Page 6 of Bastard Bartender

Chapter Three

“Another dud?” Marie asks as I walk back to my stool at the bar.

“His name was Gavin, and he’s a card dealer on The Strip. Seemed nice but no P. He gave me his number, so maybe I’ll hang on to it for a rainy day.”

She takes the business card from my hand and tosses it into her purse. “That’s not the way it works. You have to meet them to date them, not hoard their numbers for a rainy day.” With a long puff of air, she plays with her short, dark hair and grimaces. “Damn, we didn’t have this much trouble when you were on I.”

“That’s because I went out with Ian from the third floor, remember? I should have known better than to date someone who lives in our building. No, correction: I did know better. You convinced me it was fate.”

“Yeah, I just really didn’t want to go on the great Ivan, Isaac, and Igor search. Plus, he took you to that really nice restaurant in The Venetian and then the gondola ride after, so that was worth it.”

“He’d also gotten a room before the date started because he assumed I’d pay him back with a romp in the Presidential Suite.”

Her shoulders fall. “Yeah, he was a jerk.”

“Super jerk.” I laugh and take a sip. “If anything, this spin around the alphabet has given me plenty of stories to tell. While not all men are creeps, the ones who are go big.”

“You wanna head out? Our normal one drink minimum before we move on rule went out the window four drinks ago.”

“I had fun though, so the night wasn’t a total bust. How about one more drink then we can call it a night?”

She smiles brightly. “Don’t have to twist my arm! We already have to leave my car here and Uber it home anyway.” She holds up her finger and calls Nic over. “I say we go big just like the creepy guys do!”

Our night of searching for my letter P guy quickly turned into a girls’ night and one that has been a blast. As men approach us, we’re polite and chatty, but they get the clue pretty quickly and move on. Even though we haven’t met the man I was hoping to, Marie has kept ordering drinks, and I’m not ready to get up and go either. Something about this bar is comfortable, and to be honest, Nic intrigues me.

Every chance he’s gotten, he’s hung out at our side of the bar, serving other patrons while chatting with us. He sees Marie motioning for him and starts mixing our next round without her having to ask directly. When he comes over, Marie is quick to ask something inappropriate.

“So, tell me the truth, Nic,” Marie starts, and I see his face morph into seriousness as he gets ready for her question. “Do you go home with someone new every night? Is that really why you’re a bartender?”

His eyebrows rise as he swings his head from side to side while he fills a mug from the tap. “I actually try my hardest not to date anyone I meet here.”

“Nuh-uh, no way.” She throws a nut at him and wobbles on her stool.

Yep, she’s a bit tipsy.

“I call bullshit. A hot guy like you? I bet every girl tries to go home with you.”

“Like you girls are trying to tonight?” he jokes oh-so devilishly.

Marie vehemently shakes her head because she’s had way too much to drink and is being overdramatic in her movements. “Nope. I have a man, remember? And she’s on strict dating guidelines, so you ain’t getting nothing from us.”

I give him my best she’s right expression while making the letter P with my fingers.

He slides the guy he was helping a beer and places both hands on the bar. “Honestly, there are a lot of beautiful women who walk through these doors, but it can get messy. It’s easy to find a hook-up, but when it’s go time, she’s usually way too drunk to make good decisions, which leads to some pretty regrettable ones. If I get her number and we go out but I’m not feeling it, it’s hard to shake her. What other profession can anyone you know just come to your job and sit there, watching you all day? Stage-five clingers in the bartending industry are hard to get away from.”

“That sounds like it’s from personal experience,” I say.

“That’s why I never hook up with anyone I meet at the bar.” He purses his lips as he makes another drink and walks away to deliver it.

With the alcohol flowing through me, my inhibitions loosen, and I don’t even realize I’m blatantly staring at him as he helps customers, moving around the bar so effortlessly and smiling at every customer he serves. When he catches me staring, he approaches me, leaning his elbows on the bar and getting really close.

I point my finger, which noticeably wobbles due to the alcohol I’ve ingested over the night, at his Ohio name tag on his shirt. “Why does your shirt say Ohio and not your name?”

He laughs out loud. “Like Marie said earlier, it’s supposed to be a conversation starter. I grew up outside Cleveland. You look surprised.”

“I assumed you were from here. My co-worker Tom said this is a great place for locals. I try to stay away from the tourist traps, where I’ll meet some douche with a what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas mentality.”

He shakes his head with a smile at the slogan. “It’s called Sin City for a reason. We don’t get a ton of tourists in here, but it still gets some attention. Everyone comes from somewhere originally, right? What brought you to Vegas?”