Two Last First Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  I half expected her to launch into the Samuel L. Jackson Ezekiel vengeance speech I’d enjoyed while watching Pulp Fiction. I admit, I’d rewound and watched that speech a few times. But instead, I held my box against my body and smiled at them all. “Actually, I quit.”

  There was a collective gasp.

  “You did? Why?” someone asked as another said, “Good for you!” Helena gawped at me.

  “Yup. And . . . I have to go.” I collected my jacket and dropped it into the box and slung my purse over my shoulder.

  “But . . . don’t you have to work your month’s notice out?” Helena asked.

  “I figured since The Princess doesn’t exactly want me around, we’d forget about that whole notice thing.”

  My—now ex—colleagues stepped aside like the parting of the Red Sea, and I walked through them all. “Bye, everyone! It was great to work with you all. Good luck!”

  “Hey,” Helena said, grabbing my arm. “Good for you.”

  I grinned at her. “Thanks. It was nice working with you. And thanks for the tip on Tarantino. I’m not sure I would have done this if it hadn’t been for him.”

  She gave me a knowing nod. “Quentin changes lives.”

  Usually, I would have thought she’d possibly taken her admiration for the guy a little too far, but in this, I decided she was right.

  Stay off my back, or I will attack and you don't want that. Daa-da da-da-daa-da.

  As I left, I glanced up between the row of cubicles toward Portia’s office. She was standing, watching me, her skinny arms crossed across her chest. I waved and smiled at her, enjoying every moment of my minor triumph.

  I was no longer an Email Marketing Assistant. I was out of here. And I was free.

  Chapter 4

  THAT SONG STILL PLAYING in my head, I arrived at the Cozy Cottage Café at just after eight thirty. I hadn’t known where else to go. If I’d gone home, it would be to an empty house and would quite possibly lead to more moping about the sorry state of my love life—okay, my total lack of anything even vaguely resembling a love life—and second-guessing myself over my decision to leave my job. I chose being around other people. And, if I was to be totally honest, I was rather impressed with myself and I wanted to share it with someone. I’d had fantasies about standing up to Portia and telling her where to shove the job on quite a number of occasions. Perhaps weekly. Okay, daily. But to actually do it? Man, it felt good with a capital G-O-O-D!

  Bailey was standing behind the counter, dressed in her red Cozy Cottage polka dot apron, handing a man in a suit a takeout coffee with her ever-present smile plastered across her gorgeous face. She took one look at me and knitted her brows together in question. I beamed back at her. I was still riding that incredible adrenaline high and could not have contained my happiness if I was paid.

  Coffee Guy walked past and smiled at me. I smiled back. Life was good!

  “What are you doing here so early?” Bailey asked.

  I jiggled from foot to foot. “I just did something.”

  “Well, you look pretty happy about it, whatever it is.”

  “Want to know?” I asked like the big kid I was being.

  She laughed. “Absolutely. Want a coffee first?”

  Coffee could only add to my current state of euphoria. “Yes, please.”

  “And the usual?”

  “It’s too early for—” I stopped myself. Of course, eight thirty in the morning was too early to eat cake, but today was one out of the bag. A day less ordinary. “You know what? Yes, I will have the usual. As long as I can buy you a slice, too?”

  “Sure. It’s quiet here for the next forty-five minutes or more, so we usually get a bit of a breather at this time of day. Go grab a seat.” She turned to a new member of staff I’d only seen once or twice before. “Kayla, can you please bring us a couple of lattes, a slice of the carrot cake and a slice of the chocolate mocha, too? Thanks, honey.” She noticed me grinning at her. “What? I want to share in your big news and this is late for me. I start work a lot earlier than you.”

  “No worries.”

  We sat down at our usual table in the window, the morning sun streaming in. I could hear Kayla clanging and banging about behind the counter.

  Bailey glanced over at her, and then back at me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s having a bad day. Now, tell me your big news.” She grinned at me across the table.

  “Well . . . I quit my job.” I held my breath and studied her face. Bailey was the first person I’d told outside of my immediate team. Telling her made it feel all the more real. And incredible.

  Her face creased into a broad smile. “Oh, my gosh. Really? That’s amazing.” She shot me a quizzical look. “Isn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Oh, yes. I hadn’t realized it until this morning when I woke up. I mean really, really realized it, you know? I hate being an Email Marketing Assistant. I hate it! It bores the pants off me. Plus, I hate my boss. Well, she’s no longer my boss, so I guess I hate someone who used to be my boss.” I let out a laugh. “Anyway, the point is, I wasn’t happy so I left.” I beamed at her, impressed by my singular ability to make a decision and act on it. I should write a book about it. How to Live Your Best Life by Paige Miller. Yes, I liked the sound of that.

  “Wow. I had no idea. I mean, I’d heard you say it wasn’t the best job in the world, but I didn’t know you hated it that much. Good for you for doing something about it.”

  Kayla delivered our cakes and coffees, slapping them down on the table in front of us. The coffees spilled over onto their saucers. Bailey shot her a look. Kayla glared at her and stomped off.

  “What was that all about?” I asked, my eyes wide.

  Bailey shook her head. “Don’t ask. Something to do with not wanting to handle food with gluten in it.”

  I gawped at her. “All your food has gluten in it.”

  “I know, right?”

  I put a large scoop of carrot cake and cream cheese frosting deliciousness in my mouth, savoring the taste, the texture, everything about it. “This is so good,” I mumbled.

  “Thanks. And, no, you’re not getting the recipe.”

  I chuckled. Bailey had read my mind. I drank my coffee and smiled some more as I thought about how it had felt to simply pack up and leave AGD.

  “Now that you’ve quit, what’s next?”

  I was midway through my next mouthful. I stopped chewing. What was I going to do now? I had been so focussed on the excitement of finally working out I hated everything about my job, I hadn’t thought anywhere near that far ahead. I swallowed and look blankly at Bailey. “I’ve got no idea.”

  “The world is your oyster, it would seem.”

  I grinned at her, my heart full. “I could do anything, couldn’t I? Anything at all. I could run away and join the circus, I could become a zookeeper, I could become an artist!” My brain felt like it could pop with the possibilities. Hmm, maybe no more caffeine for me today.

  Bailey swallowed her bite of cake and smiled, shaking her head. “Your enthusiasm for life is infectious, Paige Miller.”

  I grinned at her. My phone beeped. I pulled it out of my purse and looked at the screen. There were messages from Marissa and Cassie, both wanting to know whether the rumors were true. I fired off a group text telling them to meet me here and read the next message. It was from Helena.

  You are The Bride!!

  I’m the what? I showed the text to Bailey. “What do you think that means?”

  Bailey shrugged. “I have no idea. But it’s kind of poor taste after . . . you know.” She looked abashed. We both knew she was referring to the whole me-Cassie-Will love triangle thing. Only it wasn’t a triangle, more two lines melded together inside a huge love heart and me, out in the cold. I ignored the twist in my belly. Helena didn’t know about my feelings for Will, so that didn’t make sense. I sent a quick text back. A moment later, my phone beeped again.

  Kill Bill: Vol 1. Watch and learn

  I should have known
. “It’s from a Tarantino movie. Kill Bill: Volume 1.”

  Bailey nodded knowingly. “Ah, Uma Thurman. She was ‘The Bride.’ A total kick-ass assassin.” She cocked her head, sizing me up. “You know, you look a little like her. Maybe you could get a yellow jumpsuit?”

  I smiled to myself. A hot assassin in a yellow jumpsuit? Now that I could get on board with. I wondered whether there were any job vacancies for that?

  There was more clanging and banging from behind the counter, grabbing our attention.

  Bailey pursed her lips. “I’ll need to go and sort that out.” She drained her coffee and stacked our plates, skillfully holding everything with one hand. “Another one?”

  “No, I’d better—” I looked up at her and grinned. “Yes, please.” I had nowhere else to be. I could sit here all day and eat cake. Or not. I could do whatever I wanted. It was a liberating feeling.

  Bailey returned to the counter with the plates, and I could hear Kayla and her talking. I returned my attention to my phone and fired off another text to Cassie and Marissa, asking them where they were. I needn’t have bothered. I looked up to see them striding through the door and over to the table, where they plunked themselves down in a flurry of questions.

  I put my hand up in the “stop sign.” They looked at me expectantly. I nodded at them both, plastering a grim look on my face. “I’m no longer at AGD.”

  Their mouths dropped open, making them look like those clown heads you throw balls into at fairs. I tried to look as serious as possible, pranking my friends. But I couldn’t help it. They looked so shocked, I burst into laughter, clutching my sides as I threw my head back. I’d never been much of a liar. I never saw the point. If the truth was so bad, then you needed to change it, not lie about it.

  “Your faces!” I managed.

  “So, you weren’t fired?” Cassie asked, furrowing her brow.

  I pressed my lips together and shook my head.

  “You quit?” Marissa squeaked.

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  And then they were back to rapid-fire-questions-at-Paige time, both wanting to know what had happened, why I’d done it, how it had felt, and what I was going to do now.

  “I guess it’s been coming on for a while, but, really, it’s because I woke up this morning with my mind made up. You know I haven’t been happy for a while. A long while. When her royal highness, Princess Portia, suggested I move into Dwight’s team, I saw it as my chance to break free.”

  “I’ve Got The Power” was replaced by “I Want To Break Free” in my head. God knows, God knows I want to break free . . .

  Wow. I really needed to update my soundtrack, perhaps drag it into the current century.

  “I take my hat off to you,” Marissa said, shaking her head, her blonde hair bouncing. “You’ve got balls.”

  I let out a short, sharp laugh. “Thanks!”

  “No, really, you do. Doesn’t she, Cassie?”

  Cassie nodded, her lips pressed together. “Totally. Big, furry ones.”

  We all laughed at the bizarre image of my big furry balls. I told them how amazing I had felt handing my notice in this morning, how I had this wonderful excitement buzzing around my body, which had now given way to a wonderful sense of calm, and that all was right in my world. “I mean, it could just be the cake talking, but this feels so good, so right. You know?”

  “Preach it!” Marissa said with a grin.

  “Ooh, cake.” Cassie’s eyes lit up. “Your usual, Marissa?” Marissa nodded. Cassie stood up. “Back in a second.” She walked through the near-empty café to the counter.

  Marissa leaned in closer to me, watching Cassie out of the corner of her eye. “This decision of yours doesn’t have anything to do with Cassie and Will, does it?”

  I shook my head vehemently. “No. Absolutely not.” I sounded three hundred per cent more convincing than I felt. Although I hadn’t connected the dots in my head, I had an unsettled feeling in my belly. In quitting my job, I knew I was throwing caution to the wind in a much more reckless way than I would ever have done under normal circumstances. Will choosing Cassie over me had messed with my head, making me reckless and cautious, both at the same time. Reckless with my job, cautious with my love life.

  Yup, I had officially become a hot mess.

  “Good. I thought I needed to check.” Marissa grinned at me. “So, now you can dedicate more time to finding your Last First Date.”

  The unsettled feeling in my belly intensified as my wonderful sense of calm evaporated into thin air. “About that—” I began, hesitatingly.

  “I know what you’re going to say,” Marissa interrupted. “You’re not going to go on your Last First Date. But you are, and we won’t take no for an answer.”

  “Here you go.” Cassie arrived back at the table with three slices of cake, one for each of us, our favorites, of course. “I’ll go get the coffees. Bailey seems to be having some trouble with one of her staff.”

  I looked over at the counter where Bailey and Kayla appeared to be glaring at one another. It looked a like Mexican stand off—over gluten.

  With Cassie temporarily absent, Marissa said, “We’ll talk about this later, okay?”

  I let out a sigh and nodded. My response would be the same, though. No Last First Date for me.

  Chapter 5

  LUCKILY, I DIDN’T NEED to have that particular conversation again right now. Our coffee and cake devoured—if I kept this up, I was going to have a serious weight issue and possibly even join Dad in the diabetes club—Cassie got called away and Marissa needed to get back to the office for a team meeting. As I watched them leave, my former euphoria at having walked out of my job forever returned. I leaned back in my comfy chair and looked through the window at the passersby: the businesspeople, rushing from A to B, all serious with their phones plastered to their ears; the students, walking in groups, chatting amongst themselves as they enjoyed the late summer’s sun. I let out a contented sigh.

  Man or no man, job or no job, life was pretty darn good for Paige Prudence Miller today.

  My contemplation was interrupted by a loud crash, emanating from somewhere in the kitchen out back. Startled, I looked up to see Kayla throw her apron over her shoulder in Bailey’s stunned face, stomp past the counter, rudely push her way through several café patrons, and bang through the doors. Through the window, I could see her stop and look up the street, then down in the other direction, seemingly deciding where to go. I watched as she turned on her heel and spun around, looking directly at me through the window with a red, angry face. I shrunk back into my seat and quickly looked away. I hated confrontation. The power to turn invisible would have come in very handy right about now. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her stomping back into the café.

  I stood up, concerned about what she was planning to do. I glanced over at Bailey and could tell in an instant she was worried as well. Kayla pushed through the patrons once more, past Bailey and back into the kitchen. As quickly as I could, I darted across the café and behind the counter. Bailey could be in danger; I had to get there fast.

  A second later, Kayla reappeared at the kitchen entrance, her satchel slung over her shoulder. I noticed Bailey press herself up against the counter in what appeared to be an attempt to put as much space between herself and her employee as she could.

  Kayla glared at her, seething. “I forgot this.”

  “Okay,” Bailey replied uncertainly, trying to smile.

  “Thanks for nothing, bitch,” Kayla spat at Bailey to a collective gasp from both me and the café patrons, who were all watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

  To my relief, Kayla stormed off, out from behind the counter and through the door, leaving Bailey and myself watching her go, agog, the café silent around us.

  I turned to Bailey and put my hand on her arm. She flinched at my touch. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  She blinked at me, as though in a daze,
not speaking. People in the café appeared to spring back to life, talking amongst themselves. Kayla had certainly given them all something to talk about this morning, that was for sure.

  I raised my eyebrows enquiringly at her. “Bailey?”

  She appeared to snap out of her Kayla-induced reverie. “Yes, Paige. Yes. I’m fine. That was . . . unexpected.”

  “Um, yeah. What was it all about?”

  Bailey let out a puff of air. “You know what? I have no idea. I mean, she had some weird notion the gluten in the baked goods could seep through her skin and give her celiac disease, but I didn’t think she was serious.” She shook her head in disbelief. “She seemed perfectly sane when I employed her a week or so ago.”

  I scoffed. “Well, she’s pretty far from sane today.”

  “That is the truth.”

  “And I’m no expert, but I don’t think you can catch celiac from touching a cake.”

  Bailey’s eyes flashed as a smile teased the edges of her mouth. “No, I don’t think you can.”

  I let out a chuckle. Maybe Kayla was just having a bad day—or perhaps she really did have a touch of the crazies.

  Bailey looked at the growing line of customers, waiting to place their orders with her. She pasted on a smile and greeted the first customer. “Hello, sir. I apologize for the . . . whatever that was. What can I get you?”

  The man smiled back at her and placed his order, making a remark about drama queen waitresses. I felt like an idiot, standing behind the counter, watching Bailey work quickly and efficiently. She was serving the long line of customers with a bright smile on her face, looking as though Kayla hadn’t just abandoned her in an angry puff of smoke.

  “Can I help?” I asked her as she stepped next to me, placing a blueberry muffin on a plate.

  “Could you? That would be so brilliant. I wasn’t expecting to be here on my own right now, and I’m short staffed as it is today.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”