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He slips his arms into his suit jacket he had draped over his arm, obviously on his way out the door. “You should smile more,” he says, turning to walk away. “The people love that. Makes the ratings go up.”
Fuck right off, George.
He chuckles as he walks away, knowing exactly the kind of affect his words had on me. But George is old school and he doesn’t give a shit about how backwards his antiquated thoughts are.
Flipping him the bird behind his back, I push away from my desk.
I need a change of scenery before I get fired for creating a hostile work environment. So, I load up my laptop and head to Neutral Grounds, my favorite coffee shop in the French Quarter.
The walk from my office to the shop is exactly what I need to clear my head. I’ll never tire of the sound of jazz music floating on the breeze along with the aroma of delicious food. Beautiful architecture, people laughing… New Orleans is simply good for my soul.
When I walk inside Neutral Grounds, the smell of espresso overwhelms me in the best of ways. I take in a deep breath and exhale loudly, making the owner, CeCe, laugh.
“What’s up, bebe? Need your usual fix?”
“In the largest cup you have, please, unless you have an intravenous application behind the counter you can hook me up to.”
“I’m fresh out of I.V.s but a big-ass cup I can do, don’t you worry.” CeCe turns around to fill my order, so I toss some bills onto the counter and go find a seat on the comfy couch by the window.
A few minutes later, CeCe slides onto the couch beside me and hands over the huge cup of what I know is the best iced coffee this side of the Mississippi. “You look like you’ve had one helluva day and it’s barely two o’clock. What’s up?”
“Same shit, different day,” I say with a sigh before taking a very unladylike drink. The only thing better than this would be my favorite martini from Come Again, but technically, I’m still on the clock, so this will have to do for now. “Well, that’s not entirely true. There’s new shit to go with the old shit… but it’s shit all the same.”
We both laugh and then simultaneously lean back into the couch.
“Is spending your nights on camera with a bunch of hot, dirty guys really that bad?”
I think about her question for a moment. Is it my dream job? No. But it’s also not the worst assignment I’ve had by far. And I realize there are a lot of people who’d kill for this job, so I should be thankful for this stepping stone.
“You’re right, it’s not horrible, it’s just not what I want to be doing right now. I know I sound like an ungrateful brat, so feel free to ignore me.”
CeCe squeezes my arm. “You’re not ungrateful,” she insists. “And you’re allowed to be a brat every once in a while, just don’t make it a habit. I’d hate to have to cut off one of my best customers.”
“I’d never be able to live without your coffee,” I say, sitting up and grabbing my laptop out of my bag. “No more bratty behavior, I promise.”
“How’s everything else?” CeCe asks, standing from the couch. “Sophie, Owen, and the kids?”
I sigh, nodding my head as I think about the happy family. “Good, they’re all doing really good.”
“And the Revelers are killing it,” CeCe adds.
“We don’t talk about how good they're doing,” I say dryly as I open my computer and power it on. “Superstitions and all that bullshit.”
She laughs. “Well, they should send out a memo to the whole city because that’s all everyone is talking about these days. Maybe you should do a side piece on baseball superstitions and traditions?”
“That would have to be its own series.”
The bell above the door tinkles and CeCe calls out a welcome to the newcomers. “That’s the end of my break. Let me know if you need a refill before you leave.”
“You’re the best,” I call out after her as I open my email and pick up where I left off at the office.
The first few emails are from random people who have news topics they think I need to cover.
The traffic on Canal is horrendous!!
Someone needs to do something about the smell on Bourbon Street…
I have a new restaurant opening and would love to have you in for dinner on the house.
