She shrugs. “Maybe it’s all the flannel.”
I glance down at my shirt and pull it away from my chest, going with my usual defence. “Kurt Cobain wore a lot of flannel! Flannel can be verygrunge. Why am I farm boy and not grunge boy?”
That’s enough to make her take a break from stonewalling the world and actually smile. “You arenotgrunge boy.”
I hold my hands up and raise my eyes to the ceiling. “Paige has spoken.”
“And Paige is done speaking.” She starts lifting her headphones back into place. “You need anything else?”
“Nope. You can go back to your cave.”
She gives me a thumbs up before pulling the door closed. Sometimes I wonder if she’s busy plotting murders or global catastrophes in there. Then I decide I’d rather not know.
I head to my own room and take a seat at my cheap IKEA desk before opening up my laptop. It would be nice to live somewhere big enough for an actual office, but in the meantime, I converted my closet so that it feels like I’m ‘going to work’ when I open the doors—and when I say converted, I mean I took most of the shelves out and shoved a narrow desk inside. It’s not much, but it’s home base for my ecommerce business.
I put my economics degree at McGill on hold after doing a project on ecommerce in my second year. Something about the concept just wouldn’t let go of me, and the year after that was spent doing research and working up the guts to take the plunge while I saved what I could from my shifts at Taverne Toulouse. I made a few early attempts, but it’s only during the past year or so that I’ve really gotten serious.
I use a drop shipping system, which means I don’t make, store, or ship any of the products I sell. That’s all taken care by a wholesaler; what I do is the market research to find a niche and a product that fits it. I create a brand, build an online store, set up social media accounts, and start running ads. It’s straightforward in a sense, but getting itrightis a one in a million shot in the dark. Ecommerce is about finding and acting on just the right combination of factors at just the right time.
I’ve had a lot of flops, and I’m still not making the kind of money to write home about, but I’ve gone from nothing to only needing to work part time at the bar, and things are picking up more speed by the day.
I have almost three hours before my shift tonight to finish some tasks I’ve been putting off for way too long. Ignoring the notifications for half a dozen Facebook meme groups, I check a few sales pages and reply to some emails before diving into the task of getting a new ad campaign set up.
My phone buzzes on the desk beside me just as I’m really getting into the zone. I know I shouldn’t look; this isbusinesstime, but it’s a big night at the bar, and it could be someone getting in touch with a desperate need for help.
I last about a minute before I pick the phone up to find a text from Monroe.
Do you think you could come in now? You can leave early as repayment. The beer order came in a day late, and I need bodies to move kegs.
I glance at my computer screen and consider telling her I’m busy with my other job. This stuff really can’t wait any longer, and I’ve already covered an extra shift this week, but what kind of person would I be if I left five-foot-nothing Monroe to cart kegs around by herself?
I send her the ‘As you wish’ meme fromThe Princess Brideand tell her I’ll be leaving in ten minutes.
* * *
“She’s so awesome!”
Monroe has to stand on the tips of her toes to shout in my ear. I pull away and follow her eyes to where Paige is stationed at the small raised DJ booth behind Taverne Toulouse’s tiny dance floor. It’s not enough space to hold everyone who wants to dance tonight; the whole room is a head-bobbing, hip-swaying, fist-pumping mass of booze-fueled bodies waiting for Paige to drop the beat.
It’s not my usual scene, or my usual music, but even I feel the tremors of anticipation gathering in my thoughts, blocking everything else out as the music increases in pitch, straining like a string pulled too tight until it finally snaps and the crowd goes nuts. I catch sight of Paige tossing her head back, eyes closed and mouth stretched wide in an expression of pure and utter joy that I’ve never seen on her before. It’s only a glimpse before the DJ booth is blocked from my view by people jumping around with their hands in the air while the bass continues to pulse and shake the floor under our feet.
“Yeah,” I agree. “She’s awesome.”
Monroe motions for me to bend closer so she can shout into my ear again. “I’m leaving now. Lisanne is on the late shift to help the closers. You, DeeDee, and anyone else who helped with the kegs should all punch out once you finish your orders. Can you spread the word?”
“You sure they’re okay without us?”
She nods. “We’ve got almost the whole staff on tonight.”
I say my goodbyes to her and her boyfriend, surprised they’re leaving so early until I check the clock on the POS system behind the bar and see it’s almost 1AM.
Time flies when you’re serving beer.
I make Monroe’s orders known to the staff. I’m too busy shouting over the noise to notice when DeeDee appears beside me. I turn and find her just inches away, an empty shot tray tucked under her arm and a crown of artificial pink roses framing her face.
She explained the accessory to me earlier, saying, “I was going to make something for April Showers, but what I was supposed to be? A rain cloud? Fuck no. I’m a May Flower, bitches!”
I blink at the sight of her so close to me and try to remember how to breathe.
