Ava
Awhole week after starting at the Shabby Shotglass flies by without a hitch, and I am beginning to like it here. Moving by yourself across the country and starting a new life can be equal parts terrifying and exciting. I was nervous about being alone and meeting new people, but I enjoy working with Tony and Emily, and I think we can become good friends. Tony has already sort of adopted me, and he has such a sparkly personality that simply being in his presence is a joy.
“Ugh, I’m so happy we only have half an hour left of our shift,” Tony says as he joins me at the bar, where I’m standing next to the till, printing the receipt for a table that’s about to leave. “I have a hot date after this, if you know what I mean.” He waggles his eyebrows as a shit-eating grin takes over his face.
“Who’s the lucky guy?” I ask, turning my head to look at him.
He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture of an attractive man with russet hair and hazel eyes.
I fan myself and smile cheekily at him. “Wow. He’s hot.”
“He also has a monster dick,” he whispers and smirks.
I narrow my eyes at him playfully. “You lucky bitch.”
“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, buttercup. But yeah, I’m the luckiest bitch alive.”
We both start giggling when Emily comes over from the other side of the bar and begins cleaning the sink and bar top since all her customers already left. “What are you two gossiping about?” She cranes her neck so she can look at the phone.
Tony turns the screen toward her with a smug look on his face. “About the hunk of a man I started dating. He’s a doctor. Well, actually, he’s going to become a doctor. He’s a resident. He finishes his shift a little earlier than we do, so he’s going to wait for me.”
“Holy smoke show! It should be illegal for anyone to look that good in scrubs,” Emily observes. “I once dated a gynecologist. Man, she really knew what she was doing. I swear she had magic fingers.” She sighs and purses her full lips. “Too bad she was married, and I had no idea.”
Both Tony and I grimace at her words.
“Ouch,” Tony says, resting his elbows on the bar.
“We were just having fun, but it still sucked when I found out.”
“I sometimes wish I was attracted to women as well. I swear some men don’t even know what a clit is.” William the Turd sure didn’t.
Emily arches an eyebrow, a salacious smile taking over her face. “Oh, some of them know. You just haven’t found the right one yet.”
“Trust me, I’ve tried,” I mutter and glance at Tony. “You can go if you want; I’ll close up tonight. It’s my turn anyway.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, biting his lip. But he’s already brimming with excitement and shuffling from foot to foot.
“Yup. There are only two tables left. Plus, Marnie’s not here, and I don’t think she cares anyway.”
He jumps up and down and throws his arms around my neck. “You’re the best, buttercup! I promise I’ll be thinking of you when I have the most earth-shattering orgasm ever.”
“Please don’t.” I laugh at his antics but cringe at the mental image because why the hell did he have to say something like that?
He disentangles from me and practically skips to the staff room as I take the check to the table of girls who are so hammered they can barely stand. After they pay, I make sure none of them intend to drive and then order a cab to take them home.
Tony comes out of the bathroom hallway near the pool tables, all ready to leave. His light gray jacket creates a stark contrast with the deep hue of his umber skin. “I’ll see you guys on Wednesday.” He blows us kisses and practically springs out the door.
Forty minutes later, I’m all alone, putting the chairs up so I can start sweeping the floor. As has been happening often lately, a shiver passes down my spine like I’m being watched again, so I look back toward the windows near the entrance but don’t see anyone.Goddammit, Ava, stop being so paranoid!I roll my eyes at how stupid I’m being.
I finish sweeping the floor, and all I have left to do is take the trash outside, mop, and then I can finally go home. Lifting the trash bags that are heavier than they look, I stride to the back door of the bathroom hallway. As I exit the bar on the dingy alley where the dumpster is, my shoe sticks to something slimy on the asphalt, making me shudder.Ew. I try not to look at what I stepped into because when I took the trash out last week, Ialmost broke my neck stepping on a used condom, and I am still pretty scarred by that experience.
Please don’t be a condom. Please don’t be a condom. Please don’t be a condom.
I decide not to look because I don’t want to waste a minute longer under the flickering lamppost’s creepy shadows as I grip the heavy lid of the dumpster and swing the trash bags filled to the brim over the lip of the container. The smell of Indian food from the restaurant next door mixed with that of rotting garbage and pee burns my nose and makes me queasy. I swear these heightened senses are so fucking annoying sometimes. I don’t like smelling garbage or someone’s body odor so easily.
The sounds of footsteps pulls my attention to my back, and I start turning around, but something jumps out of the dumpster at the same time, making me scream murder. I clutch my chest and laugh when a cat lands in front of me. It arches its back and starts hissing at me, just like Simba acted after my heart transplant.Sadness filters through me like ablack fog.
The cat disappears in the shadows, and when I take a step toward the back door of the bar, the snick of an opening switchblade slashes through the air before the smell of a cloying cologne pierces a hole in my brain. The odor is so strong I can almost taste the bitterness and metallic tang on my tongue. Dread thickens the blood in my veins. I know I should run, but I turn around instead and face the three men standing a few feet away. They are all wearing black joggers and hoodies as if they prepared for this, their faces obscured by shadows.
