Clarissa Lincoln is a martini glass half full type. Heck, even when she slurps the last bits of icy vodka from the glass, she'll tell you it's plumb full!
Until a disaster of a night on New Year's Eve sends the daydreaming, serial dater spiraling as...
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"Would you like another glass of champagne, Rissa?"
"Thanks, but I better wait. I haven't eaten yet," I say, turning my head to look at her. "I assume that's where I'm going next?"
"I know nothing," she says with a coy smile. "Now turn back around. We have to finish your hair so you're ready on time."
"Then you know something," I say with a scowl as I turn around to let her finish. She hung a towel over the mirror, so I can't see what she's doing.
This is all part of my date tonight. Conner says it's not just me making it up to myself with the last date. I'm also a week into dating myself now. He feels a week is a good time to wow your date a little with a, sweep them off their feet, night.
It started during work, when I was delivered lunch from my favorite sandwich shop with a note instructing me that Ed would pick me up and bring me to a salon after work.
When I headed in and gave them my name, they whisked me into the back area, where they do hair and makeup for weddings and other events. So here I am, getting an updo I can't see without a clue where I'm going next.
I slipped out of work today when Diane was away from her desk. I didn't want to get stuck late again and miss this date. I'm hoping it screwed up her Friday night plans.
I can't get Derek's job offer out of my head. I keep seeing it. Me, behind the bar throwing shaker glasses around like a trapeze artist as the crowd oohs and awes. Meanwhile, I'd be charming and witty as I offer the lovelorn patrons advice. They'd all be murmuring on the way out about the fabulous bartender, and I'd pretend I didn't hear, of course. Got to stay modest.
It seemed so crazy when he mentioned it and now it's all I can think about. I don't want to mention it to Mel or Candice just yet. I want to make the decision without them persuading me. Mel especially has been trying to get me to leave the call center forever.
I wish I could talk to Conner, but that's the other problem.
I'm committed to this dating project. How would it work if I started working nights at a bar?
"Did you hear me, Rissa?" Sarah, the stylist, asks, and I shake the thoughts from my brain as I look up at her.
"Uh, sorry, no," I mutter.
She giggles. "I'd be off in la la land, too, if someone planned all this for me."
"Oh! Uh yeah," I answer awkwardly. I can't exactly explain that it wasn't done to impress me. Well, I guess it was, but not how she thinks.
"I said your hair and makeup are all done. Are you ready for the dress?"
"Dress?" I look up with confusion as she motions for me to follow her. I quickly get up and hurry behind her towards a large dressing room.
