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He nods. “I am.”
The doors open with a roar. A group of at least ten young men in steel-toed boots, several wearing orange safety vests, burst in like a thunderstorm.
“Where’s your barback?” Gabe asks.
I shrug. “He was supposed to be here an hour ago. It’s not unusual.”
“You’re about to get behind.”
Three of the cocktail waitresses walk up at once, all shouting orders.
The group of men heads toward the bar.
Here we go.
Gabe jumps from his stool. “Exactly how mad will your boss be if I help you?”
“I guess we can find out.” I grin at him. It might be important to have a job reference for my next gig, but honestly, I can’t count on a good one even if Badger’s happy with me on the day he gets the call. So, what the hell.
Gabe circles the bar, and one raised eyebrow at the ladies arriving with their trays sends them giggling.
“Hold your flirting,” I tell them. “He’s spoken for.”
“Oh, shucks,” Arlene says. “Can we at least look at him?”
“Looks are free,” Gabe says. “So, tell me what I need to make.”
I elbow him. “I’ll handle the ladies. You take on the dudes.”
He nods. “An even better plan.” He scoots down the bar.
And it works. There might not be a tropical breeze. No sand or ocean view. But the two of us are magic together behind the bar. Gabe starts flipping the bottles, making everyone laugh when he tosses one to me and I shriek, certain I will drop it.
“Don’t be a clown in my bar!” I shout at him.
This gets everyone laughing.
We realize that his silliness and my seriousness play against type, and we give everyone a good time.
Soon our antics have drawn a good chunk of the people to the bar, and the tip jars are stuffed.
Deborah, a waitress who’s worked here for twenty years and is the unofficial mom to us all, says, “I’ve seen this movie. Which one of you is Tom Cruise?”
“She’s the good-looking one,” Gabe says.
“And he’s the idiot!” I shout back.
There’s another roar of laughter. We upsell quite a few customers, an additional layer of protection in case Badger gets wind of Gabe working back here. He’s nowhere to be seen, though, and unless the cocktail waitresses blab, he won’t even know.
I can’t worry about it. I decide to adopt the same attitude I had on the island. Live for right now. Have a good time. Do a good job. Enjoy every minute.
By midnight, the crowd has thinned, and Gabe is safely back on his stool. Most of the people who were entertained by our antics have gone home.
Even Old Slim has called it a night. Badger finally shows up to check out the register and review the receipts. He raises his eyebrows at the stack of printouts pierced onto the metal pin.
“We get a bunch of chicks in here or something? Why are there all these cocktails on here?”
I shrug. “Yeah. There were a lot of women today. You shoulda been here. Found your next ex-wife.”
