Page 4 of The Other Room

“Jo! Can we get more margs! One strawberry, one regular,” Andy, one of my regulars, called.

“Yep. Just a minute.” With a deep breath, I tried to quell the anxiety churning in my gut from the feeling I would never catch up. I was “in the weeds” as we called it, and as my breath caught in my throat, I couldn’t even begin to see the way out. But panic wasn’t something I had time for, so I focused on the drink order in my hand and went to work shoveling ice into the blender to make a pitcher of margaritas.

After another hour of juggling the Mt. Everest of orders, I dropped off a drink at the end of the bar and bolted back to the printer to start the process again. Skidding to a stop, I smiled when I saw no little white pieces of paper pouring out of it. I waited for the beep, for the printer to start spitting out orders again, but after a few moments I exhaled a long breath filled with relief.

Hanson stepped to my side, puffing hard. Our gazes slid across the restaurant, passing over the few patrons left at the bar, and over to the dining room tables. Only a few scattered customers remained.

“Holy shit. Are we caught up?” he asked, smoothing the ruffled mess of blonde hair that looked like he’d been victimized by a Midwestern twister. I hadn’t had time to check mine in hours, and I wondered now if it resembled his messy mop from the speeds we’d hit serving drinks tonight.

“Don’t jinx it!” I slapped him on the shoulder.

“Sorry. I should know better.”

“Yeah, you should.” The printer beeped and our groans mingled into one. “Damn it, Hanson! You’ve been bartending here for over twenty years and you still manage to break the cardinal rule of saying we’re caught up and jinxing us.”

“My bad. I’ve got it.” Sucking the air through his teeth, he grimaced then reached across me and plucked the piece of paper from the printer. “Only a couple of Bernies. Phew.”

A Bernie was the house shot at JJ’s. It consisted of a shot of tequila topped with an orange sprinkled with cinnamon and sugar. A shockingly delicious combination, and we served as many Bernies a night as we did margaritas.

After taking a moment to catch my breath, I went to work washing the glasses we’d abandoned during the dinner rush. Hanson dropped off the Bernies and joined me in stacking the clean ones on the drying rack and loading the dishwasher again.

“That was freaking nuts,” I said while I grabbed a rag and wiped the drink rings off the bar.

“Yep. Gotta love summer in Sister Bay. You regretting leaving the Blue Ox yet?” He taunted me with a grin.

Chuckling, I pointed to the tip jar. “There’s enough money in there for me to pay my property taxes and insurance for the month, so no... no regrets here. Sore feet, shattered confidence, and anxiety like I’ve never experienced in my life? Yes. Regrets? No.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He patted my back and smiled. “You’re a great addition to the team. I’m glad you joined us. You’re fast. You’re little so you don’t take up much space and I’m not always running into you, and the customers love you.”

“I’m glad I get the coveted Hanson stamp of approval.”

“Hanson. It’s still going to take me awhile to get used to that, but it’s starting to stick.”

His name was Joe Hanson, but we’d decided it was too confusing having Jo and Joe behind the bar, so we’d rolled a round of bar dice to decide who got to keep the name and who’d have to start using a nickname. I’d won three rounds in a row, and we’d settled on calling him by his last name.

“I like it, Hanson.”

He gave me a wink. “It’s growing on me.”

Grabbing a few empty glasses off the bar, I walked back over to the dishwasher. “I thought we were busy when I started here in May. That was a cake walk compared to what’s it been like since July.”

“Don’t worry, you get used to it. I stopped going home, curling up into a ball and sobbing after summer weekend nights years ago.”

I burst into laughter and bumped him with an elbow. “Damn. That was my plan for the rest of the evening.”

“We’re over the rush now, so why don’t you help me clean up and then you can be done for the night. I’ll be able to handle the night crew on my own.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Yep. We’ve got another couple of months of this, and I don’t want to burn you out and lose you before the season’s over, so consider this a ‘please don’t leave me’ bribe.”

“Bribe accepted!” I extended my hand, and he took it, giving me a nod while we shook on it. The movement caused his glasses to slip down his nose, so he pushed them back up before getting back to work.

It took me a half hour just to clean up the mess left behind from the dinner rush, stopping only to refill the drinks of the night crowd while they shook the bar dice cup, cheering over their wins and groaning over their losses.

“Shit. I put the wrong brand of tequila in this one.” Hanson walked over holding the margarita glass rimmed with a healthy portion of salt. “Here. It’s yours. Punch out, take a load off and enjoy a cocktail.”

With a sigh and smile, I took the margarita into my sore hands. “No need to tell me twice.”