“Thalia,” Jace turns his attention to me. “When are you going to get yourself a man?” He stops me mid-adjusting my black mesh shirt.
“If I had a man, I would never have enough time with you here or on the days I have off.” He smiles. He can see through my bullshit.
“What you need to do is pull that shirt of yours down and pull those tiddies out at least and get some tips. Maybe even get you someone for the night.” I scoff at the thought.
“I’m not interested in the guys that come in here.”
“Who says you need to be interested? You need more than that vibrator in your nightstand and those headphones of yours.”
“Jace!” My mouth opens in shock. But honestly, a part of me agrees with him. It would be nice to have more than my hands and an inanimate object on some lonely nights.
“Girl, everyone knows what you do when you get home. There’s only so much true crime you can listen to, even if their voices aresexy as hell.” Little does he know, I could listen to people talk about gruesome acts of violence all day if it came from both of them.
Jace and I turn on our bartender charm as the night grows later and the bar gets louder. Janice, being the good little owner she is, does her share too. The sounds of chatter and glasses clinking fill the dining area. I turn every now and then to face Jace to check on the line of people in front of him. Just as I suspect, he has everyone's glasses lined up. His rehearsed “honey” and customer service smile make me naturally grin. Even if not genuine, his aura is addictive.
After noticing the line of people in front of me die down, I take one of the rags from under the counter and clean the closest dirty glass to keep busy.My Friday night will move faster as long as I keep working.
The once busy night is coming to a standstill, and the countdown to closing has me staring down at my phone. Just a half hour more and it’s time to head home and do what I love to do best: get in my pajamas, lie in my bed and finish up the newest episode from my favorite podcast.
Most of the people who were once laughing, taking sips from their glasses and slinging back shots have left. Probably to go to their penthouses or the other bars on the street. Now that everyone is gone, the sound of raindrops hitting the windows and the glass door echoes in the mostly empty room.
“No sign of the guy with the neck tattoos,” I point out to Jace. Maybe he won't be able to hear the excitement in my voice.A night without his constant one-liners and creepy looks would be a bit of relief.Unfortunately, however, Jace and I are fooled and he walks in, the front door slowly closing behind him.Fuck. Jaceturns his head and laughs, not even trying to hide the fact he thinks my torment is hilarious. He’s never shy about what he thinks, even if it is laughing at my misery. Of course, why did I have to be so lucky?Why the fuck me?
“Hey stranger, didn’t think you’d make it in tonight.” My fake smile and rehearsed bartender character are in full swing. My face burns from the strain it gives me.Why did you have to come in this close to closing time?! Hell, why did you have to come in at all?
“I couldn’t end my Friday night without seeing you.” I cringe at his rehearsed wink.Yeah. Get fucked, creep. He pulls his straight, greasy hair away from his face and puts it in his usual ponytail with a black rubber band.Come on, guy, you’re going to get your disgusting hair all over the bar after I just wiped it down. Typical.
“Well, lucky me.”Keep it together, Thalia. One drink, his usual lame ass pickup line, and he’s gone. That’s his usual routine.“What can I get you?”
“Your number, maybe?”Lame ass pickup line: check.The line didn’t work the first time.
“Still not on the menu,” I add. Giggling at the start of the sentence.Maybe that would hide my disgust for this guy.
“Well shit, just an Old Fashion.”That should be easy enough. It’s a favorite around here. It seems like everyone orders it.I grab the whiskey glass, add a couple of ice cubes, and start pouring in the brown liquor. His eyes move from the small tattoos on my hands to my tits under my black mesh shirt as I make the cocktail.Fucking creep.I slide him the sweating glass.A sweating glass to match his clammy hands. I add a little wink at the end.He may be a pig, but like I said before, a girl needs hertips.
“Closing time yet?” Jace asks as I walk over to his end of the bar. There is a bit of a whine to his voice as he lays his head against my shoulder. His pink hair slowly disappears into a fade just along the back of his neck.
“Not until that fucker leaves.” He laughs as I place my hands on my hips.
“Just give in to the man, damn. Maybe he’ll leave you alone once he slides in between those legs of yours.”
“Ew. No, thanks. He’s not my type.”
“What? You into girls now?” Jace laughs jokingly.
“No, but his desperation just hangs off of him. Also, his long, unwashed hair makes me cringe.”
“Girl, it’s more than what you’ve been getting. When he whispers in your ear, just think of those men you listen to every night.” I gag at the thought. Kind of like those videos you see of cats gagging at the smell of broccoli. Just picture that.
“Jace, I can’t. I’m not settling. I’m better than that.”
“I know, but who said anything about settling? I’m not telling you to marry the guy. I’m just telling you to get some of that…” He pauses his thought, only to finish it off with a few grinding motions against the bar. Making me let out a laugh that may or may not have echoed in the whole damn building, causing “neck tattoo guy” to look over in our direction.
“Sorry, Thalia’s only interested in the men in her headphones,” Jace yells over the music coming from the speakers.Oh, god.I hide my head in my hands with embarrassment. Luckily, he smiles and waves it off and proceeds to go back to whatever he was doing on his phone.
The night finally comes to an end as soon as he drinks the rest of the liquid in his glass. Tonight, it seemed like he nursed his routinely Old Fashioned for nearly thirty minutes. He slips me his damp twenty-dollar bill and doesn't forget the wink as he clumsily climbs out of his chair. “See you next week, beautiful.” His words are slurred to match his stride and he moves backwards towards the door.
“Can't wait.” His bill feels as if it fell in a large puddle on the sidewalk. Knowing him it probably did, or it was money found on his way over here.Found being the inoperative word. Most likely, stole is the proper term.
