Hesitantly, I ask, “What’syourname?”
“Luke.” Without missing a beat, he asks, “How old are you?”
Luke fits him. “Twenty-one.”
“Good. Where have you bartended?”
Shit. I knew this was coming. “Um, nowhere?” I make it sound like a question, then add, “But I love to drink.”
It must have been the right thing to say, because he laughs again. His entire body rumbles when he does it. “Wow, that’s a great answer. I can’t believe I’ve never heard it before.”
“You haven’t?” I smile with pride.
“Have you done anything in the hospitality industry? Waitressing? Food service? Anything?”
“I worked at the ice cream shop in my hometown one summer.” I gained nine pounds and vowed never to work near ice cream again.
“That’s something, I guess.”
“I was a receptionist at a dental office in high school, and I’ve worked at the state fair selling tickets at the Midway for the last two years.” Then I remember, “Oh, and I detasseled corn once, for one day.”
He chuckles again. It’s rich and deep. “For one day?”
“Um, well, I’m not really very outdoorsy.”
“You don’t say?” He says it sarcastically again, but this time it isn’t funny.
My smile vanishes and I nod.Stop it, Quinn.He was just teasing. Don’t take it personally. Feeling the need to clarify or maybe defend myself, I explain, “There was only one day left of work.” That’s part of the reason. The other is I got lost in the field. The foreman had to hunt for me, and I missed lunch, which sucked because detasseling is hard work and I was super hungry. But I’m not going to tell him that part.
“So, you have customer service experience but that’s it.”
It wasn’t a question.
“I’m smart. I learn quickly.”
Luke rolls his eyes. Crossing his arms over his broad chest, he stares down at me. I’m not sure if I should be speaking—you know, doing more to sell myself so I can get this job—or if I should just get up and walk out. I’m seconds away from sliding the rest of the way off the stool when he says, “Fine. I’ll give you a shot. Two weeks. If you can’t handle it, you’re done.” He turns away from me and starts to load bottles of beer into a tall fridge. I’m about to leave when he turns back with a pad of paper and a pen. “Here. Write down your shit, including your class schedule.”
“Okay.”
I begin to write my name, address, and phone number when he asks, “Can you come in tomorrow to train?”
It’s Sunday. I’ve got nothing planned other than walking. “Sure. What time?”
“Noon.”
“I’ll be here.”
I quickly write out my class schedule and am about to ask him if he needs anything else when he reaches for the paper. “This is fine for now. You can fill out the other shit tomorrow.” He tosses the pad of paper down onto the counter next to the register and then continues to load the refrigerator. I sit for a minute or two, wondering if I should leave, when he answers for me. “We’re done. You can go.”
Wow, I’m pretty sure Luke is an asshole. But he’s an asshole who just gave me a job, so there’s that. Sliding off the seat, I smile. “Thanks. See you tomorrow, Luke.”
He mumbles something, but I ignore him. It’s best to get out while the getting is good. He may not like me now, but I’ll change his mind because, damn it, I’m awesome.
Ha! Where did that self-assuredness come from?
I smile all the way down the sidewalk and around the corner to my scooter. Unlocking the trunk, I grab my helmet and slide it on my head. As I throw my leg over the seat, I nod to myself, because you know what? I just got a job. Iamawesome.
When I get home, the girls and I celebrate my new job with popcorn and a movie in the living room. I also get an earful from Robbi about Luke Green, the owner and resident asshole of Cy’s Roost. I listen as Robbi tells tales of Luke’s many quirks and idiosyncrasies. They’re too numerous to list, but apparently Luke likes things a certain way behind the bar, and if you can’t do as he says, you’re out. It doesn’t bother me that he has his own way of doing things, but I am glad I now have a heads-up about him. I have to do a good job and make it past that two-week mark.
