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I decided on honesty. “Yes, sir.”
“License and registration.”
I nodded and gave him a tight smile before I handed over the paperwork. “Would you mind if I called my work to let them know I’m running late?”
The cop nodded and I dialed the number.
“Fiona, it’s Penny. I got pulled over by a cop. I might be a few minutes late.” With the pace of how slow the cop moved it appeared I would be later than a minute or two. More like half an hour at his snail’s pace.
Hurry up please.
“Ok, get here as soon as possible. Mr. Sullivan is already here. And you’ll never believe it, Richie quit. Said he didn’t want to work for a new owner.”
Great, just what I wanted to hear. I hung up, tossing my phone in my handbag as the cop ran my license.
My mind reeled with news of Richie, who would manage the bar now? I wanted to.
I tapped the steering wheel hoping the movement would hurry him along. It didn’t. I blew my wispy bangs from my eyes as I tapped my foot in rhythm to my hyper fingers.
My body heated as the warm air drifted into the lowered window of my little red Jetta causing a tiny bead of sweat to trickle down between my breasts.
My eyes drifted to the clock again. The Bearded Goat would be opening in twenty minutes. I ran a mental checklist through my mind as I thought of the quickest way to handle the workload.
After what seemed like hours, Officer Snail finally returned my paperwork and sent me on my way with a ticket for running the red light. Asshole.
Getting to work ten minutes before opening didn’t leave me much time and it certainly didn’t give off the best first impression I hoped for. Ever since I heard about the buyout and new owner, I was upset—with myself mostly. Mainly because I planned on speaking to Richie about giving me more responsibilities at the bar. At Nectar I was head bartender, and even sometimes a shift leader, taking care of inventory and scheduling. I was more than qualified and knew all the regulars by name. The Bearded Goat needed an overhaul, and I knew what to do to turn it into the money maker it should be. Just because I was new at this bar didn’t mean I was new to the industry. I knew my fucking shit.
Instead of speaking to Richie, I chickened out while waiting for the ideal moment, which was like waiting for rain in a desert. Funny thing, there never was a perfect time and if you waited for it, then you’d be left waiting an eternity. My whole life I waited for the perfect moment, you know, the one where your whole life falls into place. I wanted more than anything to be a success without my father’s help, but all I ever had was a lifetime of regrets, it seemed. Talking to Richie should have been easy, but instead I let it slip away. Now, with a new owner, who apparently knew nothing of the industry, according to the rumor mill, I worried I wouldn’t get the opportunity again.
When I finally got to work, I ran to the heavy wooden door of the Bearded Goat and swung it open. The coast was clear except for a few cocktail servers setting up the seating area along the back deck. Making haste, I threw my bag behind the bar and assessed exactly what needed to be done before opening.
Everything.
Hustling my ass from front of the house to back of the house, I set everything up as the first customers entered through the doors. My bangs stuck to my forehead from the early morning humidity in the air, and a few soft waves escaped my ponytail.
“Penny, check the Heineken tap, it was running low yesterday,” Seth said from across the bar before heading back into the kitchen.
Behind the bar, I pulled on the brass handle of the spigot. Foam overflowed and I quickly slammed it off. The Goat offered thirty beers on tap, so when a keg went empty I became a pro at changing them in a second.
Cold air blew in a rush over me when I entered the cooler and found the new Heineken keg wasn’t where it should be. As I tried rolling it over to the spigot, I realized it was pointless, it wouldn’t even budge. Determined, I nearly threw my back out as I tried again, grunting slightly as I made little progress.
As I bent over trying to finagle the keg, a shadow blocked the bright light from the kitchen shining into the dimly lit space.
I glanced over my shoulder, not really noticing who walked in, only noticing how the door was quickly closing behind him. “Hey,” I called out, “don’t let the door…” The door slammed, locking us both inside. “shut,” my voice trailed off.
“What?” the stranger asked, turning to face me, but I was already racing toward the door.
“The door is locked now, geniu
s.” I brushed past his tall frame and jiggled the handle. I dropped my forehead to the cold metal and let out a sigh.
“Well, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Really?” I asked, glancing over my shoulder up at him. If looks could kill, he’d be dead.
His gaze met mine for the first time since our predicament and a shiver coursed through me. I didn’t know if it was from the cold of the cooler, or his eyes. His eyes.
I’d seen those before, deep and dark, holding mine months ago as he owned my body in the moonlight.
