Meet-Cute

Hey-- Just a note to the reader: As always with my posts, if you just want the fiction scroll down till you see the asterisks and the story will follow.  Skip the diary part if you want :)

 Good Morning.

Sometimes you feel like a nut, sometimes you don't.

A truism.

Sometimes I feel really good about things. Sometimes I don't.

I wish there were a candy bar for that.

Ugh. 

Aaron's story was fantabulous. Walt & Clancy! Now I'm looking forward to what happens when they reach CF. Look Out!

I am also looking very much forward to Yelling Pigeon's new story and I hear Yell's partner-in-crime is also writing us a salacious tale of intrigue so I am actually glowing with excitement that we're all having fun, being creative and playing along. I have the very best friends in all the world and I am lucky and don't even feel I deserve them.

So, if you haven't tried, i encourage you to please, please give it a try. It is super fun and there's no pressure and it feels awesome and satisfying and exciting. And who the fuck gives a shit, right? It's going to be summer soon, just relax, grab a glass of wine and go to town!

On a related note: My dear friend is very very close to having her little one and I am so antsy it is driving me bananas-- though I imagine my anxiety and impatience must be like one billionth of what hers is right now! It is just so exciting to think that in a matter of days there will be a whole new person in our life! I think about this, seriously, like every twenty minutes or so. Anyway, wishing my BFF all the luck and love a girl can!

So. What next?

By fucking popular demand, (lol, danielle, since you are the most avid reader (thanks again for that) you get to be the Vocal Majority and what the populace wants the populace gets...), we are going to revisit Grey and Maggie for a lil bit. Makes a nice change from incest I guess. ha.

To be honest? I fucking love writing for both these characters. I have like tons and tons of little vignettes of these two and am not sure where to start. But, being trained in musical theatre and holding a master's degree in theatre education, I feel secure in the knowledge that musicals can always teach us something; SO, in the immortal and iconic words of Miss Julie Andrews as Maria, "Let's start at the very beginning..." and it is a very good place to start indeed.

If you've been following through my jumble of posts, you'll remember that Grey dated Maggie for a time, dumped her cuz he's a bit of a bastard, but turns out she was knocked up, so she comes a knockin'-- he thinks she wants an abortion which he's psyched about, but turns out she's a good catholic girl and she thought he was going to marry her, he's like 'fuck no' but she's like 'oh hell yes', he tries to buy her off (first by attempting to blackmail Jonah(second story), then by asking his real father for the cash) but she's not having it and kinda blackmails him into marriage. They end up at city hall, now they're hitched but he's fairly resentful,She meets the mom, she's like yikes! his parents are thrilled, her dad is like: dios mio, they haz brunch, and there's a pre-nup but Grey's trying to explore his options for getting out of the whole thing, and meanwhile Velvet sends them on a honeymoon, so maggie asks for time off from her job at the wine store and That's what you missed on GLEE! No, wait... Ok, so I can't wait to take you on their 'honeymoon' but I have decided I WILL wait and bring you back to the day they met instead. YUP.

Ps: hope you enjoy the easy linkage.  I love you.  You're welcome.  

Hope you enjoy.

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Maggie’s class schedule left Fridays free.  Her friends had been envious until she told them she intended to use the open time slot to pick up an extra day at the Wine Shoppe.  They’d been fairly disgusted that she’d waste such a miraculous boon by choosing to spend it working.

She failed to mention the schedule change to her father.  If he knew she had an open day she knew she’d end up at the restaurant.  So she didn’t lie precisely, she’d always had difficulty lying to her father; she simply omitted that piece of information.  He didn’t need to know.

Maggie enjoyed Friday mornings at Delaney’s Wine Shoppe.  She opened alone and the mornings were always slow and relaxed. She enjoyed pricing bottles of wine, enjoyed dusting, enjoyed having the time to daydream; daydreaming and quiet moments were a luxury in her normally busy life. 

Admittedly she felt guilty at first, when she’d been hired and begun work there.  It was too quiet.  Too slow.  She was concerned that she wasn’t doing enough, that somehow she’d missed something in the training, because surely there must be something more to do, to get done.

She took it upon herself to reorganize the stock room, mop the sales floor, tidy the office, wash and re-wash the wine glasses used for bi-weekly tastings.  She’d never known a job where bringing a crossword puzzle or a book to be appropriate.  She took to quizzing herself on wine varieties to improve her sales.  She felt on-edge because of the quiet of the shop.

Every time Mr. Delaney stopped by she would nervously ask if there was anything else she could help him with.  Was she supposed to be doing the books as well? Should she be placing purchase orders?  Would he like her to pre-set gift baskets in case there was a rush on them?

Nolan Delaney had smiled his very warm and charming smile and reassured her that she was doing a fabulous job, he appreciated all she’d been doing and told her to relax.

He’d also told her that a lot of his regular customers had been highly complementary about her service.  She’d blushed.  It was a lot different than working for her father.

Today as she turned her key in the lock and slipped into the still-dark shop she smiled.  After she entered the security code she took a moment to look around.  She’d only been working there since the beginning of the summer, just after her high-school graduation, and already she loved the place.  She said a small prayer of thanks again for Nolan deciding to hire her for the position despite her lack of knowledge about the product and despite her relative youth.  She knew he was taking a bit of a chance on her, and she was grateful.

She hummed a little to herself as she set about her opening duties.  She counted the money in the register and entered the amount in the computer.  She turned the lights on and put out the adorable “OPEN” flag outside, she changed the a-frame blackboard information about the upcoming wine tasting, and headed to the back to make sure everything was in order out there. 

The temperature on the walk-in was fine—they’d been having trouble with that lately—the restrooms had sufficient toilet paper and paper towels, and Maggie saw Mr. Delaney had left her several cases of wine to be priced and shelved. 

Then she froze.  Resting atop one of the cases was the biggest, angriest, most dangerous looking hornet she’d ever seen in her life.  Or maybe it was some kind of wasp.  She couldn’t be sure, but one look at it and she was sure it would hurt when it stung her.  She eyed it, trying not to panic and it seemed to be sizing her up as well, its antennae twitching, its mean little eyes unnervingly un-blinking. 

She backed away from it very slowly and tried to determine the best course of action.  She knew it had to be dealt with, and right away, because she couldn’t risk the thing finding his way out of the back and into the main body of the shoppe—what if he stung a customer?!  And it was her sole responsibility.  She was the only one there.  At her father’s restaurant there was always someone there to take care of this sort of thing, always a cousin or an uncle or some other employee to call on for these tasks. 

But this little drama was hers alone to handle, and though that was alarming, it was also sort of empowering.  She stared the hornet down, silently asking St. Francis to impel the creature to remain still, keep him there on the cardboard case because she knew he’d be a lot easier to deal with on a surface than if he took flight.  At the restaurant someone always rolled up a newspaper and bludgeoned any flying insects and that always made her vaguely upset, though she told herself it was necessary.  Now she wondered if there might be another way.

Because she wasn’t terribly confident in her ability to aim and strike true on the first try and she did not want to miss, knowing full well that all hell would break lose if she swatted and he yet lived; her cousin Hugo had had quite a nasty episode like that the previous summer, and not only had he been stung mercilessly but he’d wreaked havoc in the kitchen, upturning pots and pans, breaking plates and spilling containers in his mad flurry of flailing arms.  She swallowed and looked around at cases of very expensive wines and thought about the racks and racks of even more expensive wine bottled laid out like dominoes in the shop beyond. No.  A rolled up newspaper was not a wise option here.

But what then?  She cast her glance around the back room hurriedly, not really wanting to take her eyes off the hornet for too long.  With a leap of excitement in her breast, her eyes fell on one of her other tasks for the day: An entire stack of clean wine glasses that needed to be brought out front in preparation for the wine tasting that evening.  An idea formed in her brain and she prayed for the courage to follow through.

A few minutes later, shaking but triumphant, she was walking very slowly and carefully out of the back room and into the store with an irate hornet securely imprisoned in an upturned wineglass atop a manila envelope. Her knees tickled a little, thinking of how close she’d had to creep and how careful she’d had to be in order to secure him in this makeshift cage.  She tried not to think too hard about how angry he was going to be when she released him outside.  She prayed he’d fly away instead of turning on her, but she planned on running either way.

She kept her eyes fixed squarely on the furious insect as she navigated her way around a long row of wine racks and halted tensely when the electronic tone of the Shoppe door sounded.  It was early for a customer, but the shoppe was technically open.  She groaned inwardly at having to be caught in this predicament, but she was past the point of no return now so she checked that the manila folder was pressed firmly to the rim of the glass before looking up with a smile to say “Good Morning—“

And she wasn’t able to finish the greeting, wasn’t able to manage ‘Welcome to Delaney’s Wine Shoppe’ because she was staring at the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen in real life.  And she really was staring too.  Openly.  Like an idiot.  He had these big, pale green eyes and perfect, dark stubble and an amazing smile that honestly clouded her thinking.  He was gorgeous.  Tall and lean and well dressed and she felt ridiculous and embarrassed for gaping at him.

“Good morning.”  He responded smoothly, smiling that dazzling smile at her.  His green eyes flicked to the makeshift contraption she was holding out before her and he cocked an eyebrow.  “For me?”

She looked down and blushed.  It did look as though it were some kind of offering, the way she was holding it so carefully and so far away from her body.  She laughed nervously.  “No, no, um” Oh saints-in-heaven her voice sounded so strange and she couldn’t think of a single clever thing to say to him.  “I just didn’t want to kill it.”  She said lamely and frowned at her own dullness.

But he smiled.  “I’ll get the door.”  He said after a moment passed with her simply standing there, staring at him.

“Oh, oh, thank you.”  She said, finally mobilized by his gentle suggestion.  She moved a little more quickly than she had been, but cautioned herself not to be too hasty, lest she trip and spill the hornet into the store.  As she approached he moved to hold the door open for her, but he did it in such a way that she almost had to squeeze past him on her way through the threshold, at least it felt awfully close when she moved past him and smelled his cologne and heard a soft chuckle rumble in his throat.  She didn’t brush him, but she was afraid she might, might make contact with his chest as he held the door open with one long arm, might graze the fabric of his expensive looking shirt.  Lord in Heaven he looked like a movie star or something.

Once out in the sunshine of the quaint downtown she felt able to breathe a little better and then glanced around, looking for a place to set the hornet down.  She didn’t want to just lift the wine glass and hope for the best; a mother was strolling down the sidewalk with a toddler hanging onto her hand and across the street an elderly couple was window shopping.  Worse than getting stung herself would be causing these innocents to meet that unpleasant fate.

She heard a chuckle beside her and turned to see that the handsome customer had followed her out of the shop and was watching her moral dilemma with amused interest.  She swallowed and managed a small smile at him.  She wished he’d stayed inside.  She felt like a complete fool with him watching.

“Want some help?”  He asked.  His voice was warm and velvety and she liked it.  She liked it more than was healthy to like a complete stranger’s voice.  He didn’t wait for her answer, which was probably for the best because she was having trouble finding her voice.  She stood, nibbling her lower lip as he strolled toward her and examined the hornet’s containment.  He was very close to her now and she realized she was holding her breath.  “May I?” He asked, lifting his bewitching green eyes from the hornet to meet her gaze.

She didn’t really know, one hundred percent, what permission he was seeking, but she nodded her consent anyway. He smiled and she thought he was the sexiest thing alive.  Then she said a quick prayer of contrition for allowing herself to think like that.

Carefully but confidently he moved his hands toward her and placed one hand under hers where she pressed the manila folder up to the wineglass, and his other covered the bulb of the glass.  Electric tingles erupted along the length of her arm from where his hand was covering hers and she knew she was blushing furiously.  She hoped he was sufficiently fixated on the task at hand to fail to notice this embarrassing fact.

“Ok, you can let go, I’ve got him.” 

She lifted her hand from the upturned base slowly, but he did seem to have the situation well in hand.  Next she needed to deal with the hand that was trapped between his own and the folder.  That would be more tricky. 

He chuckled again.  “Just do it slowly.”  He warned, and shifted his hand a fraction to allow her room to slide hers out without upsetting the precarious little prison too much.  Every centimeter she moved her hand felt exhilarating as it slid against his skin and she admonished herself roundly for being so silly.  But he smelled so good, and his hands were strong and large and he was so good looking and he was helping her with the hornet and that smile was enough to make her a giddy mess.

When she finally managed to extricate herself she took a few steps backward and forced herself to breathe.  She felt like she was in some intense bomb-defusing sequence in an action movie, and she felt ridiculous because it was so much fuss over such a little creature.

“Ok, now, maybe you can be ready at the door?”  He suggested as he moved several paces down the block away from her.

She nodded vigorously and manned her post by the door, ready to open it at his command.  She had the absurd urge to call out ‘be careful’, just like the damsel always did in those summer blockbusters, but she managed to keep her mouth shut and spare herself the embarrassment that such an impulse would doubtlessly yield.  She watched him crouch down and couldn’t help admiring the athletic curve of his backside before forcing herself to look elsewhere.  He cautiously laid the manila envelope across the top of a squarely trimmed hedge that graced the entryway of the neighboring store and he freed his one hand with a triumphant little smile. 

Next he flashed her a grin and nodded, indicating that she should be alert, this was the moment.  He turned back to the bush, and her eyes widened as he flicked the bulb of the glass a few times.  What in heaven’s name was he trying to do?  Make the thing even more irate?  Then he seemed to tense his muscles momentarily and then ripped the wineglass off the folder and scooted back toward her, laughing a little, and she managed to open the door and rush inside just in time.  He pulled the door shut behind them and tried to peer down the block.  “We made it.”  He said, making a play at sounding a bit like an action star and she grinned.  He looked down at her where she was standing a little too close, and his grin softened into a different sort of smile, the sort that made her knees tingle and her belly flip over and her lips part just a hair. 

She blinked rapidly and stepped back, stepped away from his heat and his subtle cologne and his perfect stubble and away from that dangerous smile.  “Thank you so much.”  She said, taking the now hornet-less wine glass from him and moving toward the counter and the cash register.  She felt the sudden need to put some kind of barrier between herself and him.  “Sorry about all that.  Can I help you find anything?”  Her quick and determined retreat to behind the sales counter belied her helpful offer and when she finally reached her safety zone and looked once more at him she thought his smile was a knowing one.  He knew the effect he’d had on her.

“I was glad to be of service.”  He said amiably, moving into the store.  “I think I’ll browse around a bit.”

She huffed quietly.  She wasn’t sure if she liked the idea of this god-like specimen hanging around for too long.  She felt jittery and silly and not quite herself.  “Of course.”  She said automatically.  “Let me know if I can help.”  But please don’t ask me to help, she thought desperately.

She watched him and tried not to watch him as he wandered the store.  She tried to busy herself with things around the counter, but most of her duties, most of the things she could be doing, would necessitate her leaving the safety of the sales counter and venturing closer to him.  When she’d just rearranged the pens in the pen-cup for the third time he spoke.

“How long have you been working here?”  He asked conversationally.  She was asked this question fairly frequently.  Mr. Delaney was a very popular fellow and he had a loyal customer base.  Maggie often found customers were outright disappointed to see her behind the counter instead of the owner and she couldn’t really blame them.  Although she’d learned quickly and was able to make some solid recommendations, she was still a novice when it came to wine; and though she did her best to field questions about vintage or region or various lines that they carried she often came up frustratingly inadequate when customers wanted Nolan Delaney’s affable expertise.

“Only since the summer.”  She apologized with her tone.

He nodded thoughtfully.  “But Friday mornings?”  So he was a regular enough customer to know she was new to Fridays.

“Yeah, I just started Fridays last week.  I’m usually in on Wednesdays and Tuesday nights as well as Sunday afternoon.”  She willed herself to shut up.  He didn’t need her whole life story for God’s sake; the first part of the answer would have sufficed.

He smiled lightly.  “Nolan won’t be in this morning then?”

Inwardly her heart sank a little.  She hated disappointing customers just by virtue of being the new girl, just by being anybody-but-Nolan.  “I’m afraid not.”  She said sweetly.  “Maybe I can help?”  Even she sounded doubtful.

“Oh, of course,” he said graciously.  “I was only curious.”

She wanted to believe that, but her brief history at the shoppe had taught her to expect him to browse around for a few more minutes, inquire as to the next time Mr. Delaney would be in, and then leave with a polite smile but without a purchase.  At least this young man was being kind to her.  Some customers treated her with outright disdain, like she’d been an inkblot on their day.

“Yeah, Mr. Delaney knows everything about wine.”  She said glowingly.  “He makes wonderful recommendations.”

The customer nodded but didn’t comment beyond a grunted agreement.  He strolled along the American Reds section thoughtfully and she decided she like the cut of his pants very much.  “There’s a wine tasting tonight.”  She offered.  “Mr. Delaney will be here then.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “Will you?  Be here then?” He moved away from the California wines and toward the Italian section, closer to her.

Her mouth opened and she stared.  Then she closed her mouth and swallowed.  She shook her head for a moment before she could answer.  “No, no, not tonight, no, um, sometimes I help with the tastings, but not tonight; I’m working—my other job I mean—so no, not tonight.”  She took a breath.  “But you should come, you’d probably enjoy it.”

“I’ve been.”  He said.  “They’re alright.” 

She bristled a little.  Most people raved about the wine tastings that Mr. Delaney held every-other-Friday evening.  She felt a funny sort of resentment at his non-committal remark.

He was looking at her somewhat shrewdly, she realized, and blushed.  “Are you looking for anything specific?”

His smile took on a wolfish quality for a moment and she felt her heart beat just a little bit faster.  Who was this man?  “Yes and no.”  He replied charmingly.  “Have you tried this one?”  He asked, gesturing lazily to a bottle near him. 

“Which?”  She asked, stalling.

His smile deepened and his light-green eyes narrowed some.  “This one here, I’m hopeless at Italian.” 

She licked her lips.  Somehow she doubted his claim very much.  He looked like the sort of man who’d attended an elite private school.  He looked like he was probably well traveled and spoke several languages.  He was luring her out from behind the counter.

With a deep breath she put a friendly smile in place and moved around the counter toward him.  When she got close he gestured again at no wine in particular and she guessed at a bottle.  “This one?”

“Mmmhmm.”  He didn’t take his eyes off her, he had no idea which bottle she was referencing. 

“This one is very popular.”  She told him, determinedly fixating on the bottle instead of meeting his eyes.  “I understand it to be delicious.” She lifted it up from its resting place a little to examine the label for any helpful buzzwords, like ‘dry’ or ‘full-bodied’, but the entire label was in Italian.

“Delicious?”  He chuckled.  “But you haven’t tried it?”  Something in his tone made her feel light and nervous all at once.

“No, sadly, I haven’t had the opportunity.”

“If I bought it now would you open it with me?”

She blinked at the bottle, unsure of how to respond.  She’d seen Mr. Delaney open bottles with customers, have a taste and discuss the vintage, but she’d never done it.  She wasn’t even sure if she was allowed to do it.  “Ummm.”

“You’re not old enough, are you?”  He asked with a gently teasing tone.

She flushed and squared her shoulders.  She was not, actually, old enough to purchase alchohol.  But Mr. Delaney had assured her that she was welcome at tastings and always had her try wine whenever she was working and he happened to open a bottle to taste.  Tasting wine, he’d assured her, was nothing at all like drinking at a bar.  And he encouraged her to develop her palate at every opportunity.

“I’m not, really.”  She confessed, hoping it would dissuade him from his current pursuit. 

“How old are you?”  He asked in a low voice that made her pulse thrum.

“Eighteen.”  She said and finally looked at him.  Eighteen was old enough to sell the wine—she hoped he wasn’t a narc.

He smiled warmly but there was something a little more edgy in his eyes that made her eyebrows crinkle up.  “How old are you?”  She countered, not sure at all what had made her say it.

He laughed out loud, surprised by the sudden inquest.  “Twenty three.”  He answered cheerily. 

He seemed older than that.  He seemed like he’d been drinking wine for years.  Maybe he had.  Maybe he’s gone to a boarding school in Switzerland… she shook herself and made herself stay in the present, focused. 

Without looking he reached over and slowly pulled the bottle out of her hands.  “I think I’ll take this one.”  He said quietly.

“I think you’ll enjoy it.” She responded, a little dismayed by how breathy she sounded.  She seemed to be rooted to the floor.

Hi eyes sparkled with amusement.  “Don’t worry, I won’t have you open it just now.”  He teased her charmingly.  “Wouldn’t want to get you in any trouble.”

Her lips twitched.  She called on all her inner strength to move her feet away from him and back toward the register.  She really did not trust herself when in close proximity to this man.  She felt him following behind her.

“Will that be all today?”  She hoped she sounded pleasant and not as dismissive as she felt.

He cocked an eyebrow.  “I think this will do for now.”  He said, placing the bottle on the counter and spreading his hands across the surface casually.  She noted that he still had yet to so much as glance at the label he was purchasing. 

She scanned the bottle, told him the total, and set about carefully removing the price sticker with a razor blade.  Her fingers were shaking.  In her peripheral vision she surreptitiously watched him retrieve a handsome bill fold and a pair of bills from among many large denominations.

He waited until she’d finished removing the price sticker and had bagged it to hand her the payment.  She didn’t know precisely why, but she always preferred customers who handed the money or the card to her over those who put it on the counter. 

“Thank you.”  She said, taking the bills and entering the amount into the register computer.  She counted his change and extended her hand toward him but he didn’t reach for it.  “Your change.”  She prodded politely.

“You can keep it.”  He said, his tone perfectly friendly.

She furrowed her brow.  It was far too much money for a tip.  “Thank you, but we don’t accept tips.”  She lied.  She watched his eyes flick over to the brandy glass next to the register that had change and dollar bills stuffed inside it.  She swallowed.  “Anyway, I should be tipping you—the way you helped me with that bee.”  She laughed a little and moved her hand insistently, pushing his change further toward him.

He made one, throaty ‘hmm’ sort of laugh and reluctantly reached for the money.  “That was my pleasure.”  He told her in a smooth voice.  “Certainly spiced up my morning.”  He slid the money into his pants pocket in an almost disappointed way.

She met his eyes and his gaze sent a sort of warm shiver down her spine. 

“It’s not every day I get to play the hero.”  He joked modestly.

“Oh.”  She laughed a little, though amusement wasn’t quite what she was feeling.  “Thanks again.”

He nodded.  Then he extended his hand toward her confidently.  “I’m Grey, by the way.”

She hesitated for only a fraction of a moment before clasping her hand into his.  “Maggie.”

“A pleasure to meet you Maggie.”  He said and shook her hand pleasantly.

“You too.”  She responded as their hands parted.  “Have a nice day.”  She added after a moment spent staring at one another wordlessly.

He grinned and chuckled and shook his head a bit.  “You too Maggie.”  He finally took the bagged bottle and, giving her a courteous nod, he strode out of the Wine Shoppe.

When the electronic ding-dong had sounded and the door closed behind him, Maggie let out a long exhale and sank to the floor behind the counter.  Mother Mary help her, but she had never met anyone like that.  Sitting there on the floor she crossed herself and said a prayer before she felt ready to get back to work.  Thank goodness the Wine Shoppe was slow in the mornings.