Rye in Magenta

CHAPTER 1 : THE DAY

“The moon really is beautiful, isn’t it?”
I told myself as I gazed upward towards the flawless night sky, peppered with golden specks of divine dust, looking almost surreal in contrast to the flashy lights that dazzled through the aisles of the busy stores and the never ending mayhem of traffic on the early night streets of Manhattan.

“Not the right time for deep thoughts now, Rye. Got to get back to work.” I said to myself as I picked myself of the bench and adjusted my tie.
A warm breeze swept across the street, rustling the leaves of the    
Décor plants lining the side-rows of an exquisite emporium. I pulled my gaze across its exterior, my eyes yet again caught on to the ever extravagant signboard. “Regalia…”, I said with a sigh. “My only source of income and excitement within this whole wide world.”

I sighed and made my way into my establishment.
I walked into a whole different atmosphere.
Wine glasses and Beer Mugs clanked as waiters rushed refills to various blustering customers, in various levels of inebriation, desperate to drink away their tribulations. Hearty laughter rang throughout, giving off an air of nonchalant melancholy.
I made my way towards the countertop, readjusting my jacket as I moved in.

“Took you quite a while, young man.”
With a sigh, I turned around, putting on an expression of utmost sobriety.
“Wasn’t intentional sir, just wanted to take in a good chunk on that calming Eve air before our busy hours.” I replied, as my manager, Hopkins, looked down at me.
He was quite a figure, 6ft of height and a long and luscious black Mane, which made a thorough chick magnet. He was a bit strict though, but was of a kind heart. He would recommend me for a pay raise, whenever he had the chance to.
“Make sure you don’t repeat it, Rye ay? You are a good ol mate for me in here. Don’t want you to lose your job here for sure. That’s for sure.”
“Sure up, Sire.”
I made my way into my usual position behind the wine glasses, surveying the mayhem and occasionally pouring the typical drunkard refills. The occasional magnate seldom arrived, where I attempted to pour them a potential breakthrough concoction, hopefully sweeping them right off their feet and give me a job that requires little no physical effort whatsoever.
The wind bells chimed, the door swung open and an epitome of feminine perfection made here appearance at the doorstep. She made even the mighty Regalia look Humble. She was perfect, in almost every way I could imagine.
She strode majestically across the matted flooring, her pose imperious and looks purely awe-inspiring. She moved with the grace of a princess, elegance flashing throughout her every motion. Again, I could never take my eyes off her, even if I tried.
She was a regular customer, trust me on that one. But, she just was too hard to ignore. Even my non-existent organs, began throbbing at her arrival.
With a dazzling spin, she dropped off her bag and looked at me in the eye.
I promptly broke off from my trance, and made my way to the shelves. She waited for me, impatiently tapping away on the countertop.
Margarita was her favorite. Since the day I met her, she always called in the same order. The divine concoction of Tequila, Triple sec and lime juice, almost always set our taste buds on a riverie.
I promptly mixed the drink and poured it out. I looked across at her, hoping to meet her gaze.
She wasn’t there.
“Heyo, Love. Took you long enough. Let me take it off from here.” There she was, right in front of me.
Her usual. It was an unspoken connection, it just existed from the first day she walked in that doorway. I didn’t know her name, nor her work nor her character, but I felt a pure connection between the two of us, unspoken but divine.
With a sly wink, she lifted the glass towards her. Her dazzling golden eyes, with the fragrant strands of her crimson hair dangling carelessly across her pearly white skin, pulled me back to that reminiscent memory. To be exact, the day we met for the first time.
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