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“Need another beer to wash that down with?” Alex laughs, leaning his arms on the bar–his muscles flexing.
“Shut up. I was hungry. And yes, I would like another one.”
Sliding a full glass in front of me, he asks, “Anything else? I’m slammed, so you’ll have to get me while you can.” He winks. “My other bartender just called saying she can’t come in, even though she was supposed to be here an hour ago.” Sighing, he wipes the few drops of beer that spilled over onto the wood.
I don’t know what comes over me, but I find myself asking him, “Do you need help?”
“Are you asking to work?”
“If you need help.” I shrug. “I bartended back home, and I honestly have nothing to do now that I ate. Ally never texted me back.”
Laughing, he motions for me to come on back. “Alright, I’ll give you a chance. But if you become trouble or can’t handle it…”
“Then I’ll go. But trust me, I can keep up.”
Hopping down from the stool, I grab my stuff and walk around through a side door that leads to a small room next to the bar. Hanging my coat and scarf on a hook, I hide my purse in the cabinet below, and take my sweater off, leaving me in just my black tank top and jeans. I make sure my hair is covering my neck so my bruises aren’t showing, and I step out behind the bar.
Alex looks over at me and smiles. “I thought you said you’d be good tonight.”
“What?” I ask, looking down at my outfit. “I’m not bartending in a freaking sweater.”
“Okay, but you better not start any more fights.”
“Come on, that wasn’t my fault. Those guys were assholes.”
“Alright, just get your ass to work.” He jokes, walking over to a pretty woman to take her order. Rolling my eyes, I go in the opposite direction, and head straight for the two girls laughing and flipping their hair–obviously trying to get the attention of the guys a few seats down.
“Hi.” I smile. “What can I get for you?”
“Two vodka sodas,” the blonde one answers.
Nodding, I fill two glasses with ice and pull out a lower shelf vodka from the holder, pouring perfect portions. Filling the rest of the glass with seltzer, I garnish with lime wedges, and slide them forward.
“Do you have a tab open? Or do you want to start one?”
“Start one,” she says, handing me a card.
“Okay.” Walking over to the register, it takes me a second to figure out the system, but when I do, I’m golden.
Moving around the bar for the next hour is easy. I never minded bartending, I actually really liked it. I love the hustle and bustle, and mixing the drinks perfectly so that people can’t tell how drunk they’re getting. It’s an art.
“You’re doing good,” Alex says as he brushes past me.
“I know,” I reply, throwing him a smile over my shoulder.
Pushing my hair back, I smile at the guy in front of me. “What can I get for you?”
“A beer. And your number.”
“Sorry, that’s not on the menu tonight. But I can get you a beer. What kind?”
“Heineken.”
“Coming right up.” I nod, bending down to the fridge below to pull out a bottle. Popping the cap, I slide it towards him. “There you go. Do you have a tab?”
“Don’t need one,” he says, standing and placing a ten on the bar. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.”
