By: Lara
Chris was turning thirty. He knew this was supposed to be a big
deal…some sort of “hill” he was crossing over.
But he didn’t feel over any kind of hill. He didn’t feel any different than he normally did. So he thought about it, and realized maybe
he should do some things he hadn’t done for a long time…kinda like a
retrospective on his first thirty years or something. Kinda like an A&E Biography.
Chris lay on his bed the night before his birthday,
deep in thought. There had to be
something new and exciting he could do on his birthday. Normally he didn’t have any problem coming
up with something new and exciting, but he was hitting “excitement block”…or
something. He leaned over and grabbed
his phone, calling Joey.
“Joe?”
“Hey birthday boy…what’s happening?”
“Nothing much…hey…what did you do on your
birthday?”
“Uh…I performed at the Superbowl, then I got drunk
and got laid?”
“Gee, Joe, you’re a lot of help. Thanks.”
Chris hung up, frowning.
“Hello?”
“Justin?”
“Chris, hey old man! Almost thirty, huh? Do
you realize we will NEVER be in the same age group, dude? When I’M thirty, you’ll be forty!” Justin cackled with glee.
“Ha ha, Junior.
Hey…what did you do on your birthday?”
“Britney snuck me away for a little vacation…and
I’m not telling you anything else.”
Chris sighed.
Nope. No girlfriend to sneak him
away. “Okay, thanks.”
“Lance, what did you do on your birthday?”
“Performed a show, then I threw a party.”
A party.
Hmm. Only problem with a party
was that everyone he wanted to invite wasn’t in town. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
Chris didn’t even bother calling JC. He knew that JC had pretty much slept
through his birthday. So Chris stared
at his ceiling, thinking. He could get
drunk…but that wasn’t anything special.
He could find some random girl to sleep with, but, there again, that
wasn’t anything he hadn’t done in a while, either. He picked up his wallet and rifled through it, trying to find
something to spark his creativity. He
picked up his ATM card and twirled it between his fingers thoughtfully. He hadn’t been to a bank in AGES. He could go to the bank and withdraw some
money. Just for fun. Then…he could find
a woman. Not just any woman…maybe
someone who hadn’t heard of NSYNC.
Yeah. In that town it was
absolutely impossible to find someone who didn’t know who he was…but it would
waste time on his birthday.
“Thank you, Mr. McMichael. You have a great day.” Tina LeBlanc beamed her greatest smile. The old man smiled back and walked away. As soon as he was out of her line of vision
she sighed, blowing her red hair from her forehead. “God, those old men drive me CRAZY!” She said to her coworker Stacey.
“They can’t make up their mind about anything, and they think you’re
here all day just to read their minds.”
“You act like you’re just figuring this out,”
Stacey muttered out of the side of her mouth.
“Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen and twenty. Here you are.” She handed the cash to the
young woman she was waiting on. “Have a
nice day.” She glanced at her watch as
the woman walked away. “Lunchtime.”
“No. My
turn to go at twelve, remember?” Tina
asked. Stacey shrugged, flipping her
“Please go to next window” sign around.
“Snooze ya lose!”
She said cheerfully, darting away to punch out before Tina could
protest.
“Dammit,” Tina swore, thumping her fist on her
counter.
“Bad day?”
A voice in front of her said sympathetically. She looked up into a pair of brown eyes.
“I…uh…I’m sorry. Can I help you?”
The man grinned, his brown eyes sparkling
devilishly. “If you’re apologizing for
swearing, don’t. If you’re apologizing
for not immediately waiting on me, it’s okay.
My uncle won’t mind too much…especially if I don’t tell him.”
“Your uncle?”
“He owns this bank,” the man said, and Tina
swallowed deeply. “I’m his favorite nephew. He loves me best, believes
everything I say…even when I’m lying.”
“And what would I have to do to get you NOT to tell
him that,” Tina said fearfully. She needed the job desperately. The man grinned
and chuckled.
“Nothing. I have no clue who owns this bank.” Tina glared up at him. “Go ahead. Call me a fucking rat
bastard. You know you want to.”
“Sir, what I would like to call you would make your
ears burn,” she said coolly. “Now, can
I help you with something?”
“Yes, please. I need to withdraw some money. What do you need?”
“Well, I need your account number and some
identification,” she said. He dug into
his wallet.
“Uh…I have the number here somewhere…” He pulled
out a battered piece of paper. “Seven
three six, four four four, eight one nine five.” He handed her his driver’s license and waited.
Tina typed the number into the computer. “Mr. Kirkpatrick.” She checked the information against his license, then handed the
card back. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Do you know who I am?”
“You’re Christopher Kirkpatrick, and your birthdate
is October seventeenth, nineteen seventy-one.
You’re height is…”
“Okay, we don’t need to discuss my height or lack
thereof,” he snapped, shoving the card into his wallet. “How much can I withdraw?”
“How much do you need?”
“Three hundred will do.”
“Fine.”
Tina’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Are you dating anyone?”
“Excuse me?” Tina gaped at him.
“Are you serious with anyone? Husband?
Fiancé? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”
“Not that this is ANY of your business, but no, no,
no, and DEFINITELY no.” Tina counted
out the six fifty-dollar bills. “Will
there be anything else?”
“I’d love to take you out for dinner tonight. What time do you get off?”
“No, thank you, Mr. Kirkpatrick,” she said primly.
“Awww…come on. I was just joking. You looked like you needed it.”
“No, thank you,” she said in a softer tone. “I
don’t let strange men take me out on dates.”
“I’m not a stranger! You know my name, my birthday, even my height!”
“I said strange, not a stranger,” she said, finally
smiling. “Have a nice day, Mr. Kirkpatrick.”
“Thank you,” he grumbled, taking his money and
walking away.
“What was that all about?” Stacey came back behind
the counter, sandwich in hand.
“He was asking me out…asked what time I got out
tonight.” Tina shook her head. Stacey grabbed her purse.
“I need to go to the post office. See you in a
bit.” She strode out through the lobby
of the bank, catching up with Tina’s customer on the sidewalk. She purposely bumped into him. “I’m sorry!”
“Excuse me,” he said politely.
“It’s okay.
Her name is Tina, she gets off at five-thirty, and is usually in the
back parking lot getting into her car by five-forty.” Stacey gave the man a smile and walked on.
The
End
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