Callum in the wrong era

Callum preferred his coffee fresh, hot, and noir. He slicked his hair with the obnoxious beehive look even few women dared to wear. Though he was cocky and covered with leather, he was unfortunately for him, too modern to be in the wrong twenties. The busy coffee shop proving Callum a disservice.

“Sup toots,” Callum called as he approached the counter “what’s the special?”

“Coffee?” Lisa rolled her eyes, her sarcasm going unnoticed by the pylon in front of her.

“Noir, baby. Just the way I like it.” Callum popped his collar and bubblegum as he handed Lisa the money.

“When are you going to realize its 2020?” Lisa chided.

“I’m forever stuck in the fifties.”

“Clearly.” Lisa was on a roll.

Callum strode through the very modern coffee shop appearing to be stitched in from one famous noir movie about the water crisis in California. He may as well have been born in black and white, with a glistening leather jacket hugging his torso.

“Hey Callum, you need more grease in your hair?” A man snickered from across the patio.

“Hey Kyle, is your girl still cheating on you?” Callum snapped back, pointing at him with wink.

“Screw you, man.” The man retorted, flipping Callum the bird.

Callum bounced toward the office in which he had an interview. The reflection of the gleaming sunlight glared into his eyes, like every noir bad boy, his sunglasses were glued to his face.

“Hey toots, I am here to see Mister, uh,” Callum hesitated as he glanced to the paper in his other hand, “Mister Blackwell.”

“He’ll be with you in a few minutes, but I would remove your sunglasses, sir, he really likes to see people’s eyes.”

“Sure, hon. Thanks.” Callum cranes his head, a form of nod if you want to call it that. He sat with his legs crossed in a stereotypical male fashion, which disturbed at least one female waiting in the chairs to his right.

“Hey.” Callum flirted, winking at the blonde closest to him,

“Hey.” She responds without every glancing up.

“Whatcha reading?” Callum loomed for a reference of a title.

“It’s called mind your business.” Ouch, she did not miss a beat with wit and sarcasm. Not even making eye contact.

“Alright, sweetheart. I’ll leave you alone.”

“Oh darn, I thought you were going to continue asserting your dominance.” She finally peered, searing holes into his head.

“You’re too pretty to have such a sharp tongue.” Callum nearly reached for his cigarettes before remembering there is no smoking in buildings anymore.

“You’ve got too much gel in your hair.” She glanced back to her book. She felt a pang of guilt after witnessing such a handsome devil. Callum was smooth, you must give him that much. She would steal glimpses of his side profile face as she now could no longer ignore his charm.

“Callum Jones?” The man called from the hallway, his cue to see the boss. He rose slowly, enough time to wink blow a kiss to the sarcastic blonde.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Callum said with a smile, shaking the man’s hand.

“Right.” He said softly. Callum’s appearance as jarring as his speech.

“Hello Callum,” Justin said, leaning in his office chair, “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

“Yeah well, you know how it is? The dames around this joint are out of this world.”

“Did you bring your resume?” Justin folded his hands in front of him, watching Callum recline and cross his leg so his knee rested on the arm of the chair.

“You see Justin, I ain’t gonna lie to ya, I did not bring it.” Callum said, replacing the cigarette fix with a toothpick. Shall I paint you a more noir picture?

“Callum,” Justin sighed, “I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself.”

“Jay boy, you know I got it.” Callum winked.

“You are my friend, but I can’t keep covering your ass when you make it inconvenient. I’ll put in the recommendation and send you a copy of what I wrote.”

“I appreciate that.” Callum nodded.

“Come back tomorrow morning and I will make some phone calls.”

“You think those dames will be back tomorrow?”

“I can’t promise that.” Justin sneered, shaking his head as he fiddled with his fingers.

“There will be more.” Callum shrugged.

Callum exited the building with the glaring sunlight still beaming between the windows of the tall structures around him. He lit up a cigarette, feeling the smoke fill his being. “Shit, my coffee.” Callum sighed, taking a drag.

“Get out of the way!” Someone in a car yelled, directed at Callum as he crossed the street.

“Why don’t you shut up!” Callum retorted. He finally made it back to the coffee shop where Lisa pensively waited for another customer.

“I’m assuming you didn’t get the job?” Lisa crossed her arms.

“I’ll be there tomorrow.” Callum cocked his head with a grin.

“Despite the fact you look like a bad Halloween costume spoofing the fifties?” Lisa chuckled.

“Dames seem to enjoy it.” Callum smiled, tugging playfully at his leather jacket.

“That has got to be hot, it has to be about ninety outside.”

“Only as hot as the dames I see.” Callum shuffled as he rested against the counter. “Another coffee toots, it appears I drank my previous cup.”

“Whatever.” She replies, rolling her eyes as though it were a chronic condition.

“When will we ever go out on a date?”

“Never.”

“Alright, toots.” Callum exited with defeat, but not without attempting to flirt with every pretty blonde he ran into.

“So, are you confused? Maybe some kind of amnesia or something?”

“What do you mean?”

“You look like a bad eighties movie, is that makeup?” The woman asked. Stopping him on the crowded New York street, mocking his appearance.

“I’m just Callum, wanna get a milkshake?”

“You’re a pig.” She said, striding away. Callum watched her long brunette hair waved and dance in the breeze as she disappeared in the crowd. Callum shrugged it off. For him, he was obsessed with film noir, troubled bad boy, though never having lived through it. He enjoyed the old school style dress and conversation, though he was born in the early 2000’s.