Coffee & Beaches

1

thank you, @starlightt for making the beautiful cover!

I pour another cup of coffee for an elderly man and place the coffee pot back in its place. As I wipe up the tiny bit of spilled coffee, I notice he hasn't touched the coffee and his gaze is fixated on the one tv in the "vintage-style" Denny's. I turn around, rag in hand and lean my elbows against the counter. I tilt my head up to see my mothers' face smiling back at me with a mascara tube in hand. I roll my eyes and spin back around. I look around and see that the man isn't the only one gawking at her. I become more forceful in my scrubbing of the counter as her cheery "tv voice" comes through the tiny speakers. The thing about "Samantha Dove" is that she has one of those faces... voices... bodies.. you get the point, basically everyone is visually attracted to her. Except most of what she has was done by a doctor or a make-up artist. Plus, her real name is Melanie; Melanie Brown. It's not fantastic or out there, it's sweet and southern. A real teddy-bear name. But, obviously sweet and southern wasn't satisfying enough for her. Neither was college, settling down, or a baby.

I toss the rag underneath the counter in a bin. I look up and outside the window to see the one and only Amber Vaughn checking her bubble gum pink lipstick in her car mirror. Her signature, pink-rimmed aviators shadow her eyes, with just enough room to see her extravagant lashes, and her shoulder-length, platinum blonde hair is flipped ever-so-perfectly in on the ends. She opens her car door, steps out, straightens and smooths her strapless dress, and marches to the front door. Now, this is the part where you predict that I will say how much I despise her guts, tell you a horrible backstory, and insult her clearly showing brown roots but you're only to be proved wrong. Amber is my best friend. Yes, she's a bit conceited and self absorbed sometimes, most of the time, but she's still the life of the party and pretty much my only friend. And, um, she's from the west coast with a "pop star" for a mother, what do you expect? An insecure, little bug who hates cameras? Let's try not to be too cliché. Anyway, most people think I'm quiet or weird or should I even say it...religious. Honestly, I think they judge my appearance. Meaning they dislike my hair and clothing choices. At the end of the day, though, I couldn't care less. I like my hair the way it is. Of course, it's a bit dry from past color treatments, just my luck it doesn't have an ounce of curl or the perfect beach wave my mother has, but it's still an individual shade of brown and my own length. I've never really struggled with body image nor do I not enjoy the taste of frozen pizzas at 3 a.m. Wow, isn't that crazy? A west coast girl who is surrounded by models, actresses, and singers..oh my! that doesn't mind the slight pudge forming over her very... toned... abs. I slump into the stool behind the counter and poke at the pudge until I feel Amber's eyes on me. What can I say? Yes, I know, hard to believe I'm 25. Well, I'm a child at heart. Who says i have to grow up yet anyway? I look up and her lips are mushed together in a way that says she's holding back a laugh. Her fatal flaw, a laugh. The only way to describe it, is to say it sounds like an angry chipmunk.

"Lia, what," her voice sounds tight, "are you doing?"

"I'm just fulfilling my endless boredom by poking my belly. Mostly to distract myself from paying any attention to her."I say and gesture over my shoulder to the tv.

"Ah, I see. So, um, when do you get off?" Amber asks, pushing her aviators to the top of her head and taking a seat at one of the stools.

"Amber, you know when I get off. What are you really trying to ask?" she sighs and places her left hand under her chin, "Well, you see, me and Madison,"

"Madison and I." I correct her and her eyes slowly circle to point out her frustration.

"Anyway, Madison and I are going shopping," Amber throws her thumb over her shoulder and I see a waving Madison, who was very not there before, in the passenger seat of Amber's convertible, "and we want you to come with us."

"Is this an intervention? If it is, I would just like to say, I am loving my clothes currently and everything you guys pick out is either super low cut, super tight, and-or super bright?" Faster than I can say no thanks she whips out a shiny, black card from her pocket. As you can see, Amber has not grown up either. We have the mind sets of teenagers. It's Hollywood, darling.

"Mommy dearest got me a new card and you just absolutely have to come like max it." she wiggles her eyebrows and I dramatically sigh.

"I guess..." Amber frowns, "Of course I will."

"K," She grins, "meet you at your place." She says and rushes out. I smack myself on the forehead and wait for Anne, my chronically late co-worker, to come take my place.

☕☕☕

Author's Note:

I know this is kind of a short first chapter but I am basically testing the waters to see if anyone is interested in me continuing this story. I can see the potential but it doesn't matter what I think haha. Lemme know what you think! Please comment, vote, share, if you like what you see❤

Coffee & Beaches

© 2014, Daisha Bischoff

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher at daishabischoff@gmail.com

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author's imagination and are used fictitiously.

All Rights Reserved. © 2014