And he just leaves the coasters there, walking off.
Like aheathen.
I slide out from my booth and walk over to the bar, grabbing them and gathering them up.
“Trying to take my job?” he asks.
“Seemed like you were just going to leave them there,” I tell him, going back to my booth and settling in.
I watch as he cleans the beer taps, and now I seem to have instigated something.
“I was going to get them in a second. You going to keep staring at me or actually come up to the bar?”
He says it casually, with no venom in his tone. I get the sense that he’s teasing me.
“You’ve been staring atmesince I walked in.”
He looks lightly amused. “Because you came in and got a Scotch at 2 o’clock.”
“And I'm almost ready for another. I’ll take a refill. Promise I'm a good tipper.”
He abandons the beer taps, his bar rag, and everything else he’s left behind, grabbing the bottle of single malt. He comes out from behind the bar, striding over to the edge of my table.
He eyes my glass, which is currently still in my hand. “Want to give me the tumbler, or are you waiting for me to pour it in your mouth?”
I hum, sliding the glass over on my table. “I guess you’re a fan of episode four.”
He narrows his eyes at me. “What?”
“Episode four. Where Damien leans over the bar and gets a shot poured right in his mouth.”
He neatly pours another serving for me, and I watch his lashes flick upward as he meets my gaze.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you want anything in your mouth, you’ll need to pay thatbig tipup front.”
He lifts his eyebrows at me before he walks back off.
I pause for a moment as a realization hits me, heat flooding my body.
Oh, fuck.
I’m a total douche.
I sip a little more Scotch, reveling in the fact that he doesn’t actually know who I am. He didn’t do a double-take. Didn’t pull out his phone to ask for a selfie, or say “wait, you’re that guy from…”
And I love that he didn’t.
As soon as my TV show popped off, my routine instantly got thrown into the absolute chaos of dodging paparazzi, putting out fires on social media, and morning-to-night days of interviews and meetings. I used to think the life of a famous actor would be all red carpets and TV sets. I’ve only been famous for a month, but already I know I was fucking wrong.
Sipping this liquor right now is the first moment of peace I’ve had in weeks.
Fame is more like this:
Everyone wants something from you, and you’re so grateful for it that you sacrifice sleep, time, and your overall mental well-being.
A month ago, nobody even knew your name, but now they’re showing up on street corners and at convenience stores, snapping photos of you with or without your knowledge.
And you’re too delirious to realize that your dream come true is happening all around you,finally, because holy God, there is so much alcohol surrounding you at all times.
