“For me,” he said in a low voice. “Call it a souvenir from the time I learned wine was sexy as hell.”
We laughed all the way to the checkout, making up random ways to turn basically everything in Costco into something sexy. A kayak. A giant vat of mayonnaise. Hydration packets.
When we finally made it to the front, Charlie said, “Dammit! The lemons.”
I waited in line while he sprinted toward produce to grab a couple of bags. I was slowly, very slowly, adding the many bottles of alcohol to the conveyor belt when he made it back, slightly panting.
He looked at the alcohol I’d divided for us with a plastic bar, and said, “Be honest. This is the real reason you need a raise.”
I laughed, surprised again at his sense of humor. “This is a bad habit you just introduced me to today. I’m definitely going to have to renegotiate my terms.”
He grinned, then paid for mine too. He treated me to a strawberry sundae that had me convinced I needed my very own Costco membership. He only bought one for me, but kept stealing bites on our walk back to the car.
I eventually gave up swapping the cart and the ice cream and just fed him straight from the spoon while he navigated our booze haul back to the borrowed Tahoe.
“Maybe I should add a Costco membership to my list of demands,” I said seriously.
“Nah, you can just come with me anytime you want.”
What was weird was that even though I was eating ice cream and my face felt frozen, the entire rest of my body was warm and gooey again.
Definitely indigestion.
eight
Thursday night,the bar was packed. Even though the temps were mild once the sun went down, the crushed bodies on the main floor were stifling. I’d dressed to impress in a strapless corset top with lightweight flare leggings, but all I wanted to do was rip off my clothes and dive into an ice-cold keg of beer.
This was too much.
My cheeks were flushed from the humidity generated by this many sweaty people, and my skin was sticky. But some guy by the bathrooms had just sloshed his drink over my shoulder, so it was either sweat or cocktail. I’d only had time to pat it dry with some thin bar napkins before one of my tables called for more drinks.
We could have easily used another two or three waitresses, but we didn’t have that robust of a staff. Miles and Charlie were behind the bar. We’d pulled Will out to take orders—which he hated—along with myself and Ally. Joey had popped out for a few minutes to assist at the bar, but people were ordering so much food she had to run back shortly after and help Case survive.
I weaved between tables, trying to reach the bar. My hands were full of empty glasses, and I desperately tried not to get spilled on again.
Charlie leaned over the drip rail and started taking the glasses from me before I could set them down. “Thanks,” I told him.
“Apparently, a local influencer did a write-up about us,” he called over the din. “That’s why we’re so busy tonight. She’s a big deal.” He looked around. “Now we’re a big deal.”
“We’ve always been a big deal.”
He laughed. “Well, now we’re bigger.”
I gave him a thumbs-up when my hands were empty and moved over to the pickup mat to grab finished drinks for my tables. I noticed Ally’s tickets were starting to back up and made a mental note to swing back around and help her out. I felt bad for her tonight. She was still relatively new, and this was insane.
I couldn’t remember another night as busy as this one.
“Do you need help with anything?” I asked Charlie as I gathered up my drinks. “Need me to grab Joey again?”
He shook his head. “I’m good.”
It was amazing how good Charlie was at bartending. He’d only tried it six months ago, and we’d all been surprised at how natural it was for him. I suspected he was good at things he wanted to be good at. When he didn’t like something, he gave minimal effort at best. So when he liked something, he went all in.
Bartending was that for him. An actual contribution to what the English siblings were doing without him.
“Oh my God!” I gasped when I turned around and saw two old friends at the door. They were looking for an open table in our seat-yourself arrangement but coming up empty. I hurried to meet them even though I had to drop the drinks off first.
April and Mark had been at the first bar I’d ever worked at. A dirty dive bar that didn’t mind I was only seventeen and not quite old enough to serve alcohol yet. The owner was always drunk but nice. And the clientele was shifty at best. April, Mark, and I had bonded over whether we would get paid that week or if Mickey, the owner, would forget again.
