Little Fish Read online

  LITTLE FISH

  Written By

  KARI WARE

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and events in this book are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead are entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2013 NexGeneration Digital Publishing

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form without written permission.

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue: Reunited

  I.

  II.

  III.

  IV.

  V.

  VI.

  VII.

  VIII.

  IX.

  Epilogue: The Take Back

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Prologue: Reunited

  "So…Showponies? Really?"

  A chuckle on the other end of the phone. I scooted onto my kitchen counter, letting my feet dangle and my heels knock into the handles. He chuckled just like I remembered him sounding, sort of a low rumble that made him sound so much older than he was. His voice didn't match his body, not to me at least. Then again, he had changed since I last saw him.

  "Yeah," He said, sounding like he was prepared to make an excuse. "You know how it is, Win. Gotta do what you have to. Besides, it's fun."

  Long, burgundy-red curls fell along my shoulders as I felt myself tilt my head, the ends of my hair grazing my mid-back. He called me Win, even still. I hadn't seen him in nearly four years and he still called me Win. "I can't seriously call you Winifred," He had said when we first met. "You're not an old broad with sixty cats. It's just weird." I smiled at the memory. I missed his company.

  "Yeah, I love to take my clothes off for strangers. It's totally a hobby of mine, too." I replied, hearing a small laugh in my own voice. I would definitely have to call my mother after this; I lived in Los Angeles for only a month and guess who I've already ran into? Calder Vidalia. And at a sleazy male strip club, no less.

  His reply: "It's not a hobby, it's a lifestyle." He seemed utterly serious in contrast to my joking tone. Perhaps it was time for a change of subject.

  "I'm waitressing at this bistro called Agacelli's. You should come get some coffee and we can visit."

  "For sure. How's tomorrow?"

  If I had known then what I would come to learn a few months later, about Calder and Alex and everyone that would come into my life that following day, I would've never have gone into work the next day

  I.

  After we had gotten off the phone, I spent the entire night thinking about how our conversation the next day would play out. Obviously, I would explain myself as to why I was even at the strip club to begin with and how it was all Anna's fault; That she had come across the hallway to my apartment piss drunk and needed a ride to meet up with her cousin's bachelorette party, and that I, unable to say no to my disheveled neighbor, had brought her to Showponies. I hadn't been there before; Hell, I'd never even heard of it before, but the memory of the illuminated pink sign with a riding crop for an 'I' was enough to make my nose wrinkle. I never would have imagined walking in and seeing Calder on stage, stripped down to a G-string with gun holsters at his sides and wearing the broadest grin I'd ever seen him wear. It was truly surreal. And awkward.

  I dressed for work the next morning: A plain white t-shirt and faded denim shorts, cutting the worn strings off that dangled along my thighs. I threw my overbearing curls into a high ponytail and ran my kohl-colored eyeliner pencil over my eyelids quickly, then blinked on a fair amount of mascara. Feeling I looked at least somewhat decent after completely oversleeping my alarm, I threw on my pink Nike's and hurried out the door, and it wasn't until I was almost completely down the street to the front door of Agacelli's that I realized I'd left my phone and purse sitting on the couch in my apartment. I realized quickly it would be one of those days.

  Calder was already sitting at the booth by the window, luckily in my section. I smiled at him, and he gave me a small wave. He looked almost as unkempt as I felt: His black hair looked mussed and almost dirty, and he wore a very casual plaid button down that could almost pass for a pajama shirt. There was a five o'clock shadow on his face, which I'd never seen him sport before. I grabbed my apron out of the drawer behind the counter tied it around my waist as I walked towards him.

  "Hey. Morning. Coffee?" I asked quickly, realizing after it left my lips how anxious I actually sounded, and Calder smiled at me. He leaned back against his booth seat, mussing his hair even more as he rested his elbow causally on the booth top.

  "Sure. Remember how I like it?"

  Two sugars and a cream. Of course I remembered. When you live with someone for three years, you tend to remember their habits. I grinned at him, turning on my heel and walking over to the coffee pot. After flipping the switch I spun around and looked out at the tables. We were relatively busy since it was Saturday morning, and almost all the other tables were full. Leila was the only other waitress working with me, her blonde ponytail flouncing carelessly as she bounded from table to table. Her cheeks were flushed; she was new and this was her first Saturday working. I remembered when I was like her.

  Once the pot was full, I grabbed a coffee mug and dumped in two packets of sugar and filled it to the brim. I filled it maybe a little too much, a few burning drops sloshing over and dripping on my hand. I clenched my teeth a little, setting it down in front of him and wiping my hand off. Calder glanced at it warily, and then looked back up at me with smiling brown eyes. "So I heard they got divorced."

  I knew that was coming. I sighed, nodding my head gently. "Yeah, it was finalized about three months ago. Your dad actually gave me the money for my first and last month's rent here."

  With that Calder chuckled, almost despite himself. "Anything to screw with Pauline, right?" He looked down into his mug and took a long, slow sip. I watched him silently. It was true: My mother was definitely not happy that her now ex-husband had opened the doorway for me to finally get out of her house. But I was twenty, no longer in the mood to stay at home and watch her drink away her third divorce. Dan Vidalia had been more of a dad to me than any of the others my mom had ever brought around, even if he really hadn't been to Calder. But in all truth, a lot of it had been Calder's own fault. Still, he seemed like he almost resented talking about our parents.

  "Divorce brings out the worst, y'know. I'll be right back." I waited silently, awkwardly, for him to dismiss me in some way, but he remained quiet. Gracelessly, I walked towards my next table to take the order of the elderly couple that had been sitting for nearly ten minutes waiting. From the corner of my eye I saw Leila rush by.

  "Can you get table twelve, Winnie?"

  "Not my section, Leila. I'm table ten down."

  She scoffed in irritation, so I ignored her as I scribbled down the breakfast orders being quickly prattled off to me. Calder was still sitting in front of his coffee, unmoving and silent as I rushed past him a couple more times. It wasn't until I spilled coffee all over an important-looking business man wearing a tie that looked about as expensive as my entire apartment that I couldn't help but notice him smirk at me from three booths down.

  "Oh, God, I'm so sorry! I can't believe-" But I really couldn't finish the sentence, because honestly, I could completely believe that I had just done that. He looked furious, but he was silent as he jumped out of his seat and looked down at the stain on his dark blue suit pants.

  "It's… alright." He finally stated, storming off towards the bathroom. My face was hot with embarrassment, and I put my palm to my head as Leila, almost on cue, brought out the mop for me. I think it made her feel less stupid to see me c
ompletely screw up. With a sigh I started mopping up my spill, and Calder came over and leaned across the back of the booth before me.

  "So…can I still play the big brother card or what? I don't really know how this works."

  I glanced at him through my eyelashes as I mopped. "Depends on what it is. I'm not doing your homework for you."

  "Ha." He replied, more of a word than a laugh. "Well actually, I have this party to go to this weekend. My boss's big four-oh. And since my girlfriend and I broke up a little bit ago, I need a date." He grinned wide, his perfectly aligned teeth staring me in the face. I sighed; it was like high school all over again.

  "Let me do some recon and I'll call you tonight, okay?"

  Calder brushed his hair back out of his face with his fingers. "I knew I missed you for a reason, Win. Cash is on the table. I'm glad to see your coffee-making skills have improved." He patted my shoulder as he walked past me, and I heard the bell on the door ring behind him as he left. Good to know you haven't changed a bit since we were teenagers, I thought to myself as I carried the mop and bucket back through the kitchen. I pinched the brim of my nose and leaned against the wall for a moment. I was ready for the day to be done.

  The man I spilled coffee on had obviously left while I was in back, but as I walked past the table I could help but notice the stack of crisp, green bills sitting on top of a napkin. I could clearly see four fifties, and I leaned over to nudge them aside as I looked at the note.

  Next time I would prefer to not be assaulted with hot coffee.

  II.

  The next morning, I didn't go into work until eleven. I decided I'd let Calder treat me to coffee, since I was going to set him up with my neighbor Anna as a date for his stupid party. I wasn't bitter that he hadn't invited me, but I was a little miffed that at how juvenile he could make me feel. Like I was still his little sister whose life he'd make miserable if I couldn't find him a warm body to press up against for an hour or so. Which was hardly the case: I was the one that had let Calder into my life. It wasn't like I owed him anything. Still, it somewhat bothered me that I had so quickly fallen into this old routine. Some independent adult I was.

  I waited in my living room, lazily hanging my legs over the arm of the couch as I stared at the clock on my cellphone. 10:36, it read, and I couldn't help but sigh. How typical. He wasn't going to be here in time. I locked my phone and laid it on my stomach, rubbing my temples rather aggressively. I had really been looking forward to my caffeine fix. There was a gentle rapping at my door, and I stood while tucking my phone into my back pocket. On the other end of the door was Calder, holding a Styrofoam cup and wearing a guilty grin as he held the cup out to me. "Sorry, overslept."

  I sighed, taking the cup from him. It was lukewarm, so I set it on the side table next to my doorway. "Yeah, no shit." I muttered, turning back to him with my hands on my hips. He was wearing a pair of black jeans with another button down plaid shirt, this time green. His normally unkempt hair was slicked back rather nicely, and I couldn't help but decided that that was why he was late. “Well, I've gotta go to work now. Anna's door is two down, she's probably home."

  "Awesome. Thanks, Win. I owe you one."

  "I'll put it on your tab." I grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder, locking my door and shutting it behind me. "See ya later." I patted Calder on the back gently as I walked past him, and he walked towards the direction of Anna's door.

  "Hope you have some more generous mystery tippers today," He called back to me, and I couldn't help but smile to myself. The two hundred dollar tip was sitting safely in my wallet for next time I went grocery shopping. As a waitress you hear about these freak occurrences of incredible tips, but I had never experienced it before myself. Victoria, the waitress at Agacelli's that had trained me when I first started, told me about receiving a $50 tip for a cup of coffee from an elderly gentleman one afternoon, but getting such a large tip for a spilled cup of coffee was unheard of. Honestly I wanted him to come back, so I could thank him and maybe understand his generosity. It was beyond strange to me.

  The bell dinged as I walked into work, and I eyed my section curiously. The rest of the booths were completely full, but my section was empty except for one booth in the back, table ten. There he sat, my mystery tipper from the day before.

  I put on my apron as I set my things in the back, and walked over to my back booth. Now I really looked at him. I only recognized him from his posture and his hair. Short, yet soft looking blondish-brown hair, almost sandy in color, sitting atop a very handsome head with a sharp jawline and a clean shaven face. His lips were thin and smirking as I approached, and his blue-green eyes swallowed me up inside their depths. He sat up straight, his broad shoulders and chest accented by a well fitted black suit jacket. There was a dimple in his right cheek, which came to look more like a scar the closer I got. He had to be at least ten years older than me. I stopped beside him, one had on my hip. "I really hope you didn't inform everyone sitting around you that I was a horrible waitress." I gestured to the empty booths.

  "No," he replied with a smile, his voice smooth and handsome, "I rented your section. Table ten down, right?"

  My jaw nearly dropped, and unconsciously I felt my heartbeat quicken. He repeated my words from the day before back to me in an almost arrogant way, like I was meant to be impressed by the attention he paid to me. Which, obviously I was. My flushed cheeks were obviously enough to satisfy him. "Can I get another coffee, perhaps in a cup and not my lap today?"

  "Um...yeah." I awkwardly walked away, his clear pleasure with my discomfort somewhat unnerving. Leila rushed past me with a tray in her hands, giving me a nasty scowl as I almost walked right into her while I was lost in my own thoughts. What was Not-So-Mystery Tipper playing at? There are less severe ways of flirting with someone. Maybe he was some wealthy self-made billionaire that liked to murder waitresses in his Bat cave beneath his mansion.

  I carefully walked his cup of coffee over to him, setting it down in front of him as he smirked satisfactorily. "So," I began, "Do you have a name so I can stop calling you Mystery Tipper in my head?" He sipped his coffee with an actual smile.

  "Alex," He said simply. "And no, I don't do this often."

  "Well then I guess I can rule out the serial waitress murderer M.O. as a reason for all this," I replied somewhat jokingly, tucking my ticket pad into my apron pocket. Alex chuckled, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly in his thick neck. He leaned back against the seat, adjusting his dark red tie.

  "Nah, I got that all out of my system years ago." He glanced at me. "Kidding, of course." He added that I'm sure because he saw the unintentional quirk in my eyebrow. "No, actually I just wanted to get to know you a little bit."

  Ah, lame attempt at flirting. "You know, you could've just asked for my number or something, right?"

  "Now which guy are you more likely to want to get to know: The guy who asks for your number, or the guy who rents a section of a restaurant to talk to you? Besides, I don't half-ass things." Alex looked up at me expectantly. I couldn't hold back a smile, as much as I tried. I didn't want to feel flattered, get all giddy over some guy like some stupid girl in a thoughtless romantic comedy, but I couldn't help it.

  I raised my hands in defeat. "Alright, you've got me there. You have my full attention."

  "So your name is...?" He asked, glancing at me as he sipped his coffee. I leaned up against the side of the booth across the table from him.

  "Winnie." I hated my name. Winifred was worse, obviously, but Winnie was something most people equated with 'the Pooh'. There wasn't anything to be done about it. I still maintain that my mother must've been drunk when she gave birth to me. But Alex simply nodded and made no comments about it, which was somewhat refreshing.

  "Well, Winnie, are you busy Thursday?"

  "Um..." I mentally pictured my calendar. "I work 'til three."

  He nodded, finishing his coffee with one large sip. "I'll pick you up."

  I was a little take
n aback by his forwardness, but what could I say? I was intrigued, for sure. "And where will you be taking me?"

  "I promise it won't be to an abandoned warehouse to murder you."

  I considered it. "Fair enough. See you Thursday."

  III.

  "Please tell me you'll at least call Calder and let him know when you're in this guy's car. Please."

  I rolled my eyes as I walked down the hallway steps towards my mailbox. Some part of me told me not to say a word to my mother about Alex, his incredible face and his strange courting methods. What a hypocrite she could be; My mother had spent many a night leaving the bar in some stranger's car after divorce number two, and she never let me know where she was until the next day when she miraculously reappeared. I dug for my mailbox key in my pocket. "Yes, Mother, I will."

  "How exactly does he feel about this?" My mother pressed on. I opened the mailbox with the painted on letters 201 on it, dipping down to see a measly two envelopes and a jewelry store flyer. I scooped them up and tucked them under my arm.

  "He thinks its fine, Mom." I lied. Calder absolutely did not think it was fine. I was honestly somewhat surprised at his concern, given his careless lifestyle. He had made me pinky promise him that I would text him the entire night, and call him as often as possible. How lame. So some slightly eccentric guy wants a date... why was everyone panicking? He didn't scream serial murderer to me. He just seemed like an eccentric, wealthy man. The kind of person you're supposed to me when you move to Los Angeles from a tiny, pinprick-sized town in Washington.

  "Well you should give me his number, honey. I'd like to chat with him anyways. I bet it would just kill Daniel to know he's a stripper." My mother said more to herself than me. I reached my front door and nudged it open with my hip after twisting the knob. I sighed, tossing my mail on the end table. I really wasn't in the mood to listen to her badmouth Calder's dad again.