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THE OLD-FASHIONED GLASS SITSon the rubber mat as I pour a double shot of Jack into it. Once finished, I lift it and place it onto a cocktail napkin just as Massimo slides into the stool at the other side of it.
“I almost thought you weren’t gonna make it today,” I say, biting my bottom lip.
Massimo has been coming here every Thursday since the first night he came in late last year, but he’s usually early, before the dinner rush. It’s nearly 11:00 p.m., so I’m surprised to see him here this late but really happy he chose to still come by.
I’ve been bartending at the Florentine Cafe for a year and a half. I started working here during my last year of undergrad because the place where I used to wait tables had closed. Tracy, the manager from that restaurant, started working here, and she knew I always wanted to bartend. When there was an opening, she offered it to me.
The Florentine is an Italian restaurant in Boston’s North End, Boston’s oldest neighborhood that’s a thriving community of locally owned shops, restaurants, bakeries, churches, and schools. It’s often referred to as the Little Italy of Boston because of its long and storied connection to Italy and its culture. Although it’s a restaurant, the bar scene here is formidable, especially since we’re one of the few places that stay open late every night.
“You miss me?” he asks before sipping his whiskey.
“Maybe,” I tease.
“I haven’t missed a week yet. Wasn’t about to start now.” His stare is intense, and my heart thunders in my chest at his words.
“Good to know I can count on you.”
He’s smirking, his tongue running along his teeth, before sipping his whiskey again.
“You can always count on me.” His words make me blush.
“Is that right?”
He nods yes, our gazes lingering on one another.
“It’s quiet in here tonight,” he says, looking around the restaurant.
“It’s quiet now. It was busy earlier since we had nice weather. Probably not many warm nights left, so Tracy opened up the windows. Why you here so late tonight?”
“Tomorrow is our grand opening. We were putting the finishing touches on everything.”
“Well, that’s exciting. You’ve been talking about it for months; I’ll have to go check it out soon.”
“I’d like that.” Happiness spreads across his face.
“Lena,” Marcus, my friend who’s working the bar with me tonight, calls for me. Marcus was here when I joined the team, and we instantly hit it off. We’re on the bar together four nights a week, which means he’s basically my work husband. Almost every Friday and Saturday night we hang out after work, whether it’s grabbing food at one of the late-night spots or having drinks somewhere. We like to wind down after a busy night and scope out cute guys together.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Massimo.
I stride toward Marcus, who’s at the computer. He’s slightly taller than me, with a short buzz cut and light brown skin. I look up at him and ask, “What’s up?”
“I see your delicious man is here tonight,” he whispers, wiggling his eyebrows.
“No suh! He isn’t my man, not yet at least.” I wink.
“Oh yeah? You finally gonna go out with him?”
“Yeah, I think I’m ready to say yes. But he doesn’t know that yet,” I add, leaning into the shelf to my left. “It’s been two months since Stefano left me; I think it’s time I move on.”
“Girl, Stefano was an asshole. The best thing that ever happened to you was him leaving. Good riddance! Besides, that fine piece of ass—” he points to Massimo, who’s behind me “—is feening for you.”
Once Marcus and I became closer, it was no secret that Marcus hated Stefano. They tolerated each other because of me. Marcus and Luci hit it off right away over their mutual hate of Stefano.
Massimo has asked me out a few times in the past, but each time he did, I rejected his invitations because I was still in a relationship with Stefano. Eventually, he stopped asking, although he didn’t stop coming into the bar every week. When Massimo found out I was single again, he told me to let him know when I was ready to date a real man.
“You didn’t call me over here to remind me how fine he is.”
“Since I’m closing tonight, I’m gonna take a smoke break and go to the bathroom before you leave,” he tells me.
