"If you say so," she sing-songs as I make my way back to my area. I should be thrilled she actually talked to me. Not that she doesn’t normally, but I’m the one who has to start the conversation and she’s pretty quick to end it. You’d think I’d get the hint and leave it be. My mom always says I’m stubborn, and this is proof.
I make quick work of the vodka tonic and slide it over the bar with a napkin. "Here you go. Is there anything else I can get you?"
She hands me her card and grins. "Why don’t you start a tab for me? I’ll be back to see you." She winks before turning to disappear into the crowd. I don’t miss her glance back, or the way she shifts her dress an inch or two higher.
Please do not let her come back to my side of the bar. Joan may be right. I mean, there's nothing wrong with this woman. She's gorgeous, but I don't necessarily want to go home with her.
There's only one person I want anything to do with, and she's shooting daggers at me. Great. Now what did I do?
I make my way toward her, but Lisa intercepts me. "That's probably not a good idea."
"Why? I didn't do anything wrong, and it's not like we're dating or anything."
Lisa only shakes her head in response. "Not everything is about you, Eric. Sometimes family shit comes up and messes with a person's mood."
She's preaching to the choir. My brother's camp fees are due next week, and I'll be sending any tips I make to my mom to cover it.
"Just give her some space," she pours a drink, "nobody likes to be pressured into a date."
"Hmph, tell that to basically all of our friends who have gotten into relationships lately." I don't bother telling her she's included in that. Besides, I don't like to think of it as pressuring. I'm taking my shot. It's just taking more shots than I anticipated.
She doesn't argue with me because she knows it's true. Every single person who is in a relationship met, or got together, because of this place. Why is it so bad, for me to do the same?
"I'm not saying back off completely on your quest," she places her hands on my shoulders, "I'm only saying that you should dampen your excitement. It's kind of a lot."
The grin that spreads across my face likely looks maniacal, I'm sure. If she meant that as a slam, she failed. My mom always said I'm extra when it comes to challenges.
"I just added gasoline to the fire, didn't I?" She crosses her arms and sizes me up.
"That is something you'll have to wait and see." I wave at her and go down to the far end of the bar. She can manage the middle while I figure out my next move.
The last patrons are walking out the door, and we canfinallystart our clean up routine. It's been a long night. Not only did that woman keep coming to me for drinks, she slipped her phone number at the bottom of the receipt. Nice try, lady, but my eyes are set on another.
I wipe down the counter in my section and can't help but replay all the times that troublemaker came to the bar to hit on Joan. Is it fair to call him that? Maybe not, but I've seen him do the same thing all week to every one of our bartenders. With any luck, one of them will mention it to her, so it doesn't seem like I'm jealous.
Which I'm totally not. Well, not completely. I watch Lisa talk to her as I continue cleaning the counter, and I wish I could hear what they are talking about. Lisa has definitely perfected the art of talking quietly. Something I've never been able to do. Being subtle isn't one of my strengths.
My coworkers are trying to get the tables and floor clean in the main areas, and I need to help them. That would require me to pass by Lisa and Joan. Now's my chance to hear what they're saying. I toss the rag in the bucket to be washed and take slow, steady steps toward them. Joan's eyes meet mine, and she immediately stops talking until I'm on the other side of the bar and heading toward the tables.
All that tells me is they were talking about me. Or, at least, something that pertains to me. Hopefully Lisa wasn't warning her away. Especially after I had her vouch for me when Joan first started working here.
"You get that side and I get this one?" Delilah nods toward the other side of the room. "I'm ready to get out of here and head home."
"Oh yeah? I'm guessing Bryce is waiting for you?" I'm glad they have each other. I don't think she would have given him the time of day if I hadn't nudged them together any chance I could.
"If he knows what's best for him, he'll be asleep and I can crash as soon as I get home."
"My fingers are crossed for you." I laugh as I grab one of the rags she has next to her, "or else you'll be up for whatever movie marathon he has planned for you."
"Don't even speak that into existence."
I hold my hands up in surrender as I back away. "I take it all back. He'll be asleep and you can go to bed."
"That's better." She grins and wipes down the table in front of her. I watch how she does the cleanup for a second. She doesn't put the chairs up immediately after she wipes the table. Instead, she wipes down several tables and then goes back to do the chairs. Not the way I would do it, but to each their own.
The sooner we get this done the sooner we can get out of here. I have to be at my mom's early in the morning, and I'd like to get as much sleep as I possibly can. Helping her get my brother back and forth to things is exhausting, but at least it's benefiting her. She doesn't have to take time off work, or worry about getting an additional job as long as I'm around.
"Hey," Joan's voice jolts me out of my thoughts and I jump up from wiping the table, inches from our heads colliding, "didn't mean to scare you."
