So I have a dusty partial manuscript of a lesbian contemporary romance hanging about. This is a scene I wrote that sets up the main character’s plotline but won’t be in the actual book. I thought it would be a fun read.
Tea
Ginny stood in her tiny kitchen shuffling through bags and canisters of tea. The musty, floral, smoky dust drifting out of the cupboard tickled her nose. She pried open a brightly patterned metal tin full of green tea leaves and sniffed. Her wide mouth twisted and she shut the lid. Nope. Not this morning. She grabbed another canister, catching a couple of bags that slithered out of the cupboard.
“Eric, what kind of tea do you want? I can’t decide,” she called over her shoulder.
Her best friend slouched over the counter, perching on a bar stool. He shrugged. His face had a greenish tinge and his eyes were still smudged with black eyeliner. Last night had turned into this morning and neither of them had slept. Eric’s drag show had dragged on into the wee hours. A cup of tea before crashing had seemed like a good idea but Ginny’s tired brain couldn’t make a decision and apparently neither could Eric.
She sighed. “Fine, my English breakfast as usual. I just hope the milk hasn’t gone off. I meant to get some yesterday.” The giant tin of her favorite black tea was already on the counter. Ginny scooped heaping tablespoons of leaves into her trusty brown teapot and tapped her fingers, waiting for the water to boil. The kettle always took ages. Maybe one day she’d buy one of those fancy Japanese water boilers that Eric had. Maybe one day she wouldn’t struggle to pay rent and the water boiler would seem like a reasonable purchase.
The whistling kettle pierced the air and they both winced. It had been a long night and Ginny had lost track of how many drinks she’d tossed back. All of her favorite drag queens had been at the show and they all insisted on buying her a drink. She couldn’t say no. It was their way of showing gratitude for her help with makeup, hair, and backstage wardrobe malfunctions
“You really love tea, don’t you?” Eric broke into her train of thought.
She poured the boiling water over the tea leaves before shooting a glance at him. “Well, yes. What of it? You love tea too.”
He shifted on the stool, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “I love tea but not like you. You LOVE tea. Look at your cabinet. You have a monthly tea budget. And your own tea blends? Which are fantastic. You’re a tea fanatic, Ginny my love.”
She pursed her lips, watching the tea timer. “So I’m really into tea. What’s your point?”
He was silent and Ginny glanced over at him. She knew him well enough to know that look. “You’re scheming.”
Eric’s mouth dropped open for a moment then shut with a clap. “I wouldn’t say scheming exactly. It’s just that I had an idea.”
Ginny poured the tea into mismatched porcelain mugs and inhaled the aromatic steam with closed eyes. “Ideas at 6 am before tea? Not good. Here, drink this.” She shoved a mug across the counter to him.
He blew across the liquid and took a sip. “Mmm, nice, what is this?”
She grinned. “I blended some pu’er and Assam with a little Pekoe. It’s great with milk.”
He shuddered. “Milk in tea? Heathen.”
“Just because Chinese people don’t like milk in their black tea doesn’t mean I can’t like it.”
Eric put down his mug and fixed her with a stare. “My mother would kill me if I put milk in my tea. But anyway. I have an idea. About your career.”
Ginny snorted and raised her eyebrow. “Career? I don’t have a career, sweetie. I have a series of low-paying gigs and soul-killing retail jobs.”
His smile called to mind the cat who’d stolen the salmon off the counter. “Exactly. What you need is direction. Passion. Motivation.”
She gulped down her tea then wrinkled her nose at him. “You sound like a career counselor or something. What are you getting at?”
“You love tea, no you’re obsessed with tea. So make something of it. Open a business. A tea store, a booth at craft fairs, I don’t know, what about a tea room?”
The sound she made could’ve been mistaken for a cat with a particularly nasty hairball. “Tea room? Like one of those lace doily and matching china tourist traps downtown? Me? Are you kidding?”
Eric sipped his tea, waiting for her to calm down. She sputtered and huffed for a while. After Ginny’s snorts and expletives had quieted, he tried again.
“I meant something more you. Unique tea blends. Tea that people who know tea would want to drink. But nothing really high end. We already have that in Victoria.”
Ginny frowned in concentration. She did love playing with teas but she wasn’t convinced that it could actually be something she made money doing.
BJ Sikes, author 