| "My God Vicky, you should have seen it, disaster! I totally fell apart over one silly little wink!" In her embarrassment Chantal sunk her teeth into the Turkey and wry sandwich she had ordered at the pub then looked up at her bartender buddy with big eyes as though waiting to hear the verdict. "Hey, don’t worry about it Chanty, I mean if this guy was as gorgeous as you say he is… well there’s no shame in it." "Oh goodness," Chantal said dropping her now sad looking lunch onto the platter with a small clang. "There’s another thing, these guys, I mean what do they do, are they just a bunch of rich daddies boys? My employer drives a firkin Aston Martin for God sakes! What do these guys do all day to afford cars like that? Hang out at each other’s houses and compare manicurists, that’s what they must do. I’ve never seen my employer leave for an entire day and go to work like a normal person. He’s out every night and then brings home some new model type every other evening." "Gee, it must be nice to live off dad’s money. Then there’s the rest of us just trying to make the bloody rent." Vicky slammed a pilfer down on the table rather roughly reminding Chantal of her distaste for the upper class. "Well at least one of em finally noticed me. And it’s about darn time as well." "Aye, cheers to that Chanty." Vicky slid her a pint of Newcastle across the polished wood. "Now, drink up, your going to need it to put up with that crossed eyed tosser of a boss you’ve got yourself there." Chantal lifted the glass and muttered into the beer. "I wish he were crossed eyed. Be real easy to talk to him then, just like the twins at sleep-overs in middle school." She shook her head then quickly shot back a mouth full, before wrinkling her nose. "God, why do you guys drink this stuff room temperature…" Vicky tossed down a towel and raised her voice. "And why you Yanks insist on this rinky tink ice cold bollocks." "Hey our beer comes from the Rocky Mountains, our Coors is cold because it was born that way." They were full into a friendly kicking contest by then. "Look mate, I don’t see what your little mountains have to do with it." "Snow on the mountains. Coors is made with it! Now there is some real beer. You guys like everything hot, even your fricken tea…" "Oh God! Chanty! It’s two ‘o clock. Time for Tea Time Tunes. Corr, How could I have forgotten?" Without another word Vicky jumped up on the bar to flip on the ancient television in the corner while Chantal groaned rather audibly. "Oh come on Vick, anything but that." "Yeah put on some football." It was frank the cook finally putting in his two cents for the day. "Frank! We always watch footie. I want to see my videos." And with that she planted her toosh firmly on the bar stool right next to Chantal. Chantal rolled her eyes as Boy George and a rive boat came onto the screen and she began to focus wholly on her sandwich. Once the sandwich was devoured and Vick was humming quite happily to Cindy Lauper Chantal took a long look at her beer and wondered if getting a bit tipsy, just a bit, would help her deal with her employer. Yeah! She thought to herself. He probably wouldn’t notice me if I was swinging from the chandeliers! Still, it sounded rather tempting and with that Chantal began to drink happily. Suddenly Vicky let out a big sigh that almost distracted Chantal from forcing down the warm glop, almost. "Boy oh boy, if your new mystery man looks half as good as that lead singer there he’d be quite a catch." Rolling her eyes Chantal looked casually up towards the screen then just as quickly locked her eyes there. "Oh my word, Vicky, he looks exactly like that!" Vicky, who had been riveted to the TV screen all afternoon now looked right at Chantal who was still staring and quite lack jawed at the screen. "Chanty, are you serious, he looks like the singer?" "The man could be his twin!" Finally the American broke her contact from the screen. "Is his name Simon?" "Yes!" Vicky had now dropped her wet cloth and matched Chantal’s wide eyed look. Then her eyes narrowed as Chantal’s returned to the screen. "Chanty if you’re joking me…" It was right then that Chantal screamed rather loudly and without much aplomb let her beer drop back to the bar with a dull thud. "Chanty? What is it?" Now Vicky began to get concerned when Chantal in her very loud and unmistakable American accent yelled out "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What in the hell is my employer doing crawling around on a beach with a machine gun!" Vicky followed the gaze to see said man and a woman with a tropical drink being pored all over her. The man gave a down right evil grin and Chantal was once more up in arms. "What! Why is Mr. Taylor intentionally looking sexy there?! Why? What is he a model or something!?" She was down right hysterical know, this was not suppose to happen in her nice quiet life. People that she knew were not on TV! "Chanty, he’s the bass player for the band. Simon’s the singer." "What? No he can’t be. I’ve never once heard a bass or seen a bass, absolutely not." "Absolutely yes. Man when you said you were working for a Mr. Taylor, never in all my dreams did I think of him! There’s so many Taylors and yet… Wait a minute. How did you not know this?!" Eyes locked to the screen trying to absorb as much of the colorful locale as she could Chanty shrugged her shoulders. "Like I said, I didn’t know what he did, didn’t even know if he worked for a living… he’s got a locked room I’m not to go in…" Chantal was distracted by the small print that popped up in the bottom corner of the screen. "Duran Duran, what kind of name is that?" "Locked room? He’s got a locked room, why haven’t you gone in?" Voices were steady rising by the second. "Sheesh! Three Taylors, Le Bon, geeze speaking of French…is that his real last name?" "Hello! Chanty, about this room…" "I’ll be darned, wait until I write home about this. Dear Mom, did I mention my handsome boss also happens to be a rock star? That would explain the leather pants." "What about the bloody ro…leather trousers?" "Hey!" Frank yelled from the kitchen finally pulling both of the girls from their own worlds of thought. "The way you two are screaming, you might as well be watching a footie game! Now turn the telly already!" For once Vicky didn’t argue as she jumped up and flipped the switch. This was about the time Chantal decided to check her watch and realized she was already 5 minutes late! "Oh my, holy cow! I gotta go! I’m late. Whoa, going back to rock star." "Two rocks stars you lucky tart!" Vicky jumped down and smiled at her buddy. "Oh and Chanty, if you are joking, I fully intend to kick you back to those icy mountains you’re always whining for." "I’ll prove this to you Vicky, just you wait!" With that Chantal was once again running out of a door. |
| Maid For You |
| Part two |
 |
|
| Back to part one of "Maid For You" |
| Back to the story index. |
 |
| On to Part three of Maid for You |