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I turn on my heels and walk over to her, shooting out my hand to shake hers.
“Hi, I’m Riley, I was told you might be hiring some part time?”
She takes my hand, and her eyes pinch together. She shakes it slowly a couple times and let’s go. I put my hands behind my back and squeeze my hands into fists, hoping it will help calm the nerves that have crept up my chest and are now stuck in my throat.
“Hi Riley, I’m Gennie and yes. I am looking for someone who can work Friday through Sunday. They are long shifts, but if the right crowd shows up, the tips are great. Have you had experience behind a bar?”
“Lots actually. From all over the place.”
“Are you busy tonight?”
“Nope. I actually got into town early this morning.”
“I can let you try it out tonight. My bartender can give you a run-down of what is to be expected.”
“That sounds good to me, but I have to let you know. I am not a permanent replacement.”
“Honestly, if you can stay through the summer months, that’s what I need. Once winter hits everything will slow down, and one bartender can handle it.”
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“So, like three months?” I ask. Hoping that will be long enough to build my savings back up, and travel to my next few destinations.
“Yeah, that should be good.”
“Perfect. What time do you want me back here?”
“Be here at seven, and Grayson can show you around. You two will be working together on the weekend, so you will have to get used to him.”
“Get used to him? Is he that bad?”
“The boy is a mess right now, but he’s a good guy. Grew up here and knows all the locals.”
That’s not intimidating at all, said no stranger ever.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I have a good relationship with most people.”
“Great. Everyone that comes in here is usually friendly, it’s that small town hospitality.”
“I love it already”
“Perfect. Come back tomorrow at the same time and I will let you know if you are hired.”
“Will do. And thanks for giving me the opportunity. It really means a lot.”
“Yup” Gennie says and nods once, then heads towards the back room.
As I am making my way towards the front of the bar to leave, the toe of my shoe catches on a dip in the hardwood floor. There
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is a spot, a few spots, which looks like they have been ground down to the concrete. I rub the spot with my shoe, as if it’s going to come to me why there are holes in the hardwood, but when I lift my head to ask the bartender about them, there’s no one there. I could have sworn I saw her opening cabinet doors and pulling out liquor bottles a moment ago.
I shrug my shoulder and leave the bar and start down the street, back to my camping spot for the next few hours before I have to be back. I am excited. Three months will fly by and then I can go south.
