Call Me Vi | ONC 2024

Chapter 1 | Edited

There was no doubt in my mind that mango was the superior fruit. So why Anette at Smoothie King gave me a grapefruit smoothie, I had absolutely no idea.

I wrinkled my nose at the orange-y pink liquid in the cup, the bitterness of the grapefruit overpowering my tastebuds. "This is not what I ordered," I told the employee behind the counter. "And I'm running late. So if you could remake it to what I did order—"

"We ran out of mango and haven't got the new shipment yet, so we had to change your fruit," Anette replied, her voice shrill over the sound of the blenders whirring behind her. "I can upgrade you instead to a larger size if you'd like."

And you didn't think to tell me?!

I scowled at her. "A larger size for something I didn't order? Yeah, not gonna happen, hon. You're damn lucky I'm not allergic to grapefruit."

This was the last time I trusted such incompetence. Grapefruits were meant to be healthy, but god no wonder people put so much sugar on them.

Anette's lip trembled. "I-I can remake it then?"

I shook my head, holding the offending fruit containing drink away from me. "No. Just no." A quick glance at my watch told me that if I didn't get to work soon, my boss would certainly have words with me. And not the good kind.

That was the last thing I needed today.

"I'll be having words with your boss about this." I flashed my journalist badge in her face. It wasn't my smartest move, as I never liked flaunting my minor press status in anyone's face. Writing about big chain smoothie shops was not in my wheelhouse, so it was an empty threat, but I did intend on writing a not-so-great review on Yelp.

It was the least I could do.

My not-mango smoothie and I made it with five minutes to spare through the front doors of The Smokey Tribune, home to my job as a journalist and nestled into the small town of Morganton, North Carolina.

Finally, a success from the morning. After accidentally setting my alarm to 'pm' instead of 'am', burning my toast for breakfast, and getting the wrong smoothie, this last day before my Valentine's weekend was not off to a great start. Now all I needed to do, was make it until closing without any other—

Splat.

—mishaps.

I ran smack into Hayden, my co-worker and co-conspirator of a best friend. My smoothie ran straight into me, staining pink on my white blouse.

"Dammit!"

"Sorry, Reags!" Hayden zoomed away to the kitchen that was just off of the main entrance to the building.

"It's fine," I muttered, holding my shirt away from my chest. The liquid now made it sticky, just another thing to deal with.

"One of those kinds of days, huh?" Hayden asked, handing me a stack of napkins. "Sorry about your smoothie."

"That's ok." I gratefully took the napkins from him and dabbed the best I could at my shirt. Now it looked like someone had shot me with a pink paintball. "Do you happen to have something I can borrow to wear? I swear, it's like I'm cursed or something."

"Uh, let me check my stash. Because yes, I agree, you cannot be seen in that today. Or any day."

I chuckled. Leave it to Hayden to be the fashion police.

Hayden led me over to his desk. One perk of having a best friend who wrote the fashion column was that he always knew just how to solve any fashion emergency. The hangers clanked against the metal rack that stood behind his desk, filled with samples of the latest and greatest that it was his job to review and report on for our magazine.