“I have to,” I say simply, my hands curling into fists. “Anyway, I’m going to leave now and we’ll pretend thisconversation never happened. Not sure what you got out of it anyway.”
He pushes off the wall and stands in front of me with a bright smile. “Got you to open up, Lil. I’ll take it as a win. Get going, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”
I rearrange the jacket hanging over my shoulder and clear my throat, trying to banish all the emotions welling within me.
“Try not to burn the place down while I’m gone.”
“I’ll do my best, captain.”
When he opens the door, the humid smell of the bar wafts out. It’s not unpleasant and I’ve become used to it after all these years. The smell of alcohol, citrus and expensive cologne all tangled up together. It hits me right in the face, though, reminds me who I am and what I have to do. I don’t have time for idealistic wishes about the future.
I only have here and now. Living in the moment is my motto.
It’s all I’ve got.
The walk home takes me five minutes. It’s efficient, living so close.
I live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment that’s never really felt like home to me. I’ve been living here since I started working at the bar. Carlos hooked me up with the place. The apartment is small enough that I could see almost all of it from the doorway. I shove the door shut with the heel of my sneakers and lean against it for a second.
A sagging olive green couch in a cramped living room, a kitchenette with chipped white cabinets and a single narrow hallway leading to the bedroom. It’s not exactly an ugly place. It just doesn’t feel like mine. Cracked paint and scratched woodenfloors. It’s a good enough place for a girl trying to survive in the city.
It holds no real trace of me except for half burnt scented candles lining the windowsill and half written song lyrics on papers scattered across the coffee table. Then there’s a record player in the corner that I use on nights when the silence becomes too loud. I could pack up my entire existence and leave at any moment. Maybe I’ll have to one day.
After taking off my sneakers, I head into the bedroom and practically collapse into the bed. It’s my favorite part of the house.
Groaning softly, I think about the fact that the day isn’t over yet.
I was up and out of the house early for my waitressing gig. After about six hours, I left the restaurant and was heading home to rest when Carlos called and said he was swamped at the bar because of a sudden influx of customers. There’s usually not a lot of people at the bar during the day. But since I was the closest employee available I went to help out and I still have to go back again later tonight for my actual shift.
My vision dims slightly, and the hollowness in my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten anything since earlier today at the restaurant. I consider standing up to prepare some food, but I also can’t summon the energy to do it, nor do I feel like wasting the meagre precious time I’ve got. Luckily, I left half of a granola bar on my nightstand, which I grab and eat before getting my phone to set an alarm to wake me up in two hours, then drift off to sleep.
The lounge sits on the corner of a dimly lit street tucked between a pawn shop and a store that sells used clothes. From the outside, Zell looks pretty unimpressive. There’s a fadingblue sign above the entrance and dark tinted windows. On some nights, impatient patrons linger near the door, waiting to get in. Usually on weekends. But weekdays are slow and most of the time, the patrons we do have, come to see me.
Or at least, hear me.
Soft pop music drifts through the speakers as I walk in. The bar isn’t some bougie, fancy place but it’s nice enough that it attracts all sorts of clientele. Carlos is behind the bar at the moment, pouring liquid smoothly while having a conversation with the couple that must have ordered something. They all laugh at something and I shake my head, watching the smile lines around his face wrinkle. Carlos is such a people person. He really chose the perfect job.
I note that there aren’t a lot of customers tonight as I approach the bar. One of the part-timers, Bryan, is standing at the edge of the room waiting for any orders or anybody who might beckon with a request.
“Hey, sport,” Carlos acknowledges. “I should have called you not to bother coming. We’re having a slow night it seems.”
He places two drinks in front of the couple and they thank him before heading over to take a seat at the table.
“Slow night, busy day, are we sure this is still a bar?” I ask.
He chuckles gesturing towards the stage tucked into the far corner of the room. It’s small, barely large enough for the microphone stand and piano, but when the spotlight hits it, the entire room seems to narrow around whoever stands there. On some nights, the patrons get to sing karaoke up there.
But usually it’s for me. I spend a huge amount of my time here up on that stage.
“Feel like singing tonight?”
“Nothing else to do, is there? Plus, I even wore a pretty dress,” I state, taking off the coat hanging on my shoulders to reveal my outfit.
It’s a short off shoulder black dress that hugs my every curve. I paired it with sneakers because it’s all I ever really wear. I’ll look sexy any day but I also need mobility for my job.
“You look beautiful, Lily,” Carlos says sweetly. “Head on up there then. I need to head somewhere for a bit but I’ll get Bryan to man the bar until you’re done with your number.”
“No problem,” I tell him.
