FicWad

Nevaeh's alarm rang. The loud shrilling rang and rang,prompting Nevaeh (and everyone else in the house) out of a sound sleep. She rolled over, still half-asleep, and fumbled to turn off the clock radio. Five minutes of bringing later and she was fed up. She grabbed the switchblade that she kept on her bedside table and, flicking it open, shoved it full force into the middle of the warm clock. The noise faded, warbled, then died.
"Goddamn shitty alarm clocks," Nevaeh swore sleepily as she rolled out of her big comfy bed. Yawning and stretching she reached a hand up to scratch the rats nest that was her hair. She padded out to the bathroom wondering the question she wondered every morning. Why is it that people always have to pee when they get up? No fail, every morning it was the first place she went. Well, if you call 3:30 in the afternoon morning. She sure did. Came with working nights. Only mornings she saw were the 3 a.m. mornings.
Finishing up in the bathroom, she washed her hands (that's right kids, proper hygienge is cool), and did the one thing she shouldn't have, looked in the mirror.
God, bedhead much? Frick hair this looked like a nest. It was a surprise birds weren't sitting on their eggs in there. But then with the amount of hair she had and the condition it was in, there very likely could be. Nevaeh scrunched up her face and stuck out her tongue, making her reflection even more twisted and repulsive. Sticking her nose the air she headed out of the bathroom. Screw the mirror, who cared how she looked? She'd fix it before work...if she felt like it.
She padded down to the kitchen, adjusting the thermostat on her way down. Man, this apartment was always cold, even in summer. But then Canada was always cold. Nevaeh, being a Canadian through and through, could outrightly say she hated Canada. It was too fucking cold! But should non-Canadians try saying that, oh boy, watch out! That was just rude and ignorant. Nevaeh could go on for hours, telling them all the good things about Canada. The beautiful landscape, the food (poutine anyone-and I don't mean that fakeass stuff-I mean the wonderful plates full of hot, crispy fries smothered with gravy topped by loads of melting cheese), the shopping (West Edmonton Mall rocks!), hockey, lacrosse, beavers, Canadian beer, the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms (only good thing the government ever did, Except s.33(1)-The Notwithstanding Clause-that was an idiotic mistake), the friendly people, Newfie jokes, P.E.I. potatoes, wheat, canola flowering in the summer, Tim Hortons, Jim Carrey (he's Canadian, score 1 for Canada), no George Bush, Hedley (or more importantly, Jacob Hoggard, score 2 for Canada), all the great Canadian music, Canadian Idol (Americans may have had it first but Canadians do it better-no Randy or Paula and no goddamn Ryan Seacrest, and most of our contestants are hot-Tyler Lewis, Jacob Hoggard, Rex Goudie, Brandon Jones, Craig Sharp, Chad Doucette, Rob James, and-so I've been told-Kalan Porter)...and that's usually when she realizes the people have walked away tired of her incessant talking.
Author's Note-Yes, I know that's what most of you are doing right now...walking away. But if you are, then you're a loser. And no, I'm not mean, people are just sissys.
Matt, one of her roommates, and her best friend, was plopped in front of the t.v., watching the Weather Network. Oh, how boring things amuse underdeveloped minds...or men, take you pick of words.
"Morning, Matty," she said, walking in front of the t.v.
"Get your fat ass out of my road," was Matt's reply. God he was a crank in the mornings.
"What? Afraid you're going to miss some earth-shattering weather report?"
"Yes. What if the hot weather lady suddenly decides to do her weather report in the nude and I miss it? Wouldn't you feel bad if I missed it?"
"Matty, that only happens in your dreams, not in real life."
"Not in every dream. Last night I dreamt that the three of us had a little mengie-a-trois on this here couch," he protested, grinning, patting the couch cushion beside him.
"Perve," someone yelled from the kitchen.
"Don't pretend you've never had naughty dreams about me there Krissy," Matt screamed back.
"Never," the voice from the kitchen replied.
Nevaeh cut in. "That's true. Don't forget Matty, her wet dreams are inspired by that drummer from the bad she loves."
"Yeah true," Matty agreed. "Now move."
Nevaeh feigned hurt as she walked into the kitchen. She was hungry and she could swear there was a bowl of Cap'n Crunch screaming her name. As she entered the kitchen, Krissy, her baby sister and other roommate, stuck her tongue out at her.
"By the way, his name's Spencer and he's the drummer for Panic!at the Disco," Krissy said, tossing Nevaeh the Cap'n Crunch.
Nevaeh poured herself a bowl and sat down beside her sister before continuing.
"What is it with you and drummers anyway?"
"They're better lays."
Authors Note-I'm a drummer and that's so true.
"Okay then...so did not want to hear that."
"Haven't you ever heard-save a drum, bang a drummer. Well, I'm out to save every drum on this planet."
"Krissy!" Nevaeh screamed, crumbs of her cereal flying out of her mouth. But Krissy was already high-tailing it out of the room.
"Make sure you're ready for work at 4:30," Nevaeh screamed after her.
"Yay, another day of wearing a tux!" came the distant reply.
Nevaeh chuckled and took her bowl of cereal upstairs with her to get ready for work. She had had a shower last night, so she figured she could skip one now. There was a big function at work tonight so she wanted to get to work a little early. Some band had booked Salons A, B, and C for a small concert tonight.
Author's Note-Salons A, B, and C are all right next to each other. There are collapsable walls so the rooms can be interlinked. Most times the rooms are filled with tables and chairs-8 round tables per salon with eight seats at each, plus 3 buffet tables, a removable podium, 2 coffee stations, and usually an extra table or two for whatever-this is per salon.
Nevaeh did have one up on Krissy though. There was a toonie bar in the room tonight and Nevaeh was assigned to bartend. Apparently Lance and Kelly-her bosses-had figured she fit in better with the crowd tonight than some of the other people on staff. Bartenging was great because on most night bartenders don't have to wear the uniforms. It wasn't really ugly or anything, just annoying. Black button-down, black vest, black pants, black shoes, black socks, black belt, hair up. All that black could really get on someone's nerves. But good thing the black was split up by the lovely grey ties and nametags.
Nevaeh started digging through her drawers for something suitable to wear. She had been instructed to wear something "rock-and-roll" but still work appropriate. She had no idea what would be classified as "rock-and-roll" so she just figured she'd wear what she usually did. Clothes went everywhere, thrown on the bed, the floor, the loveseat, wherever. Krissy came into the room during the middle of this clothes finding session, uniform on, looking as hot as ever. Nevaeh looked up at her and scowled. She was always being told how hot her sister was. And she hated to admit it, but Krissy was gorgeus. No matter what, she never gained a pound, never got a pimple. And she was tall. Nobody ever guessed they were sisters.
"I'm busy, get out," Nevaeh snapped. Krissy, being used to her sisters moods, flipped her off and walked out. Nevaeh surveyed the mess of her room and shook her head. Grabbing randomly, she changed into jeans and her favorite t-shirt-the one with Oscar the Grouch proudly proclaiming Emo Sucks. She grabbed her favorite hoodie in case it was cold at work and ran into the bathroom. Now came the hard part, figuringt out what the hell to do with her hair. It was her pride and joy, waist length, thick and shiny. But it was a pain to do. She looked at her reflection and sighed. Fuck this, she'd leave it loose. She had to go. She ran back downstairs where Krissywas sitting on the couch waiting for her. She slipped her feet into her favorite broken-in red Converse and turned to Krissy, who got up.
"Bye, Matty, you loser," the girls called over their shoulders.
The two girls headed out of their fourplex and ran to Nevaeh's car. Man, it was freezing out. Nevaeh hoped her car would start. It was an old Dodge Acadia, a boat maybe, but a car nonetheless. The problem was it was tempermental, it just didn't like to start. but today seemed to be thier lucky day, the car started no problem. Krissy popped in a c.d. as Nevaeh pulled out of the tenant parking lot behind the buildings and started the all to familiar drive to work. The sound of Buck Cherry's Crazy Bitch filled the car. The girls bobbed along to the music, singing along to every song on the mixed c.d. they knew the words to. As Nevaeh neared the Tim Hortons she turned to Krissy. "Timmy's?" she asked. "Large double double," Krissy replied. They pulled into the drive through, Nevaeh cutting the music. She leaned out her window and shouted her order into the intercom. They drove up through, paid, and within five minutes were at work.
The girls entered through the staff doors, laughing and chatting all the way. They dropped their stuff that they had brought into their lockers in the changing room and headed out to the salons. They walked in and said hello to the rest of the staff working that night-Steffi, Chad, Marina and Jordon. Nevaeh walked over to the corner where her bar for the night was set up and started getting everything ready for the night-cutting up lemons and limes, making sure she had plenty of highballs, shot glasses, ceaser cups, beers cups, etc. She started her run from the liquor room to the bar, bringing in bottle after bottle of liquor. She made sure she had plenty of water and hooked up the soft drink hose.
By the time she was done, the room was ready and the roadies were busy bringing in equipment. She sat watching them for a while, a couple roadies coming to buy water from her at some points. She was just just about to go on break when a tall young guy walked up to the bar.
"Hey," he said. Nevaeh looked at him. Good-looking guy in a unpretentious way, kind of soft spoken.
"Hey," Nevaeh answered. She could see him lean forward to catch what she was saying. By now she was used to it. But she also figured that at 5 feet, her voice shouldn't be that loud. "Let me guess, water," she said, grinnning.
He smiled back, which made him look almost kidlike. "Yeah, how'd you guess?"
"That's what everybody has ordered so far," she answered, handing him a bottle.
"How much?" he asked, rooting in the pockets of his rather tight, rather girly jeans.
"2 dollar."
"Wow, water sure got expensive."
"Well, if you don't want to pay, you could always melt some snow."
"Yeah, but with my luck I'd grab a yellow chunk."
"That's the best tasting stuff."
He laughed...a cute kidish laugh and handed her the money.
"So are you the bartender tonight?"
"Yep...guess I'm the oh-so-lucky one."
"And yet you don't sound overenthused."
Nevaeh laughed. "Well as long as the band don't suck and there's not a lot of teeny bopping groupies."
"The bands not too bad and groupies...well you get them everywhere."
"Don't I know it...So I take it you've heard the band play?"
"Yeah, they're not half-bad. By the way, I'm Brendon."
"Nevaeh."
"Well, it was great to meet you Nevaeh but I gotta go do my job. But I'll see you later."
"Kay. Have fun."
"I'll try."
He walked away. Nevaeh glanced after him. He was pretty nice. She walked away, going to take her break.