Two Hearts {H.S.}

Ch. 1

Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac

It all comes down to you

Oh, I still see your your bright eyes

Bright eyes

It all comes down to you

"I thought you hated the color pink."

"Yes, exactly. Hated being the key word here Jess. I've decided that all colors are beautiful and deserve equal amounts of adoration."

The crunchy and sharp toffee of my boss's and closest confidant's brown eyes slowly rolled into the back of her head as she muttered insincere annoyance under her breath.

Jess. You'd think it'd be short for something. Jessica? Jessie? Maybe even Jessabell? But no. Her name was just Jess, as blunt and square ended as she presented herself to be. A tipped over footstool among an eminence of wool pillows and swirling ornamental rugs. The one stubborn ice cube refusing to melt in the bottom of your dehydrated glass. 

Despite her many feeble and seemingly half-hearted attempts at keeping my quaintly persistent and diluted colorful personality at bay, I managed to sneak past her well guarded fortress like her own personal Trojan horse. However, once inside the glowing, precious castle, I didn't bother myself with destruction on already dilapidated buildings but instead erected my own edifice surrounded by plush gardens and singing birds. It could use a little solicitude in here, after all, she definitely deserved it.

The clacking of thick jars on butcher block countertops served as a cymbal bursting in my thoughts and rippling the jolting vibrations swiftly centering my feet into the ground and tugging my speculation from the clouds. "Grab those empties from round table two, Gumdrop, before your joy actually wears off on me and these trolls for workers don't take me seriously."

A smile of painted rosy lips tickles up the sun freckled apples of my cheeks and spilled into animation through the ribbing nature of my words. "Aw, c'mon Jess. You know that it wouldn't be bad for business if the smokin' babe behind the bar gave a lil somethin' somethin' occasionally," I emphasized with a slight caterpillar wiggle of my eyebrow.

Her resounding, 'get your ass to work before I shove my foot up it' was playfully concluded with a crack of damp dish towel across the stimulated bicep holding my relaxed form. 

The fatuous shriek that was fished from my throat preceded as the sound of beach balls bouncing on sand, of sand trickling through an hourglass, of an hourglass tapping against an intrigued fingernail. A flurry of eclectic pinks ranging from delicate dahlia to brash barbie littered the air as I gamboled to collect my first icy trophies of the night.

Pulsating clanks of frosted mugs,  steaming plates, and exploited trays filled the mildly raucous bar with a hailstorm steady beat most would find stressful. However, with two steady years and an ability to switch on an extroverted disposition under my belt the bar is nothing short of my wandering soul's dwelling.

During a moments lull, Jess's heavily inked and elegant hand swatted my own guilelessly golden skinned forearm. "Hey, forgot to tell you, but we got a new gig jumpin' aboard tonight."

"Wait, what? Where did Danky Duke and his Donkers go? And why haven't I been notified of our great loss?" The trenchancy in my voice a thick, tangy marmalade mixed with creamy and buttery insincerity.

"Well, apparently Danky Duke and his Donkers were more like Fanky Fuck and his Fuckers 'cause they got caught attempting to rob a maternity store 'cause they thought it was a bank in their LSD tripping minds."