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“It’s New Year’s Eve in ten days,” I told her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m getting married,” she repeated. “Sorry about the weekend, but well, he lives in Molbrook. What do you think? I’m gonna commute?” She laughed and wiggled her hand in a goodbye sort of gesture. “I’ll send my mom by for my last paycheck,” she said. “Nice working for ya, Dane.”
That was seven days ago.
I’ve been trying to find someone to replace her to help out for the coming weekend and Oriana is a welcome treat. I don’t know if she’s actually interested in bartending or if she simply needs something to get her started in her new life, but I’ll take it. She seems like a serious person, and when we’re completely swamped this weekend, I’m going to need some serious people to help keep everything together.
Chapter Two
Oriana
Deep breaths, I tell myself.
I need to take deep breaths because this can’t possibly be real.
It’s the third place I’ve tried to apply for a job, but the first that would actually take me. In small towns like these, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an outsider or if it’s because I look different from everyone else, but it doesn’t matter because I have something now. Dale is giving me a shot and I’m not going to let him down.
He’s clean-cut, for a guy working at a bar, and I wonder what his story is. He’s got tan skin with short brown hair cropped close. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in the military, at least for awhile. The tip of a tattoo peeked out from beneath his t-shirt, but I couldn’t really make it out. It might have been an anchor or some sort of nautical design. A compass, perhaps? Maybe I’ll see it sometime.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Oriana.
Willing myself to stay focused, I hang my jacket on one of the hooks in the tiny break room. It’s not a big bar, but it’s the only real place to hang out at night in this town, so I’m guessing it probably gets pretty busy. There are fifteen tables, along with pool tables and dart boards. Plus there’s the bar itself, which spans the length of the back of the room. Whoever designed this place did it with the intention of making money. That much is obvious.
The break room is comfortable and cozy. I’ve never worked at a place with a room like this before. There are hooks and cubbies along one side of the room and the other side has a couch, a coffee pot, and a little television. There’s even a blanket at one end of the couch. Does someone sleep here? Is that for the staff?
I have a lot of questions, but I try to bite them back. Dale gave me a job, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let me keep it. If I screw up, I’m out on my own. I know that better than anyone. I’ve come a long way from home and I have no intention of returning.
There’s nothing left for me to go back to, anyway.
I hurry back to the front of the bar. I shouldn’t have worn heels today, but if it means a paycheck and tips, I’m not going to complain. My feet will be hurting later, but I’m thankful to have this shot. My heels click against the floor as I scurry back over to Dane.
No one thought I was ever going to get out of that town, but I did. I left. I proved everyone wrong and I’m going to make something of myself, starting with tonight. I’m going to be the best damn waitress this bar has ever seen.
I move behind the bar and I put my purse in the cupboard Dale pointed out earlier. He’s making a drink when I come out, but he stops and looks me up and down.
“You comfortable in those shoes?” He asks.
“They’re fine,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “There’s an extra pair of sneakers in the back,” he says. “The girl who just quit left them behind. I think she was probably about your size. If you want to try them on, I guarantee they’re going to be more comfortable than when you’ve got on. Things might be dead right now, but around seven, it’s going to get busy. You probably aren’t going to want to be risking a fall in those shoes. Not with people pushing and shoving.”
“What happens at seven?”
“The college kids have a game night. It’s going to be packed. Trust me when I say you’re not going to want to be in heels. Not that you don’t look gorgeous,” he adds. “But the floors are going to be slippery because these kids are slobs and spill constantly.” He shakes his head. “I should start giving them their drinks in sippy cups,” he adds. “Not sure why I don’t.”
I choke back a snicker. “Thanks for the shoes,” I say quickly. “I’ll go find them.” I duck back into the break room, locate the sneakers, and slip them on. I regret not having socks to wear and I’ll probably get a blister, but this is definitely way better than wearing heels. I carefully set the too-tall shoes I was wearing next to the couch. I’m sure they’ll be fine back here until the end of my shift.
“Just breathe,” I remind myself, and then I head back out front. There are a few more people in the bar, and Dale motions for me to start taking orders.
“Don’t worry about charging anyone,” he says. “These are all regulars and I’ll put everything on their tabs. Just write down what they order.”
“Got it,” I say, and I move toward my first customer.
“What can I get for you?” I ask with a smile.
“For starters, how about your phone number?” The old man says with a grin.
“Bill!” Dale hollers, chastising the man. Bill sheepishly blushes.
