Spices (FIRST DRAFT) ~ An Alejandro and Alfred Story

𝓣𝔀𝓸

Things started looking up. Yesterday, I was furious after getting rejected, but today, I have to remind myself of public etiquette and not prance around like a sissy.

The confirmation came in half an hour ago. All my car prices have increased by 30% and I was on the road to success.

I was in my own world as I half skipped down the street, only to stop before a familiar establishment. Casa Vallarta.

Wouldn't hurt to have a drink as a celebration. Besides, this immigrant hub is the only place I know in Louisiana.

I walked in, and the place was crowded, people sitting at the bar and families eating at the booths. Do people really like eating this food anyway? I sit down at the bar next to a group of drunk men.

A bartender with almost white blonde hair and icy blue eyes approaches me, "What would you like, sir?" I scan over the man. I wonder where Alejandro is?

Doesn't matter. "Get me a shot of something. Something for a good mood." The man nods and picks up a bottle to his right.

Just as his fingers wrap around the neck of the bottle, a deep voice says, "Go on a break, Will, I'll take it from here."

The man, confused, puts the bottle down and leaves. Alejandro takes his spot.

He calmly makes me an old fashioned and slides it to me. Placing his elbow down on the table, leaning over, he says, "Don't terrorise my workers, will ya?"

I down the shot quickly and point the empty glass at him. "I thought we agreed to forget what happened yesterday. If we all focus on the past, we will never move toward the future." With that, feeling confident in myself, I place the glass in front of him. "Another," I order.

He picks up my glass, eyes resting off to the side. He seems deep in thought, his dark eyes shining. I see something miserable behind them.

Pouring me a second, he mutters, "drinking isn't good for you, y'know?" He places the shot in front of me. "It's not a good habit."

I scoff, drinking down the shot. He watches as I do so, cleaning out cups. Putting the cup down, I look up at him. "What's up your ass?"

"Pardon?"

"You seem so gloomy today. Well, and yesterday. You always like this?"

He shrugs, averting his gaze, followed by inaudible mumbling.

An uncomfortable silence falls over us. Despite the noisy people and the clanking of plates surrounding us, the silence between us was awkward.

I must have touched a nerve because this point, he was completely ignoring me. I tried to find his gaze whenever he would walk by, but he just served the people next to me, not even glancing at me for a second.

Finally, I ordered a third shot, and when he gave it to me, I slid it back to him. He stared down at me, arching an eyebrow.

I gesture to him. "For you, my friend," I say. "You've been working all day. Relax, have a drink."

He shakes his head once and hands it back to me, saying, "I already drank with you yesterday."

Turning the glass in my hand, watching the brown liquid touch the edges of the glass, I sigh dramatically. "You aren't seriously making me drink on my own, are you? Not when I'm trying to celebrate," I basically whined.

He rolls his dark, mysterious eyes and runs a hand through his curls. His silky curls. What am I talking about? He leans forward on his elbows, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"Fine," he says. "What's got you in such a happy celebratory mood then, friend?"

I notice how close he is to me, and I inspect his face. For the first time, I actually give a close look.