Lattes & Lace

by Annora Green

  “I didn’t love that she started doing that,” Nate commented. “I worried about her a lot, actually.”

  Ari shook her head. “It wasn’t that bad. But after doing it for a few years, I grew tired of it, the constant stress of it, and yeah, I figured being in that career indefinitely really wasn’t the greatest for my long term well-being and sanity. And my parents were always bugging me to move back home, and eventually I realized I really missed being around them. So I went back home, and took my savings and started The Little Cafe.”

  “You forgot your nine month stint in a hospital and physical therapy,” Nate said.

  “Yeah, there was that. Let’s just say I got hurt on the job, busted up my back, and had to spend a lot of time in physical therapy. Decided to bow out of that profession before I could lose anything else,” Ari admitted. “I threw myself into classes in community college during that time, so it worked out okay.”

  “Quite an adventure, all things considered,” Sophia commented.

  Ari nodded. “I always wanted adventure. You know, I saw my parents slave away at desk jobs my entire life and I knew that wasn’t for me, especially when they were repaid for all their hard work by bastard execs at the company who laid them off.”

  “I can see why it didn’t appeal to you, then. Although not all careers end so dismally,” Sophia said.

  “I guess Nate was a good wake-up call, though,” Ari said. “He paid his way through technical college here in Vegas, which landed him this pretty good job in showbiz-”

  “Managing the lighting for a show isn’t exactly showbiz,” Nate corrected.

  “Well, it’s a stable living, one in which you’re probably not going to run across some lunatic who injures you and sends you to physical therapy for the better part of a year. Anyways, after finishing my college degree, I realized maybe I should go home, and lend my parents a hand with things, and after my mom’s cupcake shop failed, it gave me the idea to start a coffee shop instead. I learned from her mistakes. I still wanted to own my own business, but offer more of a mainstay product - coffee never goes out of style - and it had lower overhead than baking a dozen different brand new flavors of cupcakes every day.”

  “It was a good business idea,” Sophia said. “We didn’t have any decent coffee in Palo Rosa before. You had to drive a couple of miles, in traffic, mind you, to get anything good. You rescued me from endless bad cups of coffee.”

  “See, Ari? Who said having a normal job couldn’t make a difference in people’s lives,” Nate said.

  “Very funny,” Ari said, and then turned to Sophia. “This guy remembers everything. I said that to him, once. But I guess that’s what friends are for... they remind you of how far you’ve come.”

  Sophia smiled. Ari and Nate’s strong friendship was evident in the way they talked and interacted. Meeting someone who was a part of Ari’s life outside of her work life made Sophia feel like she was getting a different perspective on the woman.

  They sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, only commenting here and there about the food, the house, and the music. Sophia felt herself relax at last, sinking into the soft couch, even nibbling on a pretzel. It was not bad, and Nate’s drink had definitely settled her stomach. She also concentrated on drinking the endless glasses of water that concerned Ari and Nate kept pouring for her.

  As Ari and Nate chatted about music, Sophia felt herself drifting off, sleepy from the food, music and pleasant company.

  “It’s late,” Ari commented finally, noticing Sophia yawning and sinking further down into the couch. “Here, let me show you upstairs.”

  Sophia followed Ari up the stairs to a loft. It was not the most private place, since it was open on one side to the entire main floor, but it was large and comfortable.

  “It’s nice,” Sophia said sleepily, struggling to stay alert.

  Ari shrugged, moving towards the bed and clicking on the bedside lamp. “It’s nothing. I hope it’s comfortable enough. It’s not as, well, you know, fancy as your place.”

  “Oh,” Sophia said, looking around at the art on the walls: there were paintings, masks, sculptures, and several dreamcatchers scattered around. “I like it. The paintings are good.”

  “Thanks,” Ari said. “I mean, I did them.”

  “You painted these?” a surprised Sophia said, looking closer at one that was hanging over the bed. It was semi-abstract, though it looked a bit like a desert landscape, filled with bright oranges, blues, yellows and reds.

  “Yeah. I like to paint, though haven’t had a lot of time for it recently. I used to work odd hours, when I was a PI, so it was a good hobby for random times of the day or night when I wasn’t working.”

  “They are really well done,” Sophia said, still studying the work.

  “Thanks. So, the bathroom’s right at the bottom of the stairs, there are fresh towels in that cupboard over there-” she pointed to the far side of the room, “ and basically just help yourself to whatever you need. I’ve got aspirin in that drawer by the bed, all the water you can drink downstairs in the water bottle, and there are random shirts in that top drawer, t-shirts, flannel and plaid shirts, probably a sweat-shirt, whatever you might want to borrow.”

  “This is far superior to anything else I would have been experiencing tonight back at the party penthouse, so thank you,” Sophia said, giving Ari a tired smile.

  “Goodnight,” Ari said, heading back down the stairs.

  “Goodnight, Arianna,” Sophia said.

  Ari paused for a moment at hearing her name, smiled to herself, then continued down the stairs.

  ¨°¨

  When Sophia woke up the next morning, she could not remember where she was.

  She blinked a few times, the sun streaming in through windows on either side of the soft bed she was in. She was surrounded by painted dressers that looked vintage, low tables with art supplies, and various trinkets that looked like they had been collected over the course of many travels.

  And paintings. Large, colorful paintings.

  Paintings made by Ari.

  Sophia sat up, the events of the previous day rushing back. She felt a little dizzy, and grabbed the glass of water on her nightstand.

  She looked down at the bedding she was sleeping in. Soft, worn sheets, a blue quilt. The loft was homey and pleasant. The feathers from a dreamcatcher hanging on a nail in the wall nearby fluttered in the draft created by a ceiling fan.

  She took a moment, while sipping on her water, to look at Ari’s paintings some more. They were well done. Aesthetically pleasing, yes, but also bright, cheerful. Bold colors and lots of light. They were a little modern for her style, but she liked them nonetheless. They were not like any piece of art she owned.

  She heard movement and chatting downstairs, and rolled out of bed, wrapping a throw blanket around herself as she shuffled over a chair where she had neatly folded last night’s outfit. She was uninterested in putting it back on: her wrinkled dark blue blouse smelled vaguely of food from the Italian restaurant and seemed unappealing, although she could probably tolerate slipping into the black pants for another day.

  She opened the top drawer where she had found the soft, oversized concert t-shirt she wore to bed last night and looked through it. Ari had said she could help herself to whatever she found in the drawer, and she located a clean, soft grey scoop-neck t-shirt that did not look entirely unwearable.

  When she wandered downstairs a few minutes later, she was promptly offered a steaming mug of coffee and a bagel by Nate, who was managing the toaster.

  “Sleep well?” Ari asked, looking up from the newspaper she was reading at the table.

  “Yes, actually,” Sophia said, settling down at the table next to her and taking a peek at the business section of the paper. “You have a very comfortable home.”

  “Glad to hear it,” said Ari, as Nate joined them at the table, setting a plate with a bagel and cream cheese in front of both of them.

  “Shame you’re not
at the hotel. They have a great breakfast buffet there,” he said, grinning. “Lots of carbs and rubbery eggs. Perfect meal to kick off another day of nonstop drinking.”

  “Completely unnecessary, as I am never drinking ever again,” grumbled Sophia.

  “You’ll probably want to spend the night here again, then, knowing what Rachel has planned for tonight,” Ari said.

  “What could she possibly do that would top the sophistication and understated elegance of last night?” asked Sophia.

  “Pool party in the penthouse suite, private DJ until the wee hours, private entertainment if you know what I mean, and if you don’t, well, it involves men dressed like police officers arriving at the door and, uh, ‘arresting’ your sister.”

  Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Please allow me to stay here.”

  “I’ve got to work a show tonight and promised some friends I’d leave to go camping with them early tomorrow, so I’ll stay with a friend after work,” Nate said. “You’ll have the place to yourself tonight and tomorrow morning. Should I whip up some more of my hangover prevention juice and leave it in the fridge?”

  “Maybe,” Ari said, glancing warily at Sophia.

  “I swear I’m not drinking again,” Sophia said defensively.

  “...just in case,” Ari added to Nate.

  Nate nodded. “Will do.”

  ¨°¨

  “The key to surviving bachelorette parties,” Ari instructed as she drove them back to the hotel after breakfast, “Is topretend you’re drinking. Always have something in your hand, but everyone else should, in theory, be drinking too much to notice that your drink is the same one, hour after hour. Order something classic and inoffensive, like a gin and tonic, and spend most of your time holding it, taking the occasional sip here and there just to be convincing.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Little, for that enlightening insight.”

  “Hey, just trying to help out so you won’t be as bad off today as you looked last night.”

  “Thanks,” Sophia said.

  Ari glanced at her quickly. “I mean, you looked ill. Nauseous. As far as your outward appearance, it’s always good, even when you’ve turned slightly green and your eyes are unfocused.”

  “I don’t know what to say to that. I think that was a compliment?”

  Ari sipped iced coffee and did not answer. Even though they had had coffee with breakfast at Ari’s, Ari insisted on stopping off the highway at one of her favorite coffee joints/diners.

  “Best iced coffee ever,” she promised, hopping out of the car to run inside and get her usual order. A few minutes later, she bought back a tall, milky iced coffee drink for Sophia that was a little sweeter than Sophia typically liked, but not altogether bad.

  Ari glanced down at her phone, which had been tossed into the center console. “I think I see a text from Rachel. Will you check what she’s up to?”

  Sophia reached for it and stared at the screen. “It says the ladies are feeling like spa visits this afternoon before gearing up for the next phase of the party. I guess we’re free until the extravaganza kicks off later this afternoon.”

  “Wish I’d known, I would have spent more time sleeping in and being lazy this morning,” Ari grumbled.

  “I should get some work done,” Sophia said, focusing on her own phone and starting to scroll through her emails.

  “What? No, stop that. Put that thing down,” Ari instructed.

  “I run a business. A busy, growing business. I don’t get days off,” Sophia insisted.

  “So do I. But I also acknowledge that I’m not, like, a robot, and actually deserve a weekend away once in a blue moon,” Ari said.

  Sophia didn’t say anything, but clicked off her phone just to placate Ari. She gazed out the window. It was bright today, and they were driving past endless houses.

  “I never pictured Vegas as having suburbs,” Sophia said.

  Ari laughed. “There’s got to be some place for all of the people who work at the hotels and shows and casinos to live.”

  Ari merged onto a highway.

  “So, you want to hit up the spa with everyone else?” she asked Sophia.

  Sophia shook her head. “Not particularly. I know I should, and I know that is one activity that my sister and I can probably both relate to enjoying, but I’m really not in the mood. Besides, it’s hot today, and having a massage or sitting in a steam room or hot tub doesn’t sound appealing.”

  “So what are we going to do to kill a few hours?”

  Sophia glanced down at Ari’s phone, where texts from Rachel were popping up on the screen. “Well, Rachel says she’s going out and about, wants to do some shopping.”

  Ari groaned.

  “Not a fan of shopping, Miss Little?”

  “I’d rather visit the dentist,” she said.

  “I was eyeing a bag last night in a window of a store at the mall we were at. Let’s meet her there,” Sophia decided, texting Rachel back.

  ¨°¨

  “I miss the days when you two didn’t get along at all,” Ari complained as she trailed after Sophia into the mall.

  Sophia was making her way toward a French designer store with a flamboyant display of bags - from what little Ari knew of the designer, she figured one probably cost more than her car - and up ahead, they had spotted Rachel window shopping, already holding a glossy shopping bag in one hand.

  “You’re supposed to be at a spa getting mud masks,” Rachel teased when she saw Sophia walking towards her.

  “I get dragged through the mud enough from my sister as it is, I don’t need to add masks to the equation,” she replied.

  “Well, who needs to waste their time with masks when you have this place to shop at. Everything in here is gorgeous,” Rachel sighed wistfully as they walked in.

  Rachel wandered over to a display of scarves, while Sophia headed towards a wall of leather purses. Ari hesitated, not sure what to do in the place. It was big, bright and a little bit crowded. Nothing in the store appealed to her. For lack of anything better to do, she walked over to a display of keychains and coin purses, touched one, and recoiled quickly when she noticed the price tag said $295.

  “For a coin purse? I could buy a year’s worth of clothes for that price. Who shops here?” she muttered to herself, gazing around, expecting to see movie stars among them.

  She saw Sophia talking to a sales person about a red purse, and she slowly made her way over to her.

  “...and is it Italian leather?” Sophia was asking the woman.

  A cow’s a cow. Who cares what country the leather was from?Ari wondered to herself.

  “I would have to check, but we typically source our leathers from the United States or Argentina,” the woman said.

  “This isn’t as finely crafted as the ones I saw in your shop in Nice last summer,” Sophia observed.

  The woman scowled. “I assure you this piece lives up to our exacting standards...”

  “It looks like a red purse to me,” Ari said cheerfully.

  Both women looked blankly at her.

  “But... don’t take my word for it,” she said, holding up two hands and backing away.

  “Thank you for the information,” Sophia said brusquely to the woman, handing the purse back to her.

  The saleswoman gave them both sour looks, which Sophia haughtily ignored, and she motioned to Ari to follow her over to Rachel, who was now examining a rack of leather jackets.

  “Why is this designer stuff any better than any other coat or purse that you could find someplace normal?” Ari asked her.

  “It has to do with the craftsmanship,” Sophia said. “I mean, that bag was not the best example – this brand has cheapened and become so commercial in recent years – but for the most part, luxury designers still manufacture their goods in countries where craftsmanship is taught from one generation to the next, where the pieces can be hand made according to tradition, the materials are high quality and sourced wisely, and the processes in making them – fr
om softening the leather, to ensuring the color is perfect – is simply much better than the mass-produced items that are sold at most retail stores.”

  Ari didn’t have a response to that.

  “Clothes, accessories, undergarments, these things aren’t just frivolous and meaningless items,” Sophia continued, watching Ari, who in turn was eyeing a buttery, caramel-colored leather jacket that Rachel was holding up to a mirror. “We wear them every day. We spend our entire lives in them. It’s our first, most immediate way of communicating about ourselves when we step outside or meet someone new. Wearing things that are well made, and make you feel good, reflects who you are. Isn’t that worth something?”

  Sophia delicately touched the leather jacket that Rachel had held up moments earlier. “Here. Hold it up. Look at yourself in the mirror.”

  Ari held it up, looked, and quickly realized that the jacket would look awesome on her.

  “It suits you,” Sophia said.

  “May I try it on?” Ari asked Sophia.

  “Go for it.”

  Ari put it on.

  “You look amazing,” Rachel said as Ari admired how it looked in the mirror.

  Ari shrugged, smiling shyly. She took the jacket off and put it back on the rack.

  The women browsed a few more minutes, before moving towards the exit.

  “Let’s go before I spend the entire amount of money I’m earning off of this weekend gig, and then some. My plan was to invest my earnings back into my business, not just blow it on jackets and scarves,” Rachel said.

  “So why did you get into fashion?” Ari asked Sophia as they walked back out onto the plaza. “Is it because of what you said? About liking how clothes are how a person presents themselves to the world?

  Sophia nodded. “Partially, yes. Clothes also made me feel better at times in my life when nothing else really seemed to.”

  “I can so relate. For years, every time I broke up with someone, I went out and maxed out my credit card. Terrible habit, but I have a killer wardrobe thanks to all of the asses who dumped me,” Rachel chimed in.

  “I guess the clothes help impress the next one who comes along,” Ari said.