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Probably because nobody had ever walked into that pub wearing an outfit that cost more than my handbag alone. Dress code for this place was torn denim plus a spare cigarette on top of their ear for the gents or gigantesque hoop earrings for the ladies.
“Come on in.” Ben grabbed my hand to tug me with him behind the bar.
“Have you got any spare t-shirts in the back?”
“A size small? Look at us, kid.” Ben pointed between himself and the other tall barman who both had a noticeable beer belly. “We sure got large shirts in the back if you want. And there’s scissors too.” Ben finished with a wink.
Of course, Ben would mention my torn shirts. Everyone must remember those. It was my signature uniform.
Except for the new coat of white paint, the back room was exactly the same too. Even the old lockers were still there. One of them still had my name on it. Oh, what a harsh scolding I had gotten from Ben when he saw the doodles I drew on those brand new lockers. Though all was forgotten by the next day.
I found the box of new shirts in a corner. Picked one up and searched around till I found the scissors. The shirt sleeves were the first to go, followed by the neckline. Then I wore it over my dress. Unsurprisingly it came down to under my hips, so I took the scissors to the bottom shirt’s hem, cut a vertical line along half its length, and then knotted the two separated sides over my belly button.
Now I looked more fitting behind the bar.
I returned to Ben. “Seems like you could use another hand on deck. The place is jam-packed tonight. How can I help?”
Ben continued pouring beer into a stern from the keg. “It’s alright, kid. Every night is like this. Pour yourself a drink and go sit.”
“Nonsense. When did I ever sit when I was here? Not happening today either. But I will certainly help myself to a drink first.” I planted a kiss on Ben’s cheek before collecting a clean shot glass and poured myself some tequila. I downed it at once. Then went ahead to take the order from one man at the bar.
For an hour or two, I worked the bar with the same poise as before, or rather, lack thereof, as was required in this kind of rowdy pub. It came naturally, just like I had never left. Even managed to fill every beer keg inclined at the perfect slant without wasting a single drop. Though unlike in the past, tonight I helped myself to more than one straight tequila shot. Couldn’t blame me. I needed the buzz.
It was when I started seeing a few of my childhood classmates that suddenly being a tricenarian hit me like a buckshot. Last time I had been here, I was twenty-three, shaking like a leaf in a storm and scared shitless because I was moving away on my own to restart my life. Since then, seven years of achieving triumphant success in my professional life and seven years of being an utter disgrace in my personal life.
Look at the Curly Wurly Girlies sitting in the far-end booth. They’re not only still rocking their wild curls but also proudly embracing their geekiness now. When I delivered the tray of vodka shots at their table, I discovered they were celebrating three special occasions. Marina had just been promoted to Senior Game Developer, Mary Jane had gotten engaged to her business partner and Georgina was toasting to her divorce from her husband Toby being finalized just in time before going on tour as a cellist. All three were cheering loud enough for the ex-husband sitting lonesome at the bar to hear. Too bad there was only one pub in the area. I remembered Toby from school too. He was the bully who ran cruel pranks on everyone, including his ex-wife. Boy, he surely did not age as gracefully as the girls. Nobody was envious of his perfect blonde hair now. Not with that extremely receding hairline.
“Lucy Monroe.” A deep voice called at me as I returned behind the bar. “I’d recognize my first sweetheart anywhere.”
Same as I’d recognize the gruff voice that had seduced me into giving up my virginity to this six-foot-five giant. The last I’d seen him, he was a scrawny twenty-five-year-old who hadn’t even developed a full beard. Now he was a brawny man wearing the whitest skinny teeshirt, possibly on purpose to show off his cannons for arms. With a baseball cap over his head and with his unshaven beard framing his jaw, Billy Jones was the definition of a yummy scruffy hulk. The kind of yummy that turned the heads of every female in attendance.
He sat on a stool before me and crossed his arms on the bar, the gesture making his muscular arms appear even bigger.
I tossed the towel over my shoulder and leaned my hips to the bar. I couldn’t help but stare at him a little. “Billy Jones. You’re not hiding a bald head under that cap, are you?” I joked.
“Nope. Hair’s all there.” He satisfied my curiosity by removing his cap and exposing his regular buzz cut. “You must have seen Toby, huh?”
“I did.” I couldn’t help but snicker at Toby’s fate. I call that karma for every single time he pulled on someone’s hair at school.
“I’ll let you in on some gossip. Word around here is that Georgina left him because he wouldn’t get a toupee.”
“For real?”
“Nope. But it feels good when it’s finally your turn to bully the bully, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, yea.” I couldn’t help but laugh. Billy’s sense of humour was one of the things that had always attracted me to him.
“What can I get you? Beer, the usual?”
“You know me. Still a cheap bastard.”
I brought the abomination that was his favourite beer from the fridge and popped off its cap. “So, how you’ve been?”
He set the bottle’s mouth to his lips and gulped half of it at once like the true redneck that he was, followed by a sigh of delight. “Busy running the flower shop. I’m the owner now.”
“The one you worked at since you were fifteen? You bought it?”
“Just the one. Me and my men are finalizing plans to open a second store downtown.”
