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George nods, slapping a twenty on the bar. "I don't know why online dating is so hard."
I snuffle a grin, putting his order through the till and handing him his change.
"Me either, buddy. Tinder is a weird place. And for the love of God, be weary of Grindr. But… if I could make one suggestion?" I lean towards him casually.
He nods eagerly, eyes on me as he waits for me to impart my wisdom.
"Call it cologne, my friend. Women might get the wrong idea if you call it… perfume."
A realization passes over his face, the look turning to horror. I give his hand a friendly pat, laughing as I head to the next customer.
I look at the man in his 40s, wearing a business suit and perfectly styled hair. Not the type I was expecting to see in the bar, but a customer is a customer.
"What can I get for you?" I ask, stopping in front of him.
The man is looking at the shelves behind me, his dark blue eyes scouring the alcohol bottles slowly.
"I need a shot of something. Expensive, preferably. If it's going to burn, it better be smooth too."
There's no hostility in his voice, rather the exhausted tone of someone who has clearly had a shit day.
I look behind at the shelves, trying to see anything familiar pop out.
"What about Jose Cuervo? Looks like there's a bottle of the250th AniversarioTequila. I can check the price for you?"
The man nods, dumping his briefcase on the seat next to him. "Please."
I head out to the back office, popping my head in to see Tara on the computer.
"Hiya, boss. How much for a shot of the Jose Cuervo? The 250th anniversary one. Bottle looks unopened."
Tara continues typing on the computer without stopping. "$300 a shot. You can open it. Just for the love of fucking God, don't accidentally drop the bottle after like that Michelle broad did a few months ago."
I cringe. "Ouch. Was it a new bottle?"
Tara nods. "And she didn't even pour the shot, so the whole thing was wasted."
"Fuck. I see why you have standards."
Her lips tug into a smirk as she continues staring at the screen. I make my way back to the bar to the guy who looks at me expectantly.
"$300 a shot, my friend."
I'm not surprised that he doesn't hesitate. All I get is a short, curt nod as he reaches into his back pocket to extract his wallet.
I use a stepladder to carefully grab the bottle and a shot glass. I love opening new bottles, there's something special about that first whiff of expensive booze.
The man pulls out a stack of notes and throws them on the counter. "Two shots, thanks."
I collect the money, counting the six one-hundred dollar bills. "No problem." I decide to put it in the till straight away as I'm weary about leaving large sums of money out. Knowing my luck, someone will spill something on it, or someone will make a grab for a quick pay day.
Grabbing a second shot glass, I pour the two shots and carefully close the lid on the bottle. I go to push the two shot glasses towards him, but he stops my right hand.
"That's for you," he says, making me pause and raise an eyebrow.
"For me? A $300 shot?"
The man looks at me, almost in disbelief thatI'min disbelief.
