“Yea, we fucking do,” he jokes, slowly starting to loosen up a bit.
Once around back, Alex and I step down into the lowered entrance door to the kitchen. I tap the camera doorbell once and wait for José, my head bartender, to let me in.
The double bolt lock slides, making a loud sound as José swings the door open. He has a dingy bar mop towel draped over his shoulder, as I hear him yell something in Spanish to his wife, Wanda, who also bartends for me a couple nights a week. I could only make out bits and pieces of what he is saying to her. Despite Spanish being my mother’s native language, she wasn’t around long enough to teach me the language fully.
José is around my father’s age, in his upper sixties, though, you would never guess it with how physically fit he keeps himself. The only thing that gives away his age is the not-so-subtle limp he has acquired after an accident on a construction site he was working at over a decade ago. Most days, it doesn’t affect his ability to work the bar, but on the rare nights like this one, where the patrons expand past the usual townies that frequent The Sandy Claws, having the help of his younger wife, Wanda, is much needed.
“How’s it going, Boss?” José asks as he turns his back to the heavy metal door, keeping it open for Alex and me to walk past.
“Pretty good, José. How’s business tonight?”
“Crazy, man. It’s fucking wild tonight. All these out-of-towners and college students. I hope you don’t mind, I had Wanda come in, just to give me an extra hand,” he responds as he slides the bolt lock back in place.
Wanda’s caramel-highlighted curls bounce as she waltzes over with a pissed off expression on her face. Her eyes widen when she looks past Alex and me toward José. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I need his help. It’s a madhouse out there.”
I nod in agreement. “Of course, I won’t keep your husband any longer. Thank you, José.”
Wanda smiles at me, then directs a stern expression back toward José as she motions him to keep it moving and leads him back to the bar.
Alex and I make our way through the bustling kitchen to our usual spot at the back corner of the bar. It’s my preferred place to sit, since it allows me to look at all who enter the bar while I am there. It is crucial that I never have my back turned. I never know who is going to attempt to stab me in it, so I need to always be on the lookout.
José finishes serving two blonde women sitting at the bar before he shouts over the loud music in our direction.
“Usual, Boss?” he asks.
I nod, holding up two fingers, indicating that tonight’s whiskey on the rocks needs to be a double pour.
“You got it!” shouts, directing his attention over to Alex. “You too, Alex?”
Alex nods as he sinks into his chair, as if trying to blend in.
I loosen my jacket and chuckle at Alex’s demeanor. “Yes, make his a double, too,” I answer for him, since José is still staring at us, confused by Alex’s body language.
José turns to grab the bottle of Jack from the glass shelf, when I notice one of the blondes he just served has her eyes locked on mine. She twists around on the tall barstool, revealing a form-fitting bodysuit that has her full tits spilling out and on display. She flashes me a pearly white smile before she seductively bites on her plump lower lip. I smirk back, briefly, then continue to take off my sports coat and turn my attention back to Alex, who I see is practically drooling over said blonde.
“Shit, Carmine, that chick is sexy as hell.” He adjusts his hoodie, leaning forward in his chair, glancing at her once more. “She is here almost every week, always eyeing you. I don’t know why you waste your time obsessing—”
I raise my hand to cut him off. Alex shifts his gaze from the seductive blonde to my now raised hand, signaling him to think about what he is going to say before he continues.
Before either of us can say anything, José comes over and sets both double whiskeys down on the small round table in front of us. I grab the glass quickly, causing some of the precious amber liquid to splash up and onto the outside of the glass. I take my index finger and run it along the whiskey now dripping down the glass. I bring my whiskey-soaked finger to my mouth as I shoot a devious side-eyed glance over to the blonde, who hasn’t taken her sights off Alex, or I since we sat down.
I watch as she shifts in her seat, biting down on her lip even harder than before as I suck the whiskey off my finger. She is so visibly turned on by my blatant flirting that her friend, with hair so light in comparison it looks white, is even eyeing me in anticipation of what I do next.
Alex clears his throat after witnessing my little flirtatious game and interrupts.
“That’s what I mean, Carmine. You can have any woman you want. I just don’t understand why you waste so much energy obsessing and creeping after … you know,” he says, raising his bushy brows.
“It’s not obsessing,” I lie. “You of all fucking people should understand why I am the way I am.”
It’s not a matter of me being able to have anyone I want. I know that, and it’s not even me being cocky. Facts are facts. Most women I run into seem to throw themselves at me, much like Blondie One and Two over there. It’s not that I can’t get anyone, the problem is I don’t want just anyone. I want her, and until I can make her mine, the rest of the world can go fuck right off.
Shaking his head at my response, Alex gulps his whiskey down, letting the last sip drip down his chin. He wipes away the mess from his face and slams the glass down, looking past the two flirtatious blondes and signaling to Wanda for another round.
“So, you said you have updates,” I try to bring the conversation back to business as I light another cigarette.
“Dude, you are not supposed to smoke in here,” he pesters.
A deep chuckle forms in my throat before I take another puff. “What are you going to do, dear cousin, arrest me?”
