am so sorry about your job. Did you try to explain? Tell them that they were wrong with their assumptions?”

“Oh, I more than told them.”

“Okay…” he laughs softly and it feels just for me – intimate. “Do I want to know what that means?”

“Let’s just say, I didn’t go quietly.
I told off my bosses - loudly. And spilled a lot of office secrets as I left.”

He raises one eyebrow in question.
Cool. I wish I could do that. “Office secrets?”

“Oh you know, just making office gossip public.
And sparing hardly anyone since there was plenty to go around.” I put my head in my hands as he laughs at me. “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

“Man, I wonder if anyone thought to take out their camera phone because I would pay money to see that,” he teases.

“Ha. Very funny,” and then, “OH GOD! I hope no one did that! That would be so humiliating and with my luck it would go viral on YouTube or something.”

Wes laughs even harder and I really like the sound of it.
He should laugh more often, well except when it’s at me. He gestures at the newspaper, “So I guess this is you searching for a new job?”

“Yes.
I think it would be smart to start looking. Paper first. Then Job Builder, Career Ladder and Job Me, and others to follow if needed. See, I have a plan.”

“Do you have any idea of what you want to do?
Something specific you’re looking for?”

“I have no freaking idea.
My best friend, Mischa, you met her…”

“Yeah, your girlfriend, right?”

“Well yeah. I mean… she’s a girl and she’s my friend...” Wes looks at me in confusion for a minute prompting me to ask. “What?”

“You mean she isn’t your
girlfriend
, girlfriend?”

“What?
No! We aren’t in a relationship, and I’m not a lesbian. Mischa is my best friend.”

“Oh,” he states
, sounding surprised.

“Oh?
All you have to say is, oh? What made you think we are in a relationship?”

“I don’t know.
I mean, when she arrived at your house that time I stopped by, she called you babe and gave you a hug.”

“And that automatically screams lesbian lovers to you?”

“No. Yes. I mean, no. It was just a feeling I had. I’m sorry. I was wrong, I guess.”

“Yes, you were definitely that.
Mischa is like my sister.”

“Oh.
Well. Good to know.”

“Wow, that’s funny.
No one has ever thought we were in a relationship before. I can’t wait to tell her about that. She’ll get a good laugh out of it.”

He gives me a sexy smirk
. “Glad I can amuse you both. My work here is done.”

His sarcasm isn’t lost on me, but I choose to ignore it
. “So do you happen to know anyone that’s hiring? For anything? Anything at all?”

“Let me talk to the owner, he was talking about taking on a few more girls because business has been so great.
I can also put some feelers out there, ask around, see what I can find.”

I smile
. “That would be really great, thank you.”

“Sure.
Is there anything in particular you’re looking for? I don’t even know what it was you were fired from.”

“Oh.
Well I was a banker at Franklin Bank and Trust for the last few years. I can’t help but feel a little lost. It scares me to think about how I’m going to feel when this really sinks in. I mean, I liked my job okay, but was it something I was passionate about? No, not really. But still, it was comfortable and brought in a steady paycheck.”

“I get that.”

“You do?”

“Sure.
I don’t want to be a waiter for the rest of my life.”

“No?”

“Not at all.
I’m hoping to open my own bar soon. D’Vine is owned by a friend of mine, Rico, and he’s teaching me the business so that when I’m ready, I can open my own place.”

I’m impressed
. “That’s really cool. Have you always wanted to have your own bar? And is that what you want? A bar? A restaurant slash bar?”

“A bar that serves drinks and appetizer food like fries and wings - that kind of thing.
I like the idea of having a place where people can come together. Whether it’s the go to place that people meet for happy hour, or the place everyone wants to go to celebrate their birthday. I like the idea of having a place that becomes an integral part of people’s lives. A place they think of as their place.”

He’s clearly so passionate when he talks about his dream.
His face and eyes light up and he’s gesturing a lot with his hands - more than usual. There is excitement and sincerity in his words, and it's easy to be drawn into his enthusiasm. Having his own business is something that’s really important to him.

“Well, I hope you get exactly what you want.”

He stares at me for a minute. “Yeah me, too.” Then he gestures to the paper in front of me. “And, I hope you do too, Aspen.”

I smile sincerely at his words
. “Thank you.”

We just stare at each other for a minute and only break away when someone yells, “Hey Wes, I could use your help back here.”

I look over to the man speaking behind the bar and see that he needs to lift what looks like several kegs. Wes, who has also turned to the bar calls out, “You got it!” then turns back to me. “Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, okay.
And thanks.”

“Thanks?
For what?”

“For the drink,” I point to the glass in front of me, and he picks it up to bring back to the bar.

“No problem. Do you want another?”