I lazily licked my melting, pink ice cream cone as a drip fell onto my sun kissed legs. I was sprawled over one of the red chairs, who's upholstery was torn in various places, that sat in the Scoops! ice cream parlor where I had worked for a year. I flipped through the July issue of Vogue while Mak, employee/ my best friend was arguing with and overweight lady who demanded frozen yogurt that we didn't have.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry for the inconvenience but this is an ice cream shop. Not a frozen yogurt facility," she said in her im-pissed-but-im-going-to-be-nice-and-fake-until-you-leave voice. Then the lady went on about how it was so popular now and that everyone should have it.
I let my bored eyes scan the cute little shop. Noting every detail. The black and white checkered floor tiles, the water-stained white walls that were littered with the owner's odd paintings. I glanced down at my own attire. Blue jean shorts, dark grey flip-flops, a white crop top that advertised The 1975 across the front, and my brown hair that was pulled in to a bun on the top of my head.
I wiped away the pink drip from my thigh and returned to my magazine. I was reading an article about Leonardo DiCaprio's new movie
when the parlor's tinny bell rang, signaling a customer. It was only another frozen yogurt fanatic. So, I ignored their presence until they left and I could talk to Mak again.
"Thank the heavens they're gone!" She exclaimed. "I was ready to tear out my eyes and feed them to Lucifer."
Lucifer was the mangy old cat who lived in the shop. You could always see a ugly streak of grey running around the store, growls coming from behind his underbite. Lucy, as I called him, (and he hated) never was too fond of me. He seemed to like my elbow flesh. I mean, what kind of demented animal bites elbows? That was, as Mak called it, "some crazy shit right there."
"Lucy, you asshole," she muttered when he bit her ankle. "Yeah," I said,"We don't serve frozen yogurt here. Shall we get it tattooed on our foreheads?" I replied, waving my hands in the air. Mak combed through her short blonde bob with her long, pale fingers while putting her face as close to the stationary fan as possible.
We somehow survived a hot Pheonix summer of 100 degrees while singeing our once extremely white skin to a tropical tan. Well, except for Mak anyway. " Right?"She yelled. She ate a spoonful of blue blueberry blast ice cream from her paper cup.
"So, how are you and your boy toy?"I teased.
"Good, I guess. Found a guy yet?"
"What do you think?" I asked. I laughed and set the magazine on the cabinet in front of me. "Right," she muttered.
Mak and her boyfriend, Mason, had been dating for five months now and were deeply in love. The two love birds were all over each other. Passionately kissing in public places, never detaching hands (EVER), and always ditching others to spend time with one another. Gross, I know.
I never had much luck with men. I dated a guy last year who had the audacity to tell me that I was uglier than his mangy-ass mutt. Which was most likely a genuine statement. But, still. And Mak liked to remind me of that every day.
Speaking of, she had just finished pestering me about it when we locked up Scoops!.
"Later, loser!" I shouted across the parking lot.
"Ciao, Cass!" She replied. Since she had been going through an international phase, everything in her abilities was done in another language.
I slid into my black, open-top Jeep Wrangler and went home to my small, lonely apartment and prepared for the next day.
Every new day was the same for me. Go to work. Deal with demon-cat. Not sell frozen yogurt. Go home. But after all, that's just how it goes.
