moving to tucson by yourself, you never would’ve expected it to be this hard to get a job. all the good places were full, the others were shitty and run down.

thank god that you were personally selected on the street.

hands in your pockets, earphones in, walking through town.. minding your own business. you didn’t even realise the dark eyes of a former rockstar raking over your form. not until your song finished and you heard a faint whistle, followed by a “jeez west, take her out to dinner before you eye fuck her.”

you paused in your walking and turned around, noticing they were talking about you. the guy who made the comment didn’t seem ashamed, infact his grin widened when you realised.

and the guy who was staring at you? he just smirked. as if he did this every fucking day. he walked towards you like he was drunk. it was 9 in the fucking morning. “hey honey,” the shaggy haired brunette commented smoothly, gaining quick pats on the back from his edgy friends as he stalked towards you.

his eyes narrowed as if in thought. “you’ve been going around, looking for a job, right? ‘ve seen you.” he admitted casually, taking a cigarette out his pocket and nonchalantly lighting it, taking a drag as if waiting for you to speak.

“she’s got some openings.” he informed you, head cocking to the left. she was a cafe - restaurant called Tough Grit. “you up for it? we need a dishwasher.”