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My hands shake profusely, and I try to get back to work, tuning them out and focusing on what I’m doing. I concentrate on the cash handed to me, making sure I give my customer the correct change, but my mind is boggled, and as I glance back at the row of rowdy people before me, I can’t even figure out which one I was serving.
“Yo, what the fuck is this?” a man’s voice sounds across the bar.
My head snaps up, and I watch as the older gentleman narrows his gaze on me as he walks around the bar, the customers stepping out of his way as though he’s some kind of big deal around here. He’s gotta be in his mid-forties and looks like an exhausted version of Chris Hemsworth, only where there should be muscle, it’s nothing but skin and bone.
He makes his way right down to the side entrance of the bar and passes through the little gate.
I immediately offer him my hand, assuming this is Danny. I’ve got one shot to make a good impression, and despite the way my heart races, I won’t be fucking this up. “Hey, I’m Oakley,” I say, hoping I can be heard over the crowd. “Your new bartender.”
“I don’t need any more bartenders,” he says, disregarding my hand. “I’ve got plenty.”
“Sorry to break it to you, Danny,” Heather says, not letting our conversation keep her from doing her job. “But you don’t. Cat, Reb, and Jess were no-shows, and this girl is good. Give her a chance. She’s even been overcharging on beer. Made you a nice little profit. Plus, she’s hot and flirts with the customers. They’ve all been tipping well with her here.”
Oh fuck.
“Overcharging?” I cringe, glancing at this chick who’s supposed to be the manager and has knowingly allowed me to overcharge for the past hour and a half.
She shrugs her shoulders. “Yep. Friday night, game night. Three dollar special on our house beers, but no one’s complained about it yet. If they’re willing to keep paying, then I’m willing to let it slide.”
Danny grins at Heather, more than down with ripping off his customers. “They really didn’t show up?” he questions, glancing around the bar as though magically hoping the three no-shows will just turn up.
“Yeah, not even a call,” Heather says. “Oakley didn’t think twice about it. Saw we were swamped and put on an apron.”
Danny glances my way and his gaze sails up and down my body. “Oakley, huh?” he questions with a heavy sigh, clearly seeing he’s backed into a corner. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-one,” I lie. Well, kinda. My birthday is three months away, but it’s close enough. It’s not like I’m going to suddenly become responsible the day my birthday rolls around. As far as I’m concerned, I’m just as much of an adult as anyone else in this bar.
Danny’s lips press into a hard line. He knows I’m lying, but he nods anyway. “Right, well here’s the deal,” he tells me. “This is a college bar. It’s falling apart, but it’s the best bar in town. Rowdy as fuck and the customers are assholes. If you can’t hack it, don’t waste my time.”
“I can handle it.”
“You sure?”
I nod, getting back to work while he talks. “A little ass grabbing is nothing compared to the shit I grew up with. Trust me, I’m good.”
“Alright,” he says as I risk a glance across the room, finding the three creepy stalkers still watching me, and quickly look away again. “I’ll give you a shot, but like you saw tonight, we run through bartenders like the men’s bathroom runs through shithouse paper. You last three months and prove you can handle it, then I’ll put you on the books. Until then, you’re getting paid cash, minimum wage, and whatever tips you make are yours to take home. The more you work, the more you make. It’s simple.”
“Got it,” I say, sliding three beers up onto the counter and taking the customer’s twenty-dollar bill.
“Keep the change,” the customer says with a flirty wink, trying to scoop up all three schooner glasses between his fingers at once. I smile at him and shove his change into my apron before hastily moving on to the next guy.
“What can I get ya?”
I get busy with the new order as Danny continues with his run down of how he expects this to work. “Four shifts a week minimum,” he says. “Newbies don’t get lucky. You’ll be rostered on Friday and Saturday nights unless you can get someone to cover your shift. Bar closes at 2 a.m. If it’s still busy, it stays open. The only acceptable excuse for skipping out on a shift is if you’re on your deathbed or you’ve got an exam the next day, in which case, I’ll need to see proof. Other than that, you’re working. This is a business, not a daycare. I don’t wanna hear about your problems, and I sure as fuck don’t wanna see your problems coming into my bar. Is that understood? You leave that shit at home.”
“Understood,” I say with a firm nod before my eyes discreetly wander back to the three strange guys—my problems already making their way into Danny’s Bar.
Danny catches my eyes and holds my stare for a while as if really thinking this over. “Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this?” he mutters under his breath before letting out a heavy sigh. “Alright, you’ve got the job, but you’re on probation. One fuck up and you’re out on your ass.”
“Fair enough,” I say, “and for the record, you’re not going to regret it.”
Danny scoffs and strides past me, heading for the overflowing cash register. “That’s what they all say.” He opens the till and starts going through the cash, pocketing the majority of it and leaving us just enough to give us a comfortable cash flow for the next few hours. Though at this rate, the register will be full again in a little under an hour. He turns around, his pockets bulging from the cash. “Heather will revise the roster sometime tomorrow. Make sure you give her your number and she can tell you when you’re expected to come in.”
A smirk plays on my lips, feeling as though I just got away with something, but I try not to let it show. “Thanks. I’m down with taking as many shifts as you’ve got,” I tell him. “Apparently, student loans and rent don’t pay themselves.”
“You got that right,” he says before striding past me. “I’ll be in the office if anyone needs me.”
Danny takes off, leaving us to our customers, and we quickly get back to work. A newfound confidence ignites in my chest, burning away all the stress of not knowing how I was going to pay my way through college. I suppose this job isn’t set in stone, but I won’t be doing anything to fuck it up.
