Chapter Text
How does one explain the feeling of being stood up for the third time this week? Carol Sturka would describe it as.. typical. Becoming a fucking regular thing... Reason to drink #217.
Usually once her dates searched her name in Google, they tend to stop replying or sometimes not show up at all.
“Author Carol Sturka: Drunken Downfall of Wycaro Creator”
“Carol Sturka: Press Tour? More like Party Tour”
“What’s Next for New York Time’s Best Selling Author? Manager Helen Umstead Quits Publicly at Wycaro Convention”
The past few years have been tough for her romantically. The use of dating apps and speed dating set ups with the local ‘Lesbians Over 50’ group… and of course the few drunken hookups with “OMG, aren’t you that author?” With women who would apparently be ‘No longer interested in pursuing anything’ the morning after.
Typical.. Hurtful. Time to order a drink.
Zosia cleaned the glass in her hand with the dish rag, her eyes locked onto the back of Carol’s head. She sat at the table by the front door of the bar, eyes flickering up every time the door swung open, before slowly looking back at her phone to continue whatever she was doing for the evening.
Behind the bar of ‘The Hunnycomb’, Albuquerque’s newest lesbian bar, Zosia could observe all that goes on in the establishment. Notably so, the Grumpy Blonde who has been showing up pretty regularly now, who comes in for most of the Sunday’s Speed Dating events, as well as a few times a week to have dinner and a drink.. well, a few drinks. Zosia doesn’t judge, after watching the beautiful author get stood up repeatedly over the past few months, she definitely understands the need to drink.
Carol stood abruptly, her chair scraping across the floor as she stands up. Her shoulders drop in a sigh before walking over to the bar, her lips turned into a slight frown as she pulls out a stool at the near-empty counter.
“I even wore the outfit you suggested.” Carol sighed in exasperation, her hands reaching up and pushing her short, choppy blonde hair back. Her eyes flicker to the tall brunette woman behind the bar, who welcomes her with a bright smile.
“Hi Carol.”
Carol smiled at the bartender, she took a quick once over of her acquaintance. Zosia wore a black button down with the sleeves rolled up. In comparison to her own outfit of white button down and dark blue jeans.
Carol couldn’t help but to let her gaze linger on the delicate features of her face.The striking woman wore minimal makeup, with her staple dark burgundy lipstick. She couldn’t help but to observe everything about the woman in front of her. Her smile, her slight accent, the outfit she wears, that same shade of lipstick she wears every single time she sees her, the way she always has a drink ready for Carol after her many, many failed dates.
“Do you think I should just give up?-“ Carol throws the drink in front of her down quickly. The alcohol burns the back of her throat pleasantly, before the taste lands on her tongue. Chocolate and Rum“- what is that? Gah, that is so sweet.”
“Tonight's special.. Bushwacker.” Zosia chuckled, before pouring Carol a glass of cold beer on tap. Her eyebrows furrowed as she places the drink in front of the blonde woman.
“Fuck, you got jokes now.” Carol snickered before bringing the cold beer to her lips, letting the foam coat her upper lip.
“What do you mean.. ‘Give up’?” Zosia questioned softly, her eyes roaming over the author's features looking for any sign of distress.
“This whole dating thing. Romance in general. Dating in my 50s.”
Zosia snorted, her concern falling off her features, going back to her tasks but continuing to stay in front of Carol.
“You’ll find someone soon Carol. I know it.” Zosia smiled warmly at her, continuing to dry the glasses on the counter behind the bar.
“I think Albuquerque will run out of queer women before I can land a date. All of New Mexico will soon run out before I can be in a relationship longer than a few months.” Carol chuckles, licking the foam off her lips.
“That’s not true, Carol.”
“It’s starting to feel like it might be a little true, Zos’” she smiled sadly, before chugging the rest of her beer.
“Carol-“
“Fuck. Damn that’s a good beer.” Carol wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She reached into her back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a twenty dollar bill.
“Carol-“ Zosia reached forward, grasping Carol's hand as it dropped the twenty on the counter. “- don’t give up yet. Please. You are my friend, I want nothing but for you to be happy. Maybe this week's Speed Dating will be successful. We boosted up our advertising. Did you see it? It was in this week's newspaper.” She smiled brightly, her hand still in Carols, her thumb running against the back of her hand soothingly.
Carol's eyes locked on to their joined hands, her pulse beginning to pick up slightly. Becoming very aware of the warmth of her palm and the slight heat of sweat breaking at the points their hands met. She regretfully took her hand away from the Bartenders, dropping it quickly to her side.
“I’ll come if you promise never to let me drink that fucking sweet ass drink ever again.” Zosia smiled brightly, taking the twenty into her hand before pocketing it.
“I promise.”
*
The rest of the night for Zosia was much less uneventful after Carol left. Beautiful women of all types walked in, drank at the bar and stumbled out in the arms of one another.
Around one in the morning, Zosia closed down the bar and locked the doors. Slow night. Sighing softly, she pushed her dark hair into a ponytail down her back, before making her way to the back of the establishment.
“Manousos, do you need help back there?” She rounded the corner of the bar before pushing open the kitchen doors. The smell of cleaning supplies hit her nose before glancing over to the chef by the stove top.
“No.” He grumbled, a man of very few words. He’s been learning English since he moved to the area two years ago, but you’d never know with how little he speaks and his usual standoffish tone.
“You know, I am supposed to help you. My job is to make yours easier. I can’t do that if you finish everything before I even close the bar.” Zosia rolled her eyes playfully.
Manousos turned towards the woman, no emotion beyond his neutral one even flicker onto his face. He sighed before jutting his thumb towards the fridge.
“In the freezer.” He stated, before returning to wiping down the stove.
Zosia pursed her lips before questionably walking towards the small fridge and freezer combo they had for staff, and throwing the door open.
“What am I looking for?” She questioned as she quickly glanced over the contents.
Manousos rolled his eyes before walking straight to the freezer and pulling out a small plastic container. Before shoving it ungraciously into her hands. Zosia looked at the container in question, prying the lid off. A bright smile launched itself onto her face.
“Is this Mango Ice Cream?” She gasped, her eyes searching for Manousos once again, who already was at the stove working again. He grunted softly.
“I am done. Good night.” Without a glance back, he strolled out of the back door of the kitchen.
Zosia smiled before grabbing a clean spoon from the dish rack. Leaning against the countertop in the middle of the kitchen, before dipping her spoon into the ice cream. She hummed in delight when she brought the spoon to her mouth and the first tang of mango hit her taste buds.
Carol.
She smiles as the blonde crosses her mind once again. She thinks about whether Carol ever tried Mango ice cream before. Does Carol even like ice cream? Does Carol think of her after she leaves the bar?
Carol.
She could never read if Carol even liked her a little or if she only was her friend because she provides her with drinks. Her walls are so up, that whenever she tries to flirt with the author, it goes unnoticed.
Zosia moved to New Mexico from Poland when she turned 30. Thirteen years ago. Looking for a new start away from her homophobic parents, to pursue her passions and a career. To be her true self. Her true self of pining after an author that won her over years ago when she first read the Wycaro series. The one who this year started coming to her bar almost every day.
Tongue tied and definitely star struck, she made a fool out of herself trying to talk to Carol. Carol, who would smoothly come up to the bar and tell her she looked gorgeous, who flirted with her every night for a week. But immediately ruined her chances with the author with the words, “Sorry, I'm kind of seeing someone right now and I do not date my customers.” Which wasn’t even targeted at the blonde, but at another woman who had reminded her too much of her bully at the age thirteen. Being hit-on came with the job, and yes, she was a professional, but she'd break every rule for Carol.
But there was Carol, her sad smile having been quickly replaced with one of indifference, throwing back her whiskey and talking to the woman instead. The two left together, and Carol stopped flirting with her.
Professional. Right.
*
Across town, Carol laid curled up in bed. Her phone rested on her hand and pillow, the ‘TindHer’ app’s Home Screen illuminating her face. ‘0 New Matches.’ Whatever.
Left. Right. Left. Left. Left. Left. Is that Ms Wexler? Right. Left.
…
…
…
Zosia?
A small gasp left her lips as Zosia’s smiling face pulled up onto her screen.
Zosia W. 43. 3.9 Miles Away. 🇵🇱
🟢Online