Chapter Text
It was humiliating, working a service job again. Michelle cringed every time she clocked in—just like high school, working every free hour to scrape together enough money to move out. Except this time, it wasn’t an abusive father she was avoiding going home to. Not that Ben was all bad. He could be charming and generous, but it didn’t help that his generosity came with strings attached.
Like after he proposed. It was expected that Michelle would give up her apartment and live with him. But now that he was “between jobs” and rent was “difficult”, Michelle was expected to help. Because they were engaged. Because she lived there too. Because she loved him. Or something like that.
The job search wasn’t hard once she realized that a Bachelor of Arts in fashion design wasn’t getting her anywhere. After an awkward rejection from a job she thought she had in the bag, Michelle started applying to every restaurant and bar in the greater New Orleans area. The third or fourth bar that returned her call ended up hiring her to work full-time—O’Halligans, some cheesy Irish pub in a bad part of town. Her coworkers were nice enough and she made a little more than minimum wage, but at the end of the day, it was still service.
At O’Halligans, they put on a monthly Nickel Shot Night, an event which managed to attract every sleazebag, douchebag, and windbag in the downtown area. It was everyone’s least favorite night to work and somehow Michelle was scheduled for every single one.
March’s Nickel Shot Night was no different. Michelle braved the hordes of customers, each one drunker than the last, until she thought she would scream. It was at that moment that a large party of construction workers walked in.
Not that they outright looked like construction workers. They weren’t wearing reflective orange vests or hard hats or the other trappings of the trade. But there was always some project or another downtown and Michelle was used to seeing the slightly grimy men file in for a post-shift beer. They didn’t generally cause problems, but the bigger the group, the higher the collective alcohol intake—and the higher the odds somebody would start shit.
The scream building in Michelle’s throat threatened to escape. It took every ounce of self-control and -respect to keep it down. As the construction workers started their first round of shots, one of them caught her eye.
The man was the only one not drinking, for starters. Designated driver? He had the look of a designated driver, all sideways glances at his peers (already throwing back shots like the world was ending) and slightly gritted teeth. He had kind eyes though, dark from a distance but blue as anything up close, John Deere ballcap pulled firmly over his mess of black hair, with a thick beard to match.
He caught Michelle looking at him and waved her over. “Got any coffee?” he asked, Southern slow.
The request caught her off guard. Nobody had ever asked her for coffee before. There was a decrepit old machine in the back, but it was put to better use as an inside joke among O’Halligan’s employees than as an actual way to procure coffee.
“You know, I think we might,” said Michelle after a long pause. “Give me a minute.”
She turned on her heel and went to the back of house. Strictly speaking, Michelle wasn’t supposed to use the machine for herself, let alone serve a customer from it. She wasn’t even sure if it worked.
(It didn’t.)
Strangely put out she didn’t have coffee for the kind-eyed man at the bar, Michelle returned to the front, but the whole group was gone. Shortly after, a herd of frat guys shouldered their way to the bar and any thought of a dark-haired designated driver was thoroughly put out of her mind.
Notes:
if you caught that john mulaney reference i'll love you forever
Chapter 2: walmart
Chapter Text
Of course Emmett picked the cart with the squeaky wheel. The fucker made a quadruple turn on its axis for every regular spin of its three compatriots—and it sounded like a dying rodent to boot. He was a grown ass man who went grocery shopping all the time, but he always managed to feel like a child while doing it. It didn’t help that he didn’t know the layout of this particular Walmart. He was in New Orleans for a construction job—adding another lane to some dumbfuck highway—and his quick grub stop had turned into more of a side quest by virtue of having no clue where anything was located. He had been puttering around aimlessly for no less than fifteen minutes.
Emmett pulled his hat lower over his eyes, trying to avoid the semi-curious stares he was getting from the locals. All he really needed was canned soup, orange juice, and a loaf of bread, but so far he had found squat.
He was so engaged in staring at the ground that he hardly noticed the other cart coming around the corner. There was a collision and the dying scream of his squeaky wheel pierced the air.
“Oh, I’m sorry-” the dark-haired woman pushing the other cart mumbled.
Emmett picked his gaze up off the floor in a hurry. “Aw shit, no, it was my bad.”
She looked at him intently for a moment, brown eyes peering out from behind her bangs. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Emmett laughed. “Not unless you grew up outside of Lake Charles, Louisiana. Otherwise, I’d say you’re out of luck. Guess I just got one of those faces, huh?”
“Must be…” she trailed off, twisting what looked to be an engagement ring around her finger.
“Hey,” he cut in quickly, “Any chance you could tell me where the soup aisle is? I’ve been wandering around for too damn long, and I’m not even doing the ‘dumb hick’ routine, I swear to God.”
The woman snorted and opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a man walking up and putting his arm around her waist protectively.
“Babe? Is there a problem here?” he said casually, the tightness of his grip betraying his agitation.
“No problem,” Emmett interjected. “I ran my cart into hers on accident.”
The man’s mouth twitched, but the woman spoke before he could. “Soup is in aisle C10,” she said before giving her engagement ring one last turn and tugging her fiancé away.
Emmett watched her walk away. It struck him that she looked almost afraid as the man leaned down to say something in her ear.
(Previous comment deleted.)
nowhereindiana on Chapter 2 Mon 01 Sep 2025 04:28AM UTC
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