Have Hart

♚

Gaiety settles over their features at once, letting what they intended to accomplish this afternoon and a specific visit to Ventura fall onto the backburner as Cleo enjoys the conversation unfolding amongst them now. If this was a part of the universe’s plans to let her relax, especially with how intense the last few weeks have been for their upcoming business launch, then so be it. With a soft chuckle, the platinum-dyed woman shakes her head. “Not that I mind strangers spouting useless knowledge,” she correctly lightly rather than its stern approach Cleo usually takes, “Unless it’s something out there, idiotic like why I shouldn’t allow my mind to be corrupt by reality television, then I immediately tune out because one, it’s my way of self-care watching grown women fight each other and two, mindless activities are necessary to rejuvenate.”

With words liquidating in the air, the brief intermission, and point free of explaining their guilty self-care hours, the cup of balmy earl grey tea finds itself near her petals for the first time since sitting down. Others find their fuel in coffee, whereas Cleo prefers tea because whether people, believe it or not, there’s more caffeine in tea than coffee itself  ─ espresso included. “Definitely one of those ah-ha moments,” Songbird falsetto agrees effortlessly after a moment, the cup returning itself to the saucer. A gentle smile finds her mouth corners, another fact entering into the conversation that’s erupting between the pair of unknown faces. At least, from her azure gaze and brief recollection, she can’t pinpoint if they ever interacted before, especially since she has a good memory of remembering faces and names due to all of the people. “There’s no point in denying the power of Tom Hanks, yeah?” Then, questioning with a laugh, an inquisitive brow shots toward him, “But yeah, I heard that before, in one of those guilty ten facts you didn’t know about Tom Hanks YouTube videos.” Because yes, they roam carelessly online too.

However, before anything else, the other punctures a question on her familiarity. Rather than it astounding them and causing features to widen as they got caught, her petals press into a fine line as she shifts in the seat once more. “Potentially.” Jocularly response, allowing a moment before helping him piece the potential of where he’s seen her. “I was a former reality television star, Saint Catalina; hence my guilty pleasure is watching other idiots on television.” A pause, top line of teeth nibbling on their lower petal, “But now I’m a business owner, in which I have some wine in the local stores or I don’t know, maybe you used one of my unisex fragrances?”

“People who don’t appreciate reality television are either liars or hate themselves. That is one of the many hills I am willing to die on.” Tyson always referred to reality television as his “guilty pleasure” but in actuality there was nothing guilty about it. He could easily see the genius in it. “They just don’t get what part is supposed to be reality. Like it’s fabricated situations that people are reacting to. Just shut up and enjoy it not happening to you, you know?”

He nodded as they explained where he might have known her from. Tyson vividly remembers getting stood up about two months into living on Catalina. He locked himself in his apartment for six weeks and binging every real housewives and real housewives adjacent shows which included Saint Catalina. It had been some time since then. Tyson made a mental note to revisit the series to remember if he liked her persona or not. 

“That but made it sound like you’re trying to either prove to me or remind yourself that you’re more than just a reality show. Which like, if you are, you don’t have to do that for me. I know reality tv is just a tip of the iceberg for a lot of people in terms of their businesses. Like I always say, it’s easier to make money when you already have it. It makes sense to use the celebrity to further yourself. I’d probably do the same thing.” Tyson paused for a moment, thinking back to what he was like when he lived in New York. “On second thought, I probably would have gone the way of like a Lohan or something but she like came back around eventually.”

Lydia raised her eyebrow at the dare. “Really?” The blonde said, rolling her eyes and obviously not really interested in it, but shrugging and calling the bartender over again once he had left the glasses with them. “For every 8 ounce glass of water I drink, you fill it up with vodca, a rock of ice or two will suffice,” and she looked back a the man with a smile on her lips. It wasn’t a very good thing that he had an upper hand in the game, seeing how she would do her very best to avoid choosing truth, simply because she was not interested in revealing much of herself to a complete stranger. She took a sip of the water glass and made sure to screw up her face as if she was sipping on straight up lemon. “Gross,” the blonde pointed with a jokeful smile before taking her newly refilled glass of vodca and taking a longer sip. He was really unprepared for how much she thought she needed to sustain her buzz.

“No more water allowed, you have your rules and I have mine, also—” Lydia pursed her lips for a moment, “if you deny to answer a question or to do a dare, you have to take a shot, it’s only fair,” she pointed out before clearing her throat. “So, truth or dare?”

“Nah, you can’t override the water rule. That’s a blanketed statement and honestly, its for your benefit. You’re about one vodka away from being cut off.” Tyson knew how these nights would go. He had often been on the other side of this conversation. There was a fine line between having fun and starting a fight with a bartender who had cut you off. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was going to do in that situation so he wanted to tread that lightly. 

“Fair, I accept your rule because I’m an open book and there’s very little I won’t say or do. So that being said, truth. Always truth. I’m a lazy boy and there’s no reason to pick anything else.”

♚

An unpredicted utility incident shifted the entire afternoon Cleo had planned for work ─ answer the evergrowing e-mail filling her inbox and take time to prepare for the upcoming release of their sangria flavor. Rather than doing a full-blown bash with extraordinary sights and an evening, others won’t forget, the blonde decides to shift this energy onto their thirty-first birthday, which isn’t until July. Still, the tendency to get ahead of themselves gets the best of them. So, it was a strict plan and one the business owner was ready for… until the power on the block where her office resides meant no electricity, internet, and with increasing summer temperature, staying in the confines of her comfort would be a treacherous design.

It’s why they went out of their way to go to Ventura Coffee Roasting Co., seated in what she thought to be a tranquil corner changed with a snap of the fingers. A fellow, what she suspects to be twenty-something, was settled nearby and began to go into a tangent ─ though an acceptable one as it surprisingly captured their attention. “Well, it will be hard to ignore because it comes with a lot of brainpower, which is limited as it is because this day has been a shitshow.” This explains their features’ slight furrow, feeling bits and pieces of tension roll over their body. Unfortunately, though, that statement could be taken the wrong way, so quickly and with the sound of clearing her throat, she says next: “Not because you’re telling me about baking soda, but because Avalon is a shitshow.”

However, making their point come across and the unlikelihood of any work getting done today, the blonde settles in the chair. Arms were intersecting over her chest, not in any sort of dismissal but curiosity, along with providing undivided attention to their new companion. Ever so often, the nod and hum approvingly, galvanized by the turn of the evident. “Impressive, I will forever look baking powder and baking soda differently knowing these details. And if I ever need to use this information as an icebreaker, I’ll remember this,” she says with a soft smile. “As for myself, did you know William Shakespeare invent the name Jessica?” Not exactly, but it could’ve been an influential factor. “Well, an moreso the anglicization of the biblical name, Isach, but when you say them…. boom. ”

He smiled as the other matched his ‘interesting’ fact. Tyson appreciated it. “No worries, even if you were saying me talking to you was a shit show, I wouldn’t be offended. Strangers randomly spouting useless knowledge can be annoying. I mean, to normal people. I live for useless facts.” Tyson lived for curiosity. There was always a need to know something and feed that hunger. He never tired of reading about random topics or hearing things that people knew. 

His eyes scanned over the other, taking in her posturing and getting a general sense of they’re vibes. Something about her was familiar but Tyson couldn’t place it. They must’ve just had one of those faces that was similar to someone else that he had known. Or they must’ve run into each other on the island at some point. “I feel like I did know that, about Shakespeare. Or if I didn’t that’s just one of those facts that when you hear it you’re like ‘ah, yeah. that just makes sense’, you know? In that same vein though, did you know the name Madison didn’t become a thing until like the 80′s? Well I mean for a girl at least. Actually, Tom Hanks made the name popular. It was from this movie called Splash where the mermaid character takes the name Madison from Madison Avenue. But before that, a male name. Some of Matthew or something.” 

The feeling of knowing the other kept running through his mind, to the point where it was starting to annoy him. Tyson took a long sip of his ice coffee, eyes still taking her in. “Have I met you before? Something about your face is registering familiar to me and I can’t place it. I can’t tell if we’ve met in Catalina before or like on mainland California at like some afterparty or something. Or maybe I don’t know you at all and my brain’s wrong. Who’s to say.”

LOCATION:  VENTURA COFFEE ROASTING CO.

DATE & TIME: May 5, 2021 at 3PM

“You know what I learned today?” Tyson asked before taking a sip of his black iced coffee, eyes glued to his cellphone. He was on one today. It was one of those days where he was just a ball of curiosity. Tyson just wanted to know things. One random question would spiral out into an internet deep dive. Article after article, he would just keep going. The next thing he’d know, it was five hours later and he was 100 degrees away from what he was originally looking for. 

“Actually, I don’t really care if you wanna know, I’m going to tell you any way because it’s interesting.” He places his phone on the table before leaning forward. “So, you know baking soda right? And obviously it’s different than baking powder. But do you know what the difference is? Baking soda is sodium bicarbonate. It’s a leavening agent. In order to work well, it needs some sort of acid. Vinegar. Buttermilk. Something.” 

His eyes widened with excitement as if he was talking about something fantastical. “Baking powder, on the other hand, that’s an all in one leavening agent. It’s essentially baking soda mixed with a dry acid, cream of tartar, and like cornstarch or something. So like you don’t need a liquid acid to activate it. It can just be activated with water. And like not even just that, baking powder can be double reacting so like one reaction happens when you’re prepping things then another one happens when it’s heated. Like, isn’t that interesting? I mean, clearly no on a like excitement scale but also...yes. Anyway, what’s something you’ve learned today?”

That wasn’t Lydia speaking. Sort of. She didn’t do that. She didn’t get drunk or beg people to drink with her. She never even went to a bar alone, unless she was getting takeout or something; but how was she supposed to explain that to a complete stranger? The way her drunk brain was thinking at that moment, she just didn’t want to drink alone, like she had done the past few days, like she had been doing for the past few hours ever since happy hour drinks were announced. It maybe transparent that she was drinking with a cause, and she didn’t mind, she just didn’t want to do it alone. Her eyes narrowed a bit at the suggestion of hydrating a bit— and it was funny because she was more than aware that it was a good idea, but it didn’t mean it was a path she wanted to steer her boat in. “There’s ice in my vodka, isn’t it water enough?” She pointed with a raised eyebrow before taking a long sip of her drink and halving it.

Her drunken state didn’t let her hide the excitement at an agreement, the blonde clapped her hands in front of her and adjusted herself on her seat so she could pay her best attention at whatever the man was talking about, but it was like her brain had lost interest after the word rules and only rebooted once he said she would go first. “You know what, it’s been a fucking while since I played truth or dare,” she was in high school, maybe? Or was it spin the bottle? She’d have to ask Eleanor later. “I will choose… dare,” her hand lightly wrapped around the transparent glass as she looked at the other with excitement and expectation, there was no way she’d choose truth and risk him asking deep stuff, there was no way her brain would be able to lie with how she is drunk.

Perfect. Lead into the trap. “I dare you to drink at least 3 8 ounce glasses of water before this night is over. I’ll help you start.” Tyson motioned to the bartender and ordered two glasses of water for the pair. It was only fair that he’d match her dare and hydrate alongside her. That and now that he had said it aloud, he couldn’t remember the last time he drank any water, if he had at all. The bartender placed the two glasses in front of them. 

“Get to sippin,” he said before picking up the other glass and taking a long sip. The coolness of it chilled his chest. A welcomed feeling in the slightly hot bar. “Well, your turn to ask me.”

Lydia had long thrown moderation to the wind. Six days ago, to be more exact. Her buzz had been complimenting her restlessness which in turn had been complimenting her lack of desire to return to sobriety. It was one of the reasons why she had been choosing, every time she went out, to extend her nights as much as she possibly could, seeing as her mornings had become increasingly harder to deal with and not only for the inevitable hangover. Her mornings had recently been a mixture of guilt, anger and self-pity, all rolled up with the stench of alcohol that seemed to never leave the motel bed’s sheets. It was quite the place she had been occupying for the past six days, but as long as she could rest her head on something, she wasn’t caring if it was a fluffy pillow or a piece of hot coal.

Still, her evenings remained the same. Getting ready and hopping to the first bar she could encounter, drink enough to become sociable and rope someone into having her as company. It wasn’t uncommon at all to find people drinking in their lonesome, men, women, young and old. She was quick to come to the conclusion that as long as she offered the first drink, or some interesting suggestion, they’d be unable to deny her, and she was more than appreciative of that. At some point, the alcohol in her system made it impossible for her to ignore what her mind insisted on remembering but with the right company, she was distracted enough to drink herself into oblivion.

Her eyes raised at the other’s choice of words and she was thankful to be sitting down, otherwise she would have definitely wavered on her feet. With a small shake of her head, Lydia tickled her tongue. “Please, water sounds incredibly boring right now and not at all a game I’d be willing to play,” she waved her hand in front of the man’s face. “I’m talking about pool, truth or dare, never have I ever and the likes, but if you’re gonna lecture me, then I’ll happily look for someone else,” the blonde suggested with a shrug, hoping he wouldn’t send her away, but knowing that quite possibly he should do that.

He laughed slightly. “I’m not one to lecture anyone. I’m just saying that maybe a little water would do you good. Not necessarily sober you up but at least hydrate you a little.” Tyson shrugged before taking a sip of his whiskey sour. It was weird being on this end of the conversation. It was only a few years ago that he was in her place and random strangers we’re trying to get him to come down from whatever he was on. That or encouraging and taking advantage of the state he was in. Tyson could vaguely remember the mornings waking up in a strangers bed and the hallow feeling he felt as he crept away. 

A sigh parted his lips at the mention of ‘looking for someone else’. Tyson wasn’t an idiot. He knew how terrible of an idea it was to leave a woman in her state alone, especially in a bar like Bootleggers. There was no way that he, in good conscience, do that. Tyson was going to be the safest person she could be with at this point. “Fine. Let’s play truth or dare. I have only one rule and one caveat for this game. The rule, whatever you choose, you have to follow through with it not matter what. The caveat, you have to follow through no matter what unless it is dangerous and life threatening. You first. Truth or dare.”

“Well, since two if the last three people I texted were my sisters, I’m going to just say my buddy Danny for all three. I mean it’s inevitable honestly.”

Camila could definitely understand what Tyson was saying. People being nosy to be exact. I was somthing that she was not good at in dealing with. Despite the fact that she was definitely being nosy herself. Perhaps a bit hypocrite, she would be open to admitting that. “Why do you think people would want to discuss something like this in a place that is very public? You think that unconsciously they like the attention that they are pulling in their direction at the moment?”

The response was unexpected and Charlotte a coughing sound that quickly turned into laughter. She had to admit sometimes she loved when people spoke without thinking. The things that came out could be pure gold and the reactions that followed were usually even better. “No, not rude,” she assured him, still chucking softly. “Unexpected but also true. Xanax would be the most effective at relaxing the average person. Unfortunately I can’t prescribe medications to my clients and I have to do it with things like rugs so here we are.” Her gaze returned to the rugs in question and she nodded as he spoke. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it said that blue is hunger inducing… I’ll have to look into that. Blue kitchen appliances might need a comeback soon. But I think you’re right, that one seems a little more calming and chill. Is it? Your mom and I have something in common. I’d probably have done the same thing. You’re looking for a new rug too, then? Or are you taking her advice and doing the whole space maximization while you’re out? Hidden storage is on the scene in a big way these days so that shouldn’t be too difficult.”