Selka Ebonstone & the Prophecy of 7

La Creme' De La Creme'

"So you hate your job, join the club."





Standing at her station was Sophie, texting on her iphone and waiting for the waitresses to arrive. What good luck I was having today, I thought; to work early and Sophie wasn't helping anyone yet, so maybe I could get her to do my hair and make-up.


"Hey," I waved, "how's it going?"


"Doing well," she said with an air of coolness, her long, jet hair hung like an accessory around her body. It flowed with her movements and leveled off just above her thighs. Although never wearing make-up herself, Sophie is an outstanding stylist especially her ability to blend colors to match any skin tone. She had this cool, punk rock flair that made me green with envy. When I was lucky enough to get her to work on me, I always came out looking pretty and punky, as opposed to the cake-faced Barbie doll look that the other girls gave me.


"Do you have time to make me up," I asked hopeful.


"Sure," she said, laughing at my politeness and pointed to her chair. I sat down and she spun me around and I was once again starring at myself in a mirror. I heard a door creak and turned my head to see Joe Pratt standing in the door that led to the kitchens.


"Ahhh Selka, just whom I was looking for... and what? On time too, what a rarity." I didn't reply, but looked around to imply that no other waitresses had shown up, let alone any of the stylists.


"Well when you are finished here, you are to come to my office."


"Yes Mr. Pratt 'T'," I said emphasizing the last "t."


He walked up behind my chair and starred at me in the mirror, then surveying Sophie's work (she was straightening the back of my hair) said, "You're doing a great job Sophie, but please put a little more make-up than usual on this one tonight," he jested towards me with his chin, "some need extra work." He patted me on the shoulder, turned on his heel and was out the door, before I could think of something smart to say back.


I sat there in silence, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks and not wanting to look in the mirror. So much raced through my mind, Joe was usually a prick towards me, but he was never out right rude like that. What had I done to piss him off?


"Don't sweat over him Selka," Sophie said, obviously aware of the reddening of my skin, which had nothing to do with the blush she had been applying. "He's just a jerk by nature."


I felt my mood immediately change and giggled. "Now close your eyes and I'll be done in a few," she said gently.


After what seemed like an eternity of being brushed, painted and primped, she spun me around to face the mirror. I was taken back at what I saw before me and gaped a little. Sophie had taken Joe's request seriously. I stared at the beauty that stared strangely back at me. Heavy, black eyeliner layered my eyes almost imitating the Asiatic eye's of its creator. If my cheeks had been red from embarrassment, they showed no sign of it now; they were soft plum. I smiled and then puckered my crimson lips and realized that I probably had the same amount of make-up I had on as I normally did when the other stylists do my make-up, yet this time I looked different, not artificial like before, but in some ways enhanced.


"You like," Sophie asked grinning. I glanced up for the first time since I had looked in the mirror to see the final product and wondered if she had been starring at me this whole time.


"Oh yes," I said a little self-consciously, "Thanks, thank you."


"No prob, that's what they pay me for" she smiled, still admiring her work.


I started to rise feeling a bit anxious to go to Joe's office.


"Ummm wait one moment Selka, I just got the best idea," Sophie gestured for me to wait. She turned around a dug through her supply drawer. I saw a small, sparkling, rose pin in her hand. She grabbed my side bangs and brushed them in the center of my face and then pinned it to the top of my head.


"It's called a bouffant," Sophie said, seeing my expressing. "They were very popular in Europe and this is my version of it." She bent down and smiled, "it's a nice change from the bangs anyways, now everyone can see your beautiful face." As if I wasn't red enough, I was sure I grew a few shades redder at her comment.


I looked at the hair style. I had seen it many times on girls with longer hair. I never really thought that it would actually work for my hair; given its length, but I truly liked it! With some restoration of my self-esteem I rose, thanked Sophie once again and headed through the kitchens to Joe's office.


As usual the door was closed. I raised my hand to knock loudly on the rather large sign that read "Pratt," and waited. I smiled to myself, thinking how ironic it was that Joe was his last name entirely, PRAT. Smirking, I straightened up when some strange noises came from behind the door and I knocked even louder.


"YES," a familiar voice finally grumbled. I turned the knob and stood in the doorway. It was just a plain room, small and dark; it had once been used as a large storage closet, before Joe decided he needed an office. Empty walls reflected the absence of the loving family and friends Joe didn't have. His desk was centered in the middle of the room with a file cabinet on each side. In the mists of his mundane office, Joe sat, looking more agitated than I had ever seen him.


"Well come in," he said, in almost a bellow. I went in and sat down in front of his desk.


"Ahhh I see that Ms. Bates did a fine job, I must see about giving her a raise," he said all the while scanning my face, "who knew she could really work miracles?" He bent back down over his paperwork as if he a suddenly forgotten my presence. After five minutes of tedious waiting, I faked a cough; I had plenty of other things to do, other than watch him write. He glanced up, "oooh yes Selka, you'll be working some different tables this week. You'll be in the V.I.P. lounge adhering to tables 3A and 5D. I am bumping Jessica to your usual section and putting you in her place. As usual Sasha, Nora and Melanie will be also covering this section, but your job is to be most attentive to Mr. Chamberlin whom will be seated at table 3A." I nodded; perplexed as to why he was giving me the V.I.P. section, everyone knew V.I.P. waitresses received V.I.P. pay as well as the best tips.


"Mr. Chamberlin," he said with strong emphasis, "is a wealthy investor, new to Seattle and will be dining here throughout the week. You are to do everything he requires and be extra polite. He too is a generous man and I'm sure will show his gratuity most graciously to you if you follow through precisely as ordered," his gaze dropped to my tattered pointed black flats, "and by the looks of you, you could do with some generosity."


This time my face burned with anger, outraged from Joe's rude remarks, I stumbled for retaliation. I would quit right here and right now and find another job even if it were for less pay and with greasy food, anything was better than this treatment. I made to stand and brought my voice up boisterously, I would leave here with all the dignity I had lost over the years from holding my tongue. But as I rose the phone rang, taken aback by the abrupt sound I jumped a little. Joe swiveled around in his chair, back towards me and answered the phone. I just stood there, still frustrated, but anger somewhat ebbing away. I was about to turn on my heel, when I noticed a piece of paper on his desk. It looked like an invoice of some kind, but what caught my eye was the name "Lorcan Chamberlin," and words "exotic women." Mr. Pratt turned around so quickly that I was unable to gather more. Noticing that I was still there, he gave a look that clearly read "you’re dismissed," and I turned on my heel to leave.


Head racing with so many thoughts, I barely noticed when I reached the kitchens. Bothered, confused and slightly curious, I decided that maybe I'd wait to quit until I saw how things played out with this Mr. Chamberlin character. I went over the assignment board and clearly read that I was assigned the V.I.P. section and in red ink was my name marked over tables 3A and 5D.


By this time other waitresses had finished getting their "costumes" on and were busily checking their assignments as well as setting the dining area. I headed to the storage room to get some candles and matches when I overheard people talking.


"Did you see that Joe’s hired a new guitarist for the band," a flirtatious voice chimed, "I haven’t seen him yet, but I hear he’s rather cute."


"Ooooh I’ve seen him," piped up another voice, this time familiar. It was Jessica Goldman, a self-assured waitress who usually worked the V.I.P. area.


"He’s absolutely gorgeous," she squealed "soft pale skin, dark brown hair and eyes as green as emeralds," she cooed in sickly sweet voice. Laughing at herself she grabbed the set of plates on the shelf and headed towards the door. I moved back a little and then realized instead of trying to avoid them I should act as if I had heard nothing and just enter the room.


Walking in I focused my eyes of the floor, trying not to like the eavesdropper that I was.


"Hey Selka," said a now familiar face. Mary Jane gave me a small wave.


"Hi," I said looking up at her, she actually wasn't that bad, but she always hung out with the more supercilious crowd, which I was never included in.


"Jess and I were just talking about the dreamy new guitarist Joe hired, have you seen him yet?"


"I haven't," I replied a little disinterested, not that I don't enjoy the pleasant appeal of good-looking men, I just preferred not swooning over something I most likely wouldn't have, given the competition of two dozen other feisty waitresses and well it's not good to mix business and pleasure right? I guess it couldn't hurt to snag a peek while passing the stage tonight though, just a little one. I smiled to myself.


"His looks aren't the only thing that's hot," Jessica said smugly, "his accent is amazingly sexy."


"You've talked to him," Mary Jane asked quizzically?


"Of course, I have," boasted Jessica, "A guy won't know if you're interested in him by just smiling."


I looked at her then, thinking how strange it was that Gemma had just said the same thing to me.


"I am sure he'll be asking me out by the end of the week," she said looking back at me.


I changed my gaze and headed for the candles as they walked out of the room.


~


It turned out that Mr. Lorcan Chamberlin seemed to be a harmless guy. He didn't even notice me when I took his order for blackened salmon with asparagus, immersed in a rather old looking book. His cohorts were rather opposite. Upon many lingering looks, I heard some rather amusing cat calls coming from the section of men huddled together to Mr. Chamberlin’s right. I slid behind Mr. Chamberlin and towards the kitchens to see if the orders were ready for serving. The chefs were running a bit behind, so I pressed up against the back wall to admire the architecture. No matter how many times I worked here, I never got tired of looking at the interior. Cream and honey colored groin vault (double arch) ceilings and golden chandeliers dangling down from each center point of the arches, illuminating the room as if the sun had never set. Sparkles of golden and white flora were etched on both walls and ceilings which added to this illusion.


I felt a small vibration against my chest and dug my cell phone out of my pocket. It was a text message from the kitchens. Order’s up, I thought and headed back. I wouldn’t have lasted a week at La Crème if I had to carry out orders; thank goodness we had small golden carts that we rolled to present the food. I finished putting the last plate on the cart and hurried back towards my guests.


“Braised Short Ribs and Potatoes, Seafood Portofino, and Blackened Salmon with Asparagus,” I had ended with Mr. Chamberlin and set to refill his wine glass of Merlot, when I felt a hard shove on my back. I saw the red liquid fly in the air remarkably and land onto the table cloth next to his remarkably clean powder blue shirt. I bent to dab the spots and briefly touched his shoulder. It happened almost immediately, what felt like a small electric shock, pierced my skin where I had grazed Mr. Chamberlin’s shoulder. My whole body broke out in a cold sweat and I moved my eyes to see Mr. Chamberlin. For the first time that night, his eyes were not looking at that book, they were set and pierced into mine. Dark, grey eyes as if a violent storm were brewing, I wanted to run right then and there, but my legs felt like lead. His face was hard yet quizzical, I wondered if he had felt the shock too? He must have, why would he be looking at me like that?


“My dear, are you okay,” his voice was cracked, but courteous. I came back down from wherever the hell I had been and realized I needed to reply, I was still working.


“Oh yes, yes Mr. Chamberlin, I am so… so sorry for the spill.” I then glanced around to see Jessica watching the whole thing. She caught my eye,


smirked and walked off. Just my luck I thought, what was she doing in this section anyways tonight?


“It’s quite alright, Miss… excuse I didn’t get your name?”


“Ebonestone,” I said, “Selka Ebonestone.”


“Well it is very nice to meet you Miss Ebonestone, I am sorry I didn’t notice you before,” he said smiling, eyes still piercing.


“Ahem…” said a sinister voice and I turned around trying to forget those eyes, “Is there a problem here Mr. Chamberlin,” asked Joe?


“Ahhh no, Joe, I accidentally knocked my wineglass over and Miss Ebonestone has been nice enough to help clean it up,” Mr. Chamberlin said blankly, “Is there a problem with you?”


“Oh no, not at all,” Joe stammered taken aback, “I had heard that there had been an incident and I wanted to make sure my waitresses were behaving appropriately.”


Behind Joe I could see Jessica, her face red with anger. She must’ve told Joe what had happened; the little snitch. It wasn't my fault that I was working VIP in her place I knew she was mad about not working V.I.P. tonight, but after Mr. Chamberlin left this week, she’d be back in her perfect little section.


"Selka," bellowed Joe!


"Huh?" Then things came back into focus.


"I believe Mr. Chamberlin would like some more wine."


"Oh... oh yes, here you are Mr. Chamberlin."


"Thank you Selka," he said still looking at me.


"You're welcome sir." I walked off and almost immediately grabbed my necklace. It's smooth surface, relaxing the tension in me. Oh what a day I thought and hurried to the kitchen to check on the complimentary dessert given to every V.I.P. patron.


Tonight it was Cherry Clafoutis with a crème angelise. I stacked the desserts on the cart and headed towards my tables.


"Just let me know when you want me to stop," I said to each client as I poured crème angelise over their clafoutis.


When I got to Mr. Chamberlin's I was anxious to finish serving and head back for clean up in the lower sections that had already left. I poured the crème angelise over his Clafoutis a little shakily. What had ever happen before, I did not want to repeat it. Mr. Chamberlin had been so kind covering up for me, which was something that I wouldn't have expected.


"Is there anything else I can get you gentleman," I asked politely? No one replied, and after a couple of minutes I turned to make my leave.


"Miss Ssselka," Mr. Chamberlin somewhat hissed. Damn I was so close... I turned back around, "Yes, Mr. Chamberlin?"


"My dear, you may find this presumptuous, but can I ask your ethnicity?" He stared at me then eyes dark and interested.


What? I thought. My thoughts must have been on my face, for he spoke again.


"You have such an exxotic look, I mussst know?"


"I don’t,” I paused, it was always a bit awkward when I tried to explain my heritage, "...I actually don't know... I was... I was adopted," I gulped.


"Interesting," he said, in almost a whisper as if he were talking to himself. He looked up then, those eyes boring into mine, as if he remembering I was there.


"If that was is all Mr. Chamberlin, I need to go to the kitchens," I said trying to break his gaze, it felt like it took every ounce for me to turn and I rushed off.


Almost in a run, I brushed past the stage and into the hallway. Smack, I hit something hard and my vision blurred. When I came back to consciousness a pair of green eye were looking at me; beautiful green eyes. His face came into full view then and I saw a rather pale, but handsome guy looking straight at me.


"Are you ok," he asked in an Irish accent?


"I'm fine," I said slightly dazed, "what...what happened?"


"I'm not quite sure," he said gently, "I think we were walking in one direction and looking in another. You have a wee bump on your head." He touched my head.


I pulled back, "I'll be fine, I'm just grateful I wasn't carrying anything." I made to leave, but he stopped me.


"I'm Cillian by the way," he grinned showing rather white teeth, "I just started working here I'm the new lead guitarist..."


~


Back in the kitchens I wiped my brow, flushed from the night's work. Well at least it was over; the patrons were gone and all I had to due was finish the grand total for the night. I sat on a chair in a small corner of the kitchen where I did some of the finance work. I glanced at my watch, one fifteen it read, I yawned. Several minutes passed. Ahhh, ok all done I thought and stretched my legs. Boy were my feet throbbing.


"Ahem." I heard the cough behind me. The janitorial staff had probably just got here to finish the bigger messes that us waitresses didn't have time to get to. I looked down at the small pile of cash on the table; my tips for the night. A hundred and thirty-five dollars in cash tips... this was definitely much better than most nights. I moved my toes, stretching them, I could probably buy a new pair of work shoes with the tips from tonight and still have some to put away in my savings.


"Ahem," I heard again and turned my head around.


Mr. Pratt was standing behind me.


"All finished, " I said. " And everyone was even tonight," I added happily. I was so glad that the money was even. If a waitress was short after her shift, Joe would make her pay for it out of her tips, even though sometimes he would use the waitresses tills and therefore we never knew if it was the waitress or him who made the mistake.


"Very well," he said curtly, "By the way, despite what Mr. Chamberlin said, I know that you were sloppy tonight, you should consider yourself lucky that he was so kind and know that your performance on Friday needs to be better."


I didn't say anything, really too tired to argue. I waited for him to leave, however he was stalling, considering something, I thought.


"By the way, Mr. Chamberlin wanted me to give you this," he threw an envelope on the desk, "although I doubt you deserve it," he said in an almost inaudible whisper and turned to leave.


I looked at the envelope on the table. It had obviously been sealed, yet it was open now. Damn Joe, that nosy bastard! I frowned and re-opened the envelope; a hundred dollar bill was inside. Surprised by the lavish gratuity, I just sat there, slightly gaping. It wasn't until I took the bill out of the envelope, that I discovered a second item; a small folded piece of paper. My trembling hands unfolded the paper to reveal a neat script of sentences. It read:





Miss Ebonestone,


I greatly appreciated your hospitality this evening, I look forward to our next meeting.





Sincerely,








L. Chamberlin





I didn't know what to think. Geez a hundred dollars was a lot of money for just dinner and I had no intention of doing anything else with this Mr. Chamberlin. I thought... I knew it, I would return the money to him and hopefully he'd get the picture that I was not on the market! "Christ," I said aloud, got up to get my bag and headed towards the employee parking garage.


"Hey," Emilia waved as I came closer to her car.


"Hey," I said and opened the door.


"How was your night," she asked, "I didn't get to see you at all.


"Yeah," I yawned again, not wanting to talk about today's events. It had been a long day; my insecurities, the delusional wave, the odd feeling I felt when I touched Mr. Chamberlin... actually, Mr. Chamberlin in general was quite disturbing. No, I didn't want to talk about it, I just wanted my bed, my soft, warm bed.


"Have you been listening to me," I heard Emilia say, and I turned my head.


"Hmmm?" I said, "sorry, I'm just so tired."


"Come Selka, what's up? You are always talkative when we ride home together, what's wrong?"


I didn't say anything.


"You'll feel better if you tell me about it," she coaxed.


I loved Emilia, she was always so kind and thoughtful and such a good listener. Maybe I should talk to someone about it I thought. It was never good to keep feelings inside. She could see that she had almost gotten through and took advantage of this. "Let me buy you a drink at that little bar, by your house. They should still be open for another hour or so."


"Oh okay," I sighed, finally giving in, "but you might think I'm crazy."


~


The bar was mildly packed, I didn't really want anyone overhearing what I had to say and stayed clear of the bar upfront, by taking a window booth near the back of the building.


"So what do you wanna drink," Emilia asked?


"I'll just have a diet coke," I said a little glumly, regretting my agreement to tell her my worries.


"Rum and Diet Coke it is," she winked at me and turned on her heel, before I could protest.


I sat back, just resting and enjoying the Nirvana song being played in the background. About ten minutes passed and I opened my eyes to see where Emilia was in line. Turning around I looked at the line to see Emilia walking toward me hands carrying our drinks. As she came closer I noticed the line in which she came from. Standing in that line was Cillian the new guitarist next him was Jessica Goldman. I ducked my head and turned back around. What rotten luck I thought and boy did she move fast. Emilia sat the drinks down smiling.


"Selka, why are you hiding behind that drink menu," she asked puzzled.


"Oh it's nothing, " I said, putting down the menu and trying to act normal.


"Okay," she replied, "So what's going on?"


"Well," I began to say when I was interrupted.


"What a surprise," said an overly cheerful voice, "what are you doing here Emilia," Jessica said?


"Me and Selka," Emilia said, emphasizing my name since Jessica seemed not to notice me, "are just having a drink and relaxing."


"Oh, well I am here with Cillian, have you met him yet?" She nodded toward the line where he was just getting drinks. "He's the new guitarist at La Crème. Isn't he gorgeous," she boasted?


He was very attractive I had to admit, but only to myself. I changed my gaze as he turned to look for Jessica. She waved him over. Oh crap I thought. he was coming over to our table, please Selka, I thought, please just be cool.


"Hey," he said in greeting to us.


"Hi," Emilia and I said at the same time.


'I'm Emilia, " Emilia said somewhat dreamily, " And this is..." she gestured toward me.


"Selka," he interrupted. There was a short silence.


Jessica and Emilia were starring at me confusedly. I knew my face was glowing red.


"I ran into her earlier this evening," he said seeing their expressions. I looked up and nodded.


"So," Jessica said, "we are sitting over there, I guess we'll see you guys at work." She made her way toward an empty table, but Cillian hadn't moved. He was starring at me.


"Hey why don't we sit here and join them Jessica? You did say there would be other people from work here?"


I looked up then, "we were actually, just... just leaving," I stuttered.


"What," Emilia exclaimed, but I nudged her under the table with my foot and she understood.


"Here, you can have our table," I made to get up and headed toward the door.


"What about your drinks," Cillian said? Jessica just stood there with her arms folded.


"I'm not much of a drinker," I replied, "you can have them."


Emilia laughed and replied "you can have her's," and she took her drink and downed it three gulps.


"Well have a good night," she hiccuped and headed toward me. With one last wave, we went outside and back into Emilia's car.


Slamming the car door as she sat down Emilia looked me straight in the face. "What was that all about?"


"What do you mean," I asked innocently?


"Why were you acting so weird in there," she seemed furious.


I sat there silent thinking of how to explain myself. After a few minutes I looked up and saw that she was starring at me.


"You like him don't you?"


"NO," I said guilty.


"Yes you do," she giggled ecstatically, "Oh Selka that's so cute... So what are you going to do?" She smirked.


"Nothing," I said, "not surprisingly he likes Jessica," I said a bit jealously.


"No he doesn't, he likes you. Did you see the way he was looking at you? And how he wanted to sit with us?"


"He was just being polite, Em," I hotly, I was done talking about it, what good would this do? "And," I added, "if you didn't notice he was out on a date with Jessica."


"No, I don't think he actually was," she said smiling.


I meant to retaliate, until I registered what she had just said. "What do you mean by that," I tried to say without interest?


"He said that Jessica had said that other people from work were going to be there. It seems to me that she asked him to come out with her."


I thought for a moment, maybe Em was right, but even if she was, what were my chances with him. Ah Selka, get over it, I told myself.


"It doesn't matter, can we just go home," I asked? "And let me drive, you downed that drink as if it was the fountain of youth." I laughed beside my seriousness. I was so tired, but Em was so funny.


"No license, no driving Emilia's care," she said tartly.


"It's a half a mile away from here Em," I retorted, "and I've never had vision issues at night."


"Vision issues?"


"It's a long story," I said, "Give me the keys and I'll tell you." She threw the keys at me and we traded places. I explained to Emilia about the floaters and a little reluctantly how I sometimes saw other things, although I left out the incident today of actually feeling what I saw. I pulled up in front of my house.


"That's why I don't drive," I said, "so far, I have never had any of these visuals issues when it's dark. My doctor says it's because light strains the eye, but it's why I only drive at night and usually when there are no other options."


"Well you learn something new everyday don't you," Emilia said slightly intoxicated.


"Would you like to crash in the guest room tonight," I said, she was obviously not driving anywhere tonight?


"Sure," she said.





~


After settling Emilia in the guest room and brushing my teeth, I crept down the hall into Grammy's room. I kissed her on her soft crown and headed towards the door.


"Selka," she whispered? I turned back around.


"Yes Grammy," I said softly.


"You're home safe?"


"Yes Grammy. Good night."


"Goodnight Hessie," she said.


Finally I had made it to my room. I stretched out on my twin bed and yawned. It had been one long day. I closed my eyes and began to dream.


I heard a faint sound. It was growing louder. "Selka," it had said, in an Irish brogue. I woke up startled, my eyes gazing into the dark. "Selka," I had heard again, recalling from memory. He had said my name, he had known my name without me telling him. I smiled and turned on my side, closing my eyes. He had known my name...