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It can be quite hard work during the busy periods, and people sometimes yell at you for forgetting their names and orders, but on the whole you enjoy it, and something about your manner obviously appeals to people, going by the tips.
Wisteria plots her gallery visit as she moves dreamily about her waitressing duties, doing her best to keep orders straight as well.
It's about 2pm, and the lunch 'rush' has quietened down, when the door swings open.
A young woman enters. She is noticeable among the other young adults lazing around the coffee -- she has a long black skirt, long thready black shirt, blue-black hair swept back dramatically, major eye makeup, a silver ankh, and heavy black doc martens on her feet. And she's someone Wisteria knows.
Wisteria cheerfully wanders over with notepad ready, smiling, and trying to recall the context she knows this person from.
She pulls out a chair and flops into it arrogantly, drumming her black laquered nails on the metal table. Then she glances up, and grins as she recognises you. And suddenly you _do_ remember who she is. You know her from college, not well, but you've spoken to her a few times. Her name is Lucretia (or so she claims).
Wisteria's smile brightens further as she makes the connection. "Lucretia! Hi! Oh -- c.n-I-take-your-order?"
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Lucretia makes an OK sign with a finger and thumb. "Hey! Small world," she drawls. "It's Wisteria, right? Am I OK to smoke here?"
Wisteria nods. "Yep! Wisteria. Smoking..." She looks to see if there's an ashtray at this table. "Smoking section is here, sure."
Lucretia brightens, and lights up a clove with a sophisticated wrist-flick of her zippo. "Large skinny latte for me, and whatever you're having, Wis." You know she can be scary sometimes, but she seems friendly enough right now.
Wisteria writes down the order carefully, and then looks around. Not too many people... "Be right back!" she chirps. When she gets back, she has the latte and a small glass of orange juice. "I'll have to keep an eye out for more customers," she warns, matter-of-factly. (And hoping she hasn't misunderstood the indirect invitation to talk.)
"Screw them," the other woman laughs. "I mean, how often do you meet someone you know in a place like this? You have family round here?"
Wisteria shakes her head. "I'm just travelling -- ran out of money here, so I got a job. It's kinda neat," she confides. "But I'm still learning."
From over by the window, where she is curled up, Wisteria's cat expresses her opinion of this place with a casual arch of the back. Nice hot sun. Interesting smells.
Lucretia says thoughtfully, "Work. Now there's a concept."
Wisteria deadpans (though the difference between her earnest sincerity and this is subtle), "I can't get people to give me money otherwise."
Wisteria smiles over at her cat and shifts a little so that one of her own ankles is in the sunbeam. Mmm, yes, nice sun.
Lucretia reflects, "I had a ... friend who was very good at extracting cash from people. He certainly had enough of mine."
Wisteria blinks. "Oh? How'd he do that?" she asks, innocently.
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"Natural charm, I guess." Lucretia laughs suddenly, and takes a deep drag on her cigarette. "But that's all in the past now."
Wisteria nods. "Well, it's an interesting job anyway," she says. "Are you visiting family here?"
Lucretia adds, taking a sip of coffee, "I'm exhibiting some pictures. Y'know?"
Lucretia says, "Do I look as though I might have family in a no-bit place like this? Really, darling!"
Wisteria looks seriously at Lucretia. "Well, I did read a book where the author said she was _from_ a place, and as far from it as possible..." Then she smiles again. "I haven't been to see the gallery yet, but I'm hoping to go tomorrow, or maybe after work if it's still open then. How's the exhibition doing for you?"
Lucretia waves her cigarette in the air artily.
Wisteria sips orange juice and unobtrusively dodges smoke. Her cat doesn't like the smell much on her clothes, after all.
"Very, very well," she grins. "My agent tells me that all my pieces have already been sold, which is good, even Chameleon #2 which I thought was a bit obscure. There's some kind of posh reception tomorrow night. Why don't you come along -- I'll get them to put you on the guest list. It'll be free wine and food ... and you can make up your own mind!"
Wisteria beams. "That sounds great! Thanks!" She pauses. "What should I wear to it?"
Lucretia looks at you, and blows smoke. "Clothes?" she suggests.
Wisteria laughs. "I didn't pack an evening dress, that's all." Grinning, she drains the orange juice cheerfully.
Lucretia says knowingly, "It's all in the attitude. I'm sure you'll find something pretty."
Lucretia asks, "So, are you still into all that New Age crystal shit?"
Wisteria giggles. "It's not _all_ flakes and nuts. But some. Want a tarot reading?"
Lucretia hmms, and taps her nails.
Wisteria says, "I've been thinking about I-ching, but haven't really gotten into it."
"Later, maybe. I can read yours as well, if you like, although really I've moved quite _beyond_ those little crutches now. There is real power in the world, you know." Lucretia nods, a faintly patronising smile on her lips.
Wisteria blinks. "Well, of course." She shrugs. "I guess it's sort of a crutch, but the pictures are nice. What deck are you using these days -- or not using?"
Lucretia drawls, "Thoth. And you?"
Wisteria says, "I got a Robin Wood deck last birthday, and it's got nice vibes, but I'm still hoping for one of the Cat People decks. They're hard to find."
Lucretia nods, and does the patronising smile thing again. "Pretty enough, if you like that sort of thing," she says, implying that liking that sort of thing puts you in the same category as people who like the Spice Girls. "Of course, all that tarot rubbish is a pale shadow of the real thing. Real demons don't bother with them."
Wisteria lets the patronisation run off her like rain. Besides, the comment is more startling. "Demons?"
Lucretia finishes her cigarette and screws the little butt out in the foil ashtray with a confident wrist twist.
Wisteria continues to look at the other woman, eyes wide.
"Oh yeah, and they're sexy as all hell," Lucretia confides. Then she stands, and smooths her skirt.
Wisteria says, uncertainly, "You're kidding, aren't you."
Wisteria is, after all, used to being kidded. People do that sometimes. She's not sure why.
Lucretia smirks, taking a bit longer than necessary to smooth out her skirt. "I never kid, darling."
Wisteria stands up and collects the glasses. "I thought demons were supposed to be ugly," she says, a bit wanly.
Lucretia smiles in a nostalgic way. "Oh, some of them are very pretty, darling -- or handsome, if you prefer it that way." She stretches in such a way that her silver ankh bobs sparklingly. "But you'd better stick with your crystals and your tarot cards. Much safer for you."
Wisteria tilts her head, finally starting to look a little sad. "I guess." She pauses, vaguely wishing she could go over and pet her cat for a moment, then goes back to mundanity. "If you're going to be in the area for a while, drop by anytime. Well, anytime the cafe's open. Or you can call me at the Motel 6 -- I haven't gotten anything else here yet."
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Lucretia's smirk gets wider, if possible, at the mention of the motel's name. "Of course, darling! But I really must get busy. An exhibition to see to, and all that. _Do_ take care, won't you?"
The cat jumps up, and winds its way across the room to rub warmly against Wisteria's ankles.
Wisteria nods. "You too," she chirps, good humor returning with the touch of fur. Then she stoops to pet the cat. She'll have to wash her hands anyway.
Lucretia's lip curls as she looks down at the cat. She turns and sweeps her way out of the cafe as dramatically as she can.
Wisteria returns to her job. After washing her hands dutifully.
Lucretia flounces out of the door. She is clearly heading down the street in the direction of the gallery.
Wisteria watches after her, to make sure she gets there okay. And to scratch cat-ears unobtrusively.
The cat purrs, and expresses an opinion that Lucretia smells bad.
Wisteria nods and whispers, "I know, but it's not nice to tell her so."
Lucretia does indeed reach the gallery -- visible at the end of the street -- safely, and vanishes behind the high double doors with a last swish of her skirt.
Wisteria gets up and returns to work, after washing her hands, and wonders if Lucretia will really put her on the guest list. It sounds like the reception might be fun.
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