"Spring has officially sprung!" Sloane leans on the counter that holds the register, drumming her fingers on the surface. She notices the polish chipping off one of her nails, and inwardly groans. "Which is like... so totally wonderful, because we've just gotten in our new seasonal drinks!" She pastes on the smile, but even she's annoying herself this morning. "We've got a jazzy little maple number with syrup straight from Vermont. The most divine strawberry matcha. Oh! And my personal favorite. A carmalized banana latte. It's beyond." Sloane blinks, eyes back on the customer. "What can I getcha'?"
The party was in full swing, and god, Sloane had missed this. Everything was festive, she was in a cute costume, and people were having fun all around her. Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads was blasting and Sloane spied around the room, taking a sip, seeing who she could find. Her eyes landed on a new face, but he was dressed as one Flynn Rider and he was certainly tall. Walking over, she tapped him on the shoulder with a smile. "Hello, new best friend. Now show me that smolder."
The morning had a sizable rush, and Sloane knew this might make her crazy, but she kind of liked it. Service work wasn't favorable, of course. She had big, tangible dreams that seemed to slip through her fingers, but with all of the time she spent in New York, scraping to get by, she got good at this. Talking to customers, over and over and over again. She knew she looked the part, that sort of "girl next door" doe-eyed thing that people wanted in a position like this. Always had a smile on her face, even if it was posed. A pep in her step, if you will.
She wrote her regular's name on his cup, grinning as the older man teased her, as he had started to do. She laughed, a quick remark rolling from her lips, as she looked up and spotted Eddie Dupont walking in. Curious. He had said he might, over text, but she wasn't sure it would happen. "Eddie." She smiled into saying his name, giving him a once-over. The texts were texts but now he was in front of her, and she couldn't help that he looked good. "Hot or iced for that Vanilla latte? It's on me, as long as you sit up at the counter so I can be distracted from the actual work."
do you hear SUDDENLY I SEE BY KT TUNSTALL playing? oh, that must be SLOANE MURPHY breezing by. i don’t know if you recognize them, but they look like MOLLY GORDON to me. i heard that SHE has been in town for 9 MONTHS (+ 18 YEARS GROWING UP), which is crazy considering they are 29 years old. yeah, they live over on ELECTRIC AVENUE, and i heard that they work as a/n PODCASTER & BARISTA AT COASTAL COFFEES . i love that they remind me of SUNDRESSES, WRITING IN A DIARY, ROLLERSKATES, STACKS OF PLAYBILLS & A POSTCARD FROM NEW YORK CITY, but … ugh, their playlist is so weird. why is/are HEARD IT THROUGH THE GRAPEVINE in the queue?
Full Name: Sloane Murphy
Nickname/s: Murph, Sloaney
Faceclaim: Molly Gordon
Gender // Pronouns: cisfemale // she/her
Age // Date of Birth: 29 // June 4th
Hometown: Cider Point, MA
Occupation: Podcaster & Barista at Coastal Coffees
Neighborhood: Electric Avenue
Time in Cider Point: 9 Months (and her first 18 years of life)
TW: Broken Engagement, Age Gap Relationship, Cheating
BIO:
Born and raised in Cider Point, the youngest child of two.
In many ways, her older brother was the heir, and she was the spare. He was steady; brilliant, and precise. She, in turn, was loud and dramatic. He’s a lawyer now, in Boston. They’re still quite close.
Theatre was her first love, and oh, how she loved it. She spent her childhood performing for anyone who would watch her.
She loved her upbringing, but since she was young, she felt like she was meant for something bigger — like the town was never going to be enough to lift up her dreams.
Her parents, the owners of a flower shop in town, loved her loudly. They saw a spark in her and knew that she felt happiest on a stage. Much like some plants, she thrived in the light.
She grew up in a house, dotted with flowers outside. She quickly fell head over heels for her the boy who lived nextdoor. From the moment they met as kids, they became best friends. Something simply clicked, and Sloane’s love for him grew as they did.
As time moved through, she sought out every opportunity to act, sing & dance. She was cast in everything, rising to be a bit of a star of the Cider High theatre department. She loved it, but it wasn’t built on ego.
During this time, she and her neighbor started dating, naturally. It made sense, and their relationship was such a happy one. It was filled with school dances, trips to Boston, and milkshakes at the diner.
Sloane had friends whom she loved, but the neighbor was her best. She believed he was her soulmate, as far as other people went. But there was a nagging voice in her head that told her that it wasn’t going to last. Not if she allowed herself the chance to chase her dreams.
He was the most supportive of that, because of course he was. He wasn’t going to let her stay for him, and she would have been miserable if she had. But as she sat on the plane, to her new life, she felt her heart break. This was her first love, but it wouldn’t be her last.
New York City chewed her up and spat her out within minutes. She was one of so many starry-eyed, small-town girls. She wanted so much, but she was just like the rest. Nothing made her special here.
She held too many jobs to stay afloat. Waitressed, worked as a barista, walked dogs, temped at offices, and tried being a cater-waiter at one point. Auditioned constantly— black box theatres, student films, commercials, anything. Booked some roles in small shows, but nothing really stuck.
Developed a love for storytelling beyond acting—kept journals full of dialogue, and people-watched wherever and whenever she could.
In her first year, she went hard into dating. She was not only grieving the end of her childhood love, but she also had dwindling funds. Dinners and drinks meant she was being fed.
It was a few years of this. Of auditioning hard, to no avail. Of pounding the pavement, with nothing. Of dating creeps just to have a solid dinner.
And then one night, everything suddenly changed. She was temping at a gala, and she ran into Jefferson Mays, a prominent casting director. He was charming, and much, much older, but Sloane was starry-eyed, and he liked that about her.
She maybe thought he’d see potential in her… and that’s sort of what he promised, at first.
Really, he wanted to keep her. As arm candy. As someone to have in his glittery, gorgeous penthouse. Someone to stay. How was Sloane supposed to say no to that?
Through the two years of dating him, her sixth and seventh years in New York, respectively, she auditioned for less and less. She didn’t really have to work as hard, outside of acting, because she was taken care of. But as the time went on, the spark began to dull.
And then he proposed. And everyone was concerned, because this was a man who was far older and this wasn’t his first marriage, and he had so much power in the very industry she loved. She said yes.
It was two more years of being engaged, and he promised an elaborate wedding. That never saw the light of day.
Sloane caught him with some young Broadway dancer, and of course it hurt. Even falling out of love with him over time, she felt so stupid. Still.
She left and took the ring and sold it immediately. She stashed the money and tried to make New York work for another year, but it felt empty. She was all but blacklisted, and she didn’t want to hustle anymore.
Packed her things and moved back to Cider Point, telling everyone it was “just for a few months.” It’s been nine.
Besides her parents, few people in town even know she was engaged. They know she tried and failed, and that was that.
Moved in with Avani on Electric Avenue, happy to try and heal with a friend by her side.
She has enough barista experience from all of those odd jobs, so she now works at Coastal Coffees. Her regulars adore her. But she can’t shake the feeling that everyone is a bit disappointed in her outcome. She knows she is.
Started a podcast, almost as a joke, when she got back to town. “Spill The Beans” is a show about a barista who just moved back to a small town. It’s about Cider Point life, and all of the gossip that comes along with it, that comes along with starting over. She self-financed it with the money she got from the ring. THe podcast has blown up.
A little impulsive, a little nostalgic, a little lost. Craves purpose and meaning but is slowly learning to find it in small, quiet moments.
Headcanons:
Sings showtunes while doing dishes. Loudly, dramatically, as if she’s back onstage.
Uses way too many exclamation points in her texts.
Has a bad habit of leaving half-empty coffee cups all over her house. One in the bathroom, one on the windowsill, one in the car.
When she was in New York, she bought a bright blue Mini Cooper that she affectionately named Blueberry. She loves it.
Sloane was feeling a little messy, lately. She just wanted to have fun, and she was tired of living in her head about her shortcomings. So where better to go than just out of town, under the glow of strobe lights, music blaring out of the speakers? She sidled up to the bar, and before she could even order her Paloma, she recognized the man next to her. "Holy shit, Spencer?" She hadn't seen him since high school. He had certainly gotten older and hotter, and Sloane, already a bit tipsy, had a little glint in her eyes. "How are you? Haven't seen you in... forever, hm?"
