A reminder: Fan Fiction is a work of FICTION. All characters, names or likeliness to anything in the authors work is unrelated to anything or anyone in real life.Viewer discretion is advised. Short synopsis: Thomas Melbrooke is one of the most boring people you'll ever meet. He works as an assistant for a famous fashion magazine called Masquerade. No one in his neighborhood or job gives him any attention whatsoever, he is frowned upon for his bad looks by friends and colleagues. Little do they know that when it's time to clock out, The Last Bartender clocks in. This is not a roleplay. There are no sign ups. Do not post until the author(MASiFFECT) has stated that the book is complete.
Chapter 1 The First Sip My name's Thomas, my friends call me Tom. Of course I don't really know if these people are what you'd call friends since all they seem to do is make fun of how I look and what I wear. They're the only people I have to talk to and for now they're all that I've got. I'm six foot five with brown eyes, skin and as told by many people I have absolutely no fashion sense. My hair is black and parted to the right. I've got curly, four inch long bangs because I let them grow out, but the top, sides and the back are short and straight. I thought I'd try something new with it instead of the same old school boy look. Vanity seems to grab a lot of peoples attention, including mine, I won't deny it. I'm in love with what looks catches my eye. If that makes me a bad person, then everyone is just as bad. I work for a high fashion magazine called Masquerade. I know what you're thinking. "Doesn't that mean you hide behind a mask and dance promiscuously with strangers in an attempt to land a one night stand?" Yeah, I guess you could say that's what it means, but it also means disguise, put on a show, hide who you are. That's pretty much what fashion is. The editors know what they're doing, trust me. This months cover was a tribute to September eleventh. Two twin models were being slapped on the behind by a well sculpted, tan man with a mustache, huge beard. He used a paddle shapped and painted like an airplane. In addition the twins were both in three-hundred-thousand dollar dresses that looked like buildings and their butts were on fire. Take a breath and reread that last part, I'm sure it's hard to take in. No amount of glitter and macaroni would save the designer of those dresses reputation in my eyes. As far as I was concerned, I had a job that paid well and didn't have to wear anything like that. The cover sold over eighty million copies within the first two weeks. You can imagine how unsurprised I was at how popular the cover became. Genius these days involves a lot more than a great mind, pretty face and or an idea. It also involves being bold, something I think too many people have forgotten how to do. ---
--- I don't have much to say about my job except that working for this incomprehensible man makes me want to clean my ears out with a Smith and Western. My boss is someone you can imagine as the devil, but his good looks get him all the ladies and his suave debonair gets the job done all on its own. He virtually sits in a seat and tells people what to do. The magazine runs itself. I don't even understand why he shows up for work. The rich bastard should just give me a break already instead of having me do all the walking. ---
---"Get me a coffee." He said. "Two creams and some sugar." "Bagel." "Cream Cheese on onion." "And-" "-a banana. You need your potassium." "Atta boy." "Will that be all for you Mr. Aurorus?" "Yes, get on it. Make sure to run by Jennifer to see how she's doing with the spread. I want all bases covered Tom." "Yes, sir." "And Tom?" "Yes?" "You look like shit." "I know sir, I'm terribly sorry sir." If I had the strength to quit this meaningless job I would. I would quit and be done with it, but I can't. My skills aren't exactly hire worthy material. No college degree, no work experience except for this job which I've only had for about a month now and no health insurance until I've made it to the three month mark. You see who I have to put up with? He's a jerk, don't believe me? Let's have a flash back of yesterday, shall we?---
---I was at the elevator about to leave for lunch when... "Tom! Where is my lunch?" "In the fridge?" "You expect me to eat it cold?" "There's this thing called a microwave and-" "No, get me a hot lunch from Phô-China." "Phô-China???" "Yup. Get going." That's probably the worst possible part of town. It's downtown gangster paradise. It takes over fifteen minutes to get there and the other fifteen minutes to get back. That's my entire lunch. I haven't even gotten to eat today. He ate the bagel and coffee that was mine this morning. Not only is Phô-China one of the weirdest names for a Noodle and Chinese food place, it's one of the most awkward places in all of town. Their entire operation is cash only, there are metal bars around the tables and there's a waiter with a staring problem.---
---I drove to the restaurant having already called via Blue Tooth on the way out of the building from work. He always gets Chowmein and Orange Chicken. Those are two of my favorite, I would have gone with fried rice instead of Chowmein, but I wasn't in the mood for Chinese or Noodles for that matter. I wanted juice, I was trying to stay on my diet as a newly converted vegetarian. I got off the freeway and headed into the Dragon's Throat. That's what you call downtown China Town because it's shaped like a throat, enclosed and its asian, so they call it that. I parked, popped in a quarter for the meter, then ran inside Phô-China. I was scared out of my mind because everyone in there looked like they wanted to make me into their bitch for the night. The waiter I was telling you about that has the staring problem, he's a tranny, his name is Ganjin Dimyup, but he goes by Jennifer Dimsum. He wanted to be called Jennifer Hudson, but someone told him he didn't have the bone structure to pull it off. Whenever I went in he rushed towards me to give a hug and grope also known as the Rock, Paper, Scissors. "Tommy! Haiii!" "Oh crap..." He ran toward me, slammed into me like a rock, hugged me like paper, grabbed my ass and cut our little rendezvous short with precision scissors. Immediately after this game he played he served customers as if nothing had just happened. I would politely tell him to stop, but I'm afraid he'll start crying. Everyone knows never to make a tranny cry. When their make up starts running, people will stare, get pissed off at you then kick your ass because trannies rule downtown. They're the nicest people you will ever meet here and the men treat them with the highest respect. Crazy shit, isn't it?---
(Whoops! Posted early.)(Favorites*) ---I think it's cool they're so open minded, but it's scary when they look at me like I'm their next meal. I paid in cash, took the food, waved at Jennifer and stepped outside to see a cop at my car. "Nice car." He said. "What?" "Nice car!" "Oh thanks..." "Just letting you know." The police officer stood there a second longer, turned around as if to be looking at something, then walked away. I didn't get a ticket so I was relieved. It took me forty minutes to get back because there was a shooting near the freeway along with a bomb going off somewhere nearby. I got to the office, gave Mr. Aurorus his food, looked at him and said "Here you are sir." "What's this?" "It's your lunch." "I already ate." "Oh..." "Since you're here and not doing anything. I'm feeling like Fish and Chips from the FW." "What about lunch?" "You eat it." I was furious. I sat through traffic in one-hundred and five degree heat with his Chinese food. I'm vegetarian now, I can't eat this. It'll offset my entire bodys digestive system. Not only that, once again FW a.k.a the Fisherman's Warf is across town. This man doesn't know when to stop yanking me around. Long story short, I ended up going to about three other restaurants that day, the money for the food came out of my pocket and not the expense account because he said I took too long to get it all for him.---
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---I went downstairs to grab the spread and make a copy of it to look over with some of the editors. Jennifer Roland is one of my favorite coworkers. She's not stuck up and she really likes me, I think. On second thought let me get back to you on that one. "Hey bitch." "Sup slut." I replied. "Whatcha want? Finally decide to go Hello Kitty?" "Uhm... I'm not gay." "I know, it's just funny to mess with you. Look at that hair... Donald Trump's has had better days." "I'm here for the copy of the spread." "Yeah yeah," she said turning around, the handing me the pages "You couldn't be gay even if you wanted to be. Those clothes just scream heterosexual culture, Pleasantville virgin." "Thanks Jennifer." I walked away smiling. At least someone believed me. I was getting tired of the same lifeless conversations that I have with the other assistant at lunch. Jennifer has so much more to say and always wants to gossip. My life would be completely half empty without her there. Don't get me started on seeing the glass half full because believe me, I know more about filling a glass than you ever will.---
Then* ---I went to the conference room and saw every ones pages up. The spread was last, fan*******tastic. You know something is about to go down when you're the last person there. "Look who decided to show up." Guillermo said. "I'm a bit early aren't I?" I asked. "A bit early? We've been here five minutes." "Five whole minutes? Are you all on time out?" I made a sad face and pouted with my bottom lip like a chimp. "You're fashionably early." Mark said winking at me. "Uh huh..." I said looking at him. "All right everyone would you please be seated." We all moved around the table, sitting in our ridiculously comfortable chairs. These chairs were more comfy than mine. I was tempted to swap mine for one. All it needed was a cup holder and I'd be more tempted to take it home. Ah, the joy of wanting things you just can't have. ---
--- When it comes to things I can't have there's one thing in particular I want. You have to promise me that you will tell... no one. If you do I'll have to find you and end you. What I really want is a pudding cup. When I was a kid my grandma would always ask me if I wanted pudding or jello and then when I decided she'd say "We don't have any." Ever since I've had this mad obsession with pudding cups so I try to stay away from them. Remember, tell anyone, I end you.---