last section of Chapter 2 (finally)
Tattoo Priestess
Jennifer hated coffee houses, but a few days ago, she had made a luncheon date with Susan Ritter, one of her few female friends and couldn’t figure a way to get out of it. This was her first visit to Zapped. The aroma of sweet gourmet coffee thickly festered in the air. Jennifer wished she could smoke a cigarette, so the fumes of tobacco burning to ash could form a bubble around her head, protecting her from the caffeine infested environment. She mulled over the menu as Susan babbled on and on about her new house and her wonderful new neighbor, the infamous ex-congressman Redden, who made Jennifer’s skin crawl whenever he so much as glanced at her shadow.
According to the patrons, Zapped was appropriately named, due to the strength of the secretly formulated coffee beans, which embodies the essence of super hero volume caffeine. The atmosphere of the coffee house emitted a coziness that even Jennifer couldn’t deny. Burgundy walls held an array of neon lights, some shaped like steaming coffee mugs and some shaped like faces in various states of emotion with hair resembling the stream from the neon mugs. The wrought iron tables were black with glass tops, contrasting with white porcelain vases, each cradling a single daisy with its head bowing over with shyness.
But what really classified Zapped as a unique or off the wall place to hangout was the wait staff—all girls brandishing multitudes of tattoos all over their bodies. Zoë, the waitress who served Jennifer and Susan’s table looked like a big city alley plastered with graffiti spray painted with expertise by members of gangs, marking their territory. Her black hair was streaked blue around her face, a framework, which drew attention to the numerous piercing on her eyebrows, lips and ears.
She smiled tolerantly at Jennifer’s condemning stare. She was immune to disapproval. “Are you ladies ready to place your orders?” she asked, pen in poised over pad.
“Would you by chance serve hot tea?” Jennifer inquired.
“Sure, Toots.” Zoë studied her for a moment. “You look like a green tea lady sweetened with a dollop of honey and a twist of lemon on the side.”
Jennifer was visibly startled by Zoë’s accuracy. “You’re correct.”
“I think you’ll like our chicken salad,” Zoë said, efficiently ordering for Jennifer as if she could read her mind. She turned to Susan and said, “And you, Mrs. Ritter?”
Susan smiled and said, “You know me, Zoë. I come to a coffee house for one thing—the double chocolate latte. Hold the whipped cream. I’m on a diet. I’ll have the chicken salad, too.”
Once Zoë was out of hearing range, Susan said, “She’s psychic. I think all of the waitresses are. Something about tattoo ink opening a portal into another realm of consciousness. I read that somewhere.”
Jennifer bit back a guffaw. “If that’s true, then we won’t have to ask for refills.”
The rattle of cups on saucers announced Zoë’s quick return with their drink orders. “Green tea with honey and lemon for you. And a double chocolate latte minus the whipped cream for you.” After she set the cups and saucers on the table she asked with a smile, “Shouldn’t you ladies be celebrating with champagne? New homes should be honored or the house fairies won’t inhabit them.”
Susan gasped, “My husband and I just bought a new house. How did you know that?” Jennifer couldn’t say anything. How in the world did this woman know about her recent housing investment?
“Maybe a birdie told me, Mrs. Ritter. Your order will be up in a moment.” Zoë smiled and floated away, as if on air.
“I tell you, Jennifer that woman is psychic? This isn’t the first time she’s known things about me.” Susan exclaimed, as she attacked her latte.
“She could have ever heard you talking earlier. But that doesn’t explain how she knew about my recent investment. She did say homes. Plural.” Jennifer was taken aback by the woman’s statement.
“You bought a house?” She asked, staring over her glasses at Jennifer.
“Yes, I did. Closing the deal next week. Actually, it’s a townhouse at the Floral Clovers.”
“Wonderful. At my party Saturday, we’ll celebrate your new beginning, too. I read somewhere that it’s important to keep house fairies happy.”
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
Jennifer hated coffee houses, but a few days ago, she had made a luncheon date with Susan Ritter, one of her few female friends and couldn’t figure a way to get out of it. This was her first visit to Zapped. The aroma of sweet gourmet coffee thickly festered in the air. Jennifer wished she could smoke a cigarette, so the fumes of tobacco burning to ash could form a bubble around her head, protecting her from the caffeine infested environment. She mulled over the menu as Susan babbled on and on about her new house and her wonderful new neighbor, the infamous ex-congressman Redden, who made Jennifer’s skin crawl whenever he so much as glanced at her shadow.
According to the patrons, Zapped was appropriately named, due to the strength of the secretly formulated coffee beans, which embodies the essence of super hero volume caffeine. The atmosphere of the coffee house emitted a coziness that even Jennifer couldn’t deny. Burgundy walls held an array of neon lights, some shaped like steaming coffee mugs and some shaped like faces in various states of emotion with hair resembling the stream from the neon mugs. The wrought iron tables were black with glass tops, contrasting with white porcelain vases, each cradling a single daisy with its head bowing over with shyness.
But what really classified Zapped as a unique or off the wall place to hangout was the wait staff—all girls brandishing multitudes of tattoos all over their bodies. Zoë, the waitress who served Jennifer and Susan’s table looked like a big city alley plastered with graffiti spray painted with expertise by members of gangs, marking their territory. Her black hair was streaked blue around her face, a framework, which drew attention to the numerous piercing on her eyebrows, lips and ears.
She smiled tolerantly at Jennifer’s condemning stare. She was immune to disapproval. “Are you ladies ready to place your orders?” she asked, pen in poised over pad.
“Would you by chance serve hot tea?” Jennifer inquired.
“Sure, Toots.” Zoë studied her for a moment. “You look like a green tea lady sweetened with a dollop of honey and a twist of lemon on the side.”
Jennifer was visibly startled by Zoë’s accuracy. “You’re correct.”
“I think you’ll like our chicken salad,” Zoë said, efficiently ordering for Jennifer as if she could read her mind. She turned to Susan and said, “And you, Mrs. Ritter?”
Susan smiled and said, “You know me, Zoë. I come to a coffee house for one thing—the double chocolate latte. Hold the whipped cream. I’m on a diet. I’ll have the chicken salad, too.”
Once Zoë was out of hearing range, Susan said, “She’s psychic. I think all of the waitresses are. Something about tattoo ink opening a portal into another realm of consciousness. I read that somewhere.”
Jennifer bit back a guffaw. “If that’s true, then we won’t have to ask for refills.”
The rattle of cups on saucers announced Zoë’s quick return with their drink orders. “Green tea with honey and lemon for you. And a double chocolate latte minus the whipped cream for you.” After she set the cups and saucers on the table she asked with a smile, “Shouldn’t you ladies be celebrating with champagne? New homes should be honored or the house fairies won’t inhabit them.”
Susan gasped, “My husband and I just bought a new house. How did you know that?” Jennifer couldn’t say anything. How in the world did this woman know about her recent housing investment?
“Maybe a birdie told me, Mrs. Ritter. Your order will be up in a moment.” Zoë smiled and floated away, as if on air.
“I tell you, Jennifer that woman is psychic? This isn’t the first time she’s known things about me.” Susan exclaimed, as she attacked her latte.
“She could have ever heard you talking earlier. But that doesn’t explain how she knew about my recent investment. She did say homes. Plural.” Jennifer was taken aback by the woman’s statement.
“You bought a house?” She asked, staring over her glasses at Jennifer.
“Yes, I did. Closing the deal next week. Actually, it’s a townhouse at the Floral Clovers.”
“Wonderful. At my party Saturday, we’ll celebrate your new beginning, too. I read somewhere that it’s important to keep house fairies happy.”
```````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
dribbled by Sherrie @ 11/15/2005 02:56:00 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home