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"Don't even go there, Ry. Or you won't be able to sit down for a week when I'm finished with you."
Chapter three
"We'resohappytohave you here!" Tara says, greeting me at the bar.
Febri's is a nice bar. By that, I mean it reminds me a lot of Wheels. Sure, it's not a bikers place, but it's got that dark vibe that scares away the poshy, elitist assholes.
"I'm excited," I answer honestly, following her around as she leads me to the staff only areas. She gives me a quick tour, showing me where everything is and introducing me to some new faces.
The bar is dark red, but with the dim lighting, it's almost mistaken for shades of purple and black. The walls are lined with photos of patrons, and celebrity guests who have stopped in, some even signing glasses which are perched high up. Probably a smart choice.
Unlike Wheels, there's not many tables. It's standing room except for a few booths along the walls. The bar itself is lined with stools and in the center of the room, there's a few lone chest level tables for drinks.
"So, we are busy weekends, obviously. Also Wednesdays and Thursdays. The start of the week is pretty relaxed but we get lots of regulars."
I nod. "What are your regulars like?"
Tara hands me a can of Coke, before grabbing one for herself. Her short, pixie style hair is blonde like mine but she has the darkest eyes I've ever seen, leading me to believe she's not a natural blonde. It's captivating though, just like her personality.
"It's a mixed bag. Retired cops, crims… retired, of course… and just your average Joe coming to unwind after work."
"That's great," I say, taking a sip of my drink. "I get along well with people like that."
Tara laughs. "Me too, doll. Occasionally, you'll get the fresh out of school teens coming to explore with their mint IDs. But, they get scared off pretty easily. Which is why I liked you. You look like the type of chick who can handle her own."
"I like to think so too," I laugh.
A dark-skinned man walks into the bar and heads towards us.
"Tara, what's new, baby girl?" he asks, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. His short black hair is buzzed, and he only looks to be a few years older than me.
"Mike, this is Rylee. She's doing a trial with us tonight."
Mike throws his bag on the ground behind the bar before extending his knuckles to me. "Sweet. Welcome, if you need any help, give me a shout."
I give him a big smile, vibing off his energy. "Will do. And likewise."
He pauses for a second, my words sinking in, before bursting out with laughter. "Oh, I like you. I see now why Tara took an interest in you. You know, she barely hires anyone new. "They gotta be tough" she says." He quotes her words with fingers while giving her an accusing look.
Tara shrugs, unfazed. "I know what I like, and who I want. No point getting people who can't handle the heat. This bar is my baby."
"Makes sense to me," I grin, earning myself a wink from Mike.
Mike gives Tara a playful push in the shoulder. "She's a tough one, our old girl. But she'll treat you well. We're like family here."
"I could always use more family," I mutter without thinking.
The two of them eye me carefully, a knowing glint in Tara's expression. She nods. "You make your own family, doll. And fuck everyone who doesn't fit into your vibe."
"Couldn't agree more," I say, feeling at home already.
Tara motions me to the till. "Let me run you through how this old piece of shit works, then we'll get you up serving drinks. The regulars will start heading in soon."
"So, I said to her, if she doesn't like my perfume then she can go buy her own."
I blink at George, a semi-bald, retired police officer in his 50s... who is already past the point of tipsy.
"She sounds like a waste of time, if I'm being honest," I say, pouring George another scotch on the rocks.
