Jersey Girl - Extended Version

Two

Oh, hell. Who came in here in the middle of the night, hit me over the head with a sledgehammer, then left? My head feels like it's going to explode.

"Come on. Get up, sleepyhead!" Benny shouts from the kitchen. "I've made breakfast."

She always, always drinks the same amount as me, yet she's the one who wakes up the morning after as fresh as a daisy. As if not one drop of alcohol passed her lips. I hate that.

My hair is matted against my face, my mouth feels like I had a midnight feast of sandpaper, and my head is banging. I need to pull my shit together. I have work this afternoon.

"Eat this. You'll feel better. And then you'll thank me for being the best friend a girl could ever have." She giggles.

She slides a cup of tea and two slices of toast with a perfectly cooked poached egg in my direction. I know she's right, and I've never wanted to seem ungrateful, so I take a seat at the table and tuck in. The feeling of a mouthful of toast hitting my stomach, swirled with a swig of tea, causes my tummy to flip. I manage to keep it down, but only just.

She takes a seat opposite me and starts to eat like she's been starved for a hundred years. "What do you have planned for today?" I ask her.

"I fancy some retail therapy," she replies, like a small child. She always gets a little giddy when it comes to shopping. She treats shopping like it's an Olympic event. She would be world champion if it was as sport. "I have my eye on something new. I just need to try them on."

"I dread to think what you'll come home with." I giggle, remembering some of her other fashion disasters. Her wardrobe is packed to bursting, mainly with the most exquisite clothes a girl could ask for, but a fair few items were purchased with the hope of starting a new trend. Benny has always had unique tastes, but some of her garish outfits never caught on, so they got flung to the back of her wardrobe with no hope of seeing the light of day ever again.

"I'll make sensible purchases," she promises with a smile. "I plan on coming by Grumpy's later. We'll walk home together." I'm working the afternoon shift today, and it's better than the late shift because it means someone else will have to close up, which always takes the longest time.

"Sounds great."

We finish off breakfast, and feeling a little better, I start to get ready for work, while Benny grabs her coat and goes on her adventure.

***

"I want those glasses spotless," Mr Grumpy shouts. "Polish those with the glass cloth to a high shine then put them on the shelves." I'm already doing as he says. I think I know how to do my job by now. I'm pretty sure he has a touch of OCD as he insists on telling me this every shift I work, and if there is the slightest sign of a water mark, he gets even grumpier. He already explained to me what he expects of me the first day I started here. I'm not a goldfish; I've not forgotten how he likes things done. Albeit, some days I can hardly remember my own name after a session of heavy drinking, but nonetheless, I can remember how to do this mundane job. He didn't get his nickname by chance; he earned it.

"Yeah, yeah," I whisper under my breath.

"What was that?" He's scowling at me over the top of his spectacles that are too big for his face. The fifty-something man has run this bar since dinosaurs roamed the earth. The stress of running his own business has caused premature balding and greying hair. As far as I can remember, his appearance hasn't changed in all the time I've known him. He has a beer belly, and I'm sure that's from his 'tasting the beer to make sure it's not off' mentality.