Workin' For A Living - New Melbourne - (Part 4)

Ian Vanderhull was apparently nursing his midlife crisis by making sure there were plenty of attractive women to fawn over him… or rather… his money. It wasn’t that he was unattractive per se, it was more a case of the more you listened to him, the less attractive he seemed.

Still, she had a job to do and as for Ian, he needed a drink.

“I believe there will be a toast soon, Mr. Vanderhull?” Cyd said, sidling up beside him with a tray of champagne flutes and one tumbler. “For your birthday, that is.” She wasn’t sure if that was fact or fiction, but she needed him to take a glass. “Unless you prefer something else? The bartender said Jack on the Rocks was your drink of choice?” She held the tray out to him as his gaggle of gold-diggers grabbed at the glasses. The area reeked of Jasmine, the fishmongers ‘favorite scent.’ It was enough to make anyone’s eyes water. She’d done her homework but didn’t want it to look like she’d done homework, obviously, these women stopped at page one. Two of his admirers put the champagne back claiming they’d like the same thing because giggle-giggle surprise, it was their favorite drink too! Nauseating. Fishsticks gave Cyd a wry grin and took one of each. Cyd sent a look back, the same one she’d use if someone pulled up in a really flashy car or knew one of her favorite DJs, something that conveyed how impressed she was even though he literally just removed two drinks from a tray and nothing else.

“Hey, Blue, Is that your real hair color?” He teased, using an inspired pet name as she spun to walk off.

Cyd smiled back, making sure he saw her check him out. “Only one way to be sure,” she shrugged, playing with the black lace choker around her neck.

“About that Jack and Coke,” one of the gaggle said in an irritated tone.

“Bar’s that way,” Cyd let her know, eyeing Fishsticks one more time. Fishsticks made a show of downing his Jack on ice as Cyd turned, catching Isaac’s eye.

Isaac moved in so smoothly, one might have thought he snuck his board with his whisper-quiet lekker trucks into the soiree. He wove through the crowd of hangers-on, flashing an oversized smile and giving an obsequious nod to each as he collected their drained flutes onto his empty tray. He worked the crowd with his overly sweet deference as he made his way to his target. Rich folk loved being doted on by "the help" and he must have been playing them upright, what with the complimentary murmurs about "how wonderful the service is this year". Isaac sidled up to the man of the hour just as Master His Lordship Baton von Vanderhull was finishing gulping down his mixed drink while eye humping the teen's sister. The tumbler was a brilliant move on Cyd's part. It helped to make it stand out on the tray that was quickly filling with flutes. He'd have to make a point to thank her later.

"Sir?" Isaac saved his brightest most servile smile for the guest of honor as he gently poked his tray forward for Mr. Vanderhull to relieve himself of his now empty glass. The young man's voice managed to draw Vanderhull's attention away from Cyd just long enough to turn and nearly elbow into the flutes that were already on the tray were it not for Isaac's fast reflexes pulling it back just enough to dodge the oaf's errant limb. He gave a nod and maintained his fawning smile as if to say "Completely my fault entirely, m'lord, I'm sure!" Vanderhull took in the teen's appearance, his almond eyes and mocha skin juxtaposed by his sandy hair, and snidely quipped "Didn't know they came in blonde" before looking to his little coterie who immediately laughed at his little joke at Isaac's expense. Awesome. A racist. he thought to himself as he feigned a laugh along with the others and added "Only one way to find out for sure" just loud enough for Vanderhull to hear as he gave a sly smirk, turned on his heels and slipped away, leaving Vanderhull choking from the embarrassing proposition.

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