The Bag In Pink(Vol. 1 of The Color Series)

Chapter One

This book is of my work! I don't want to scare you off, but you can't steel my fucking story, got it! And YOU fans see ANYBODY with this, tell me! I'm not going to have a cheap-ass writer, who can't think of their own ideas to steel my shit! And if you do, I promise you, I will find a way to get you back. Your god damn right! Don't doubt my ability's. K? I've had this happen before. Obviously, you need a life if all you do is copy story's of authors who work hard. Thank you, now! Read you wonderful readers!!!!

(Warning: Sexual Content)

The Bag In Pink: Chapter One

The muggy café encased my lungs as I walked through it, tryin' to keep hold of my customer on the phone.

        "So, the travel bags are in pink, how many do you want of them, again?" I asked, trying to wave some cigarette smoke from my face, flicking a blonde curl away. Men's eye's traveled to me, grumbling vulgar remarks. I rolled my blue eyes, and kept walking to the front counter, with these high pink heels, clashing with the rickety old floor.

        "I said three, me and my husband! He always gripes about how I carry too much stuff! Oh, but he's wonderful!" she laughed, with an annoying high pitch voice.

        "Ha, ha! Oh, yes, I do know what they are like!" 'Cause I've divorced four times.

       "Yes, yes! I know! But you got to love them!"

I sighed, annoyed. The guy across the counter smirked at me. Oh, fuck, look at him! Oh, I'd love to wake up beside that god damn pair of hazel eye's, and heavy set frame. He slid a shot my way, I nearly in hailed it. The strong alcohol warmed my face, and throat.

The woman continued on about her love life, and their bickering. I zoned out.

        "Ma'am, we have other callers. Address please? So I can place your order."

She gave me the address, I flipped out my notepad, jotting down the damn thing, along with her card number. I ended the call, falling into the chair. He provided another shot. And just as quick as the first, it was gone.

       "Rough day?" he said.

        "Yes, very. I'm a sails woman for Elizabeth Cline. She is now selling Pink travel bags. I hate my job."

        "Ha, that is why I became a bar tender." He nodded.

        "We should trade lives," I laughed. "You will hate, Elizabeth! She's a bitch!"

        "All stylist are, honey." He chuckled.

       "Cynthia Jones Martinez." I held out my hand. He took it, in a quick shake.

        "William Ermin Allen." He started laughing again.

        "What?" I screeched.

        "Is it really necessary to get your nails done?"

       "Is it really necessary for you to ask?" I cocked to the left. 

        "Okay, feisty. I like it."

       "Fuck off." I took a swig of the new shot I got.

        "Okay, that was unnecessary."

I leaned forward, keeping my voice on the down low. "All right, I'll make a proposal, you sleep with me tonight, and I'll leave with no strings attached the next morning, sound good? I just want to lay off for a night, and, right now, as the opportunity presents itself, I want it." I fell back in the chair. "That is if you want to-"