Page 14 of The Other Half

For the next hour she gave me a basic rundown of how to count the alcohol while I poured, how to work the soda gun and the other basics I would need to know. Some of it I knew from my crash YouTube studying, but letting her in on my secret helped shed some of the stress I felt starting my very first job. At least now the only thing I would need to keep from her was my identity.

Sweat beaded on my brow while I struggled to keep up with the orders getting called over the bar. Jo was right. The bar went from empty to packed in under an hour. Locals bellied up to the bar and tourists flocked in, each oohing and aahing over the same décor I’d been gawking at earlier. The ring continued flying through the air while bimini games caused laughter and good-natured taunting between friends. Pool balls clanked together, and the gambling games chirped in the corner, adding to the music pouring out of the old jukebox. It wasn’t like any club I’d been in, but the same energy pulsed through this old bar.

“Another Bud Light, Cassie!” Jo called. Since I had no experience mixing drinks, she’d put me on beer duty while she did the heavy lifting. Moving faster now that I was learning where things were, I grabbed a bottle from the cooler and slid it into the bottle opener nailed to the side of the bar. With the flick of my wrist the top popped off. I was still struggling not to cheer and clap for myself every time I accomplished the smallest thing.

“Here you go!” I said, setting it in front of her while she shoveled ice into glasses.

The door swung open again, and I groaned when I saw more bodies pushing in. We were already so busy. There was no way Jo could keep up on her own and I felt guilty for lying to her and putting her in this position. Money waved at us while everyone vied for our attention, each desperate to be the next served.

“I can make drinks, too, Jo.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. I’ve got this.” Remembering I had an MBA before I got sidetracked, I knew I could figure this out.

“Who’s next?” I shouted, and the money flapped harder.

“Spotted Cow!” A woman called, and I laughed. My first official order and I was back to tapping beer.

Once I’d filled it and rang up her money, I turned around to the next person who’d just sat down. A camouflage baseball cap was tipped over his face, and he stared at the bar, elbows resting on the jagged wood.

“What do you need?”

Slowly his head rose, and a pair of icy blue eyes appeared underneath the brim of his cap. When they clapped onto mine, the intensity inside them forced me to step back, and I bumped the rack of glasses behind me, sending one to the floor. With a gasp I turned and watched it bounce across the floor, exhaling a deep breath when it rolled to a stop unbroken. Snatching it up off the floor, I fumbled while I set it by the dishwasher. When it was safely in place, I looked back up to see those translucent blues still watching me.

Those eyes. Not only were they beautiful, they were familiar. Something in them resonated with me, but the face surrounding them wasn’t one I’d seen before, and definitely one I’d never forget. That rugged jawline and those firm lips would have been the envy of every photographer in New York. With his broad shoulders, straight nose, and those piercing eyes situated beneath contrasting dark eyebrows, all I’d need to do is strip him of his camouflage outfit, toss him in a suit and he could own any runway at Fashion Week.

“Uh, hi,” I stammered. “I, uh, I... Can I get you a drink? Rusty nail? Bay Breeze? Alabama Slammer? Greyhound?” I started nervously rattling off the four drinks I’d memorized last night after searching “Drink recipes every bartender should know.”

Those eyes impaled me while he studied my face. The muscles around his jaw tightened momentarily, and I waited for him to speak.

“Whiskey coke,” he said, his coarse voice caressing the simple words. With a face and a voice like that, maybe movie star made more sense than a fashion model. How a man with features like that was sitting at a bar in Wisconsin and not at a swanky club in New York was a question I didn’t think I’d ever find an answer to.

“Sure, yeah. Coming right up.” I started away then paused, lifting a finger to my chin. “Wait, what’s all in that? Just whiskey and coke?”

One of his dark eyebrows rose. “Yep.”

“Oh, yeah. Makes sense.” Come on, Cassie! Flustered from the way he looked at me, I felt my face heat to boiling. It wasn’t that he looked at me like most men did, like someone they wanted to take home and screw. There wasn’t lust inside those eyes watching me, but a sadness that permeated the air around him. It settled around him like a cloak and I could see the sorrow brewing in those eyes before he dropped them back to the bar. It seemed as if it pained him to look at anything. Especially me. When the brim of his hat covered his face, part of me wanted to reach out and take it off. I hadn’t quite had my fill of the show.

Grabbing a tub, I filled it with ice and worked my way down the rail until I found the whiskey. Counting to three like Jo taught me, I poured it over the ice then picked up the soda gun and aimed it into the glass. Pressing the button marked “C” I watched red liquid shoot out.

Cranberry juice. Damn it! C is for cranberry not Coke, I remembered too late. Looking over, I saw him peek out from under his cap just in time to see me mess up his drink. With cheeks flushing even hotter from embarrassment, I dumped it out and got a new glass, repeating the process and this time pressing “P” for Pepsi. After I’d successfully made my first drink, I carried it toward him, moving behind Jo while she finished up her own drinks. She spun around fast and collided into me, sending his drink pouring down the Blue Ox tank top she’d given me to wear.

“Shit!” she called out, covered in some of her own drinks. “You’ve got to say ‘behind’ anytime you move behind me, remember?”

“I’m so sorry!” I said, remembering those instructions that must have flown out of my head that was bursting with new information.

The man at the bar stared at me again and then at the mostly empty glass I still clutched in my hands. When our gazes locked again, flashes of the unique eyes belonging to the mystery man in the funny suit hovering over me invaded my mind. Those were his eyes that had stared at me when he saved me from the snake. Even though his face had been covered with paint and his body covered in camouflage fur, I knew those were the same eyes now. My savior. I knew him from the snake incident, and that’s why I didn’t remember his face. It had been covered in black and green paint. Recognizing him sent me backward a step again, and I bumped into the glasses. Again. Two tumbled to the ground, and I cringed when I heard them shatter.

“Seriously?” Jo shouted over her shoulder and I cringed a little more.

“Sorry!” I said, but my eyes moved back to his. The heat that had already been building in my cheeks rose to unbearable levels. I worried my skin would slough off at any moment.

“Brooms by the register!” Jo shouted.

“Sorry,” I whispered to him while I raced by and grabbed the broom. But his eyes were already back on the bar, his shoulders slumped while he sat in silence.

Hurrying to clean up my mess, I swept the glass into the pan and dumped it in the garbage. When I was done, I made him a new drink and carried it across the bar with the same care I would as if it were a bomb ready to detonate at any moment. After I set it down in front of him, he glanced up and gave me a gratuitous nod before sliding it into the camouflage cocoon his body made over the bar with the way he hunched.