Just the light waft of alcohol singes Julien’s nostrils and makes him grimace. “None for me.” He waves a hand dismissively and doesn’t look up. Eye contact is often too intense.
“It’s just a little taste,” says Greg, voice more chipper than before. “It’s sweet. Try it, you’ll like it.”
“I won’t,” Julien says reflexively. He doesn’t mean for it to come out as harsh as it does.
“I didn’t poison it or anything.”
When Julien musters the courage to look up, he swears he catches hurt lightning-bolting across Greg’s handsome, chiseled features. But the moment he swears it, it’s replaced by a right-favoring smile so electric he has to look away again. “Never said you did.”
“Then give it a chance. I promise it’s delicious.” Greg saysdeliciouslike he’s tasting the word itself, which sets Julien’s hormones into a frenzy.
Unnerved by the number of eyes on him and generally uncomfortable with Greg’s insistence, Julien stands abruptly. “No, really. None for me,” he grumbles, not watching where he’s walking. His erratic elbow hits the lip of Greg’s tray, effectively flipping it up. Like in that first TikTok he watched, the cocktails go sliding down Greg’s torso. Except this time, the whole front of Greg’s shirt is soaked and stained, making his worked-out abs even more pronounced beneath the clinging, sopping fabric.
Perfect. Just perfect.
GREG
Earlier that day, Greg spends an hour trying to decipher what to wear for his first night as the bartender at Martin’s Place.
It’s important that he dress to impress. While he doesn’t love it, he knows his appearance helps. How else would he have been responsible for hundreds of sales for a cocktail shaker company with faulty lids? In fairness, he didn’t know the lids were faulty until after he’d signed the contract to promote their product on his socials through videos and sharing a promo code.
Fellow influencer Stryker Storm, his ex, had pushed him to do it. Said he could use the money. And since Greg couldn’t argue with that logic, he shot the TikToks and Reels required, even though he had to do a million takes to get a good one where the cocktail didn’t go flying all over the kitchen. He seriously needed a cleanup crew that day.
Great. Now he’s nervous for his first day, unsure of what to wear,andnauseous with guilt over the past he wishes he could overwrite. He won’t be that clout-hungry egotist any longer. He canshow offwithout being ashow-off.
To prove it, he settles on an unassuming heather-gray T-shirt that’s on the baggier side, tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans. He must’ve lost a pound or two since the move—he meant to start bulking with his trainer before he left New York—because the waist on these is a little loose. In his closet, he finds the one belt he packed, and it’s Gucci. The gaudy buckle makes him look a bit like a tool, but he can’t serve drinks with his pants falling halfway to his ankles, so this will have to do.
The drive to work is a relatively quick one, but finding parking turns out to be harder than anticipated. He still arrives at the restaurant early-early to help Martin set up for his grand introduction. He wipes his palms, which are slick with nerves, on his jeans before entering.
“Glad you’re joining the Martin’s family, Greg,” Augustine says, sweeping her red hair back over her shoulder and offering him a handshake. “We’re excited to introduce you to our ragtag bunch.”
Augustine and Martin did his virtual interview, so he already knows they seem to be kind, funny people. The rest of the pack he can’t vouch for, but he’s optimistic he’ll meet some friends here.
The weekend, as predicted, was lonely. Back in Brooklyn, he was used to being around people, noise, nightlife. Without Rufus in the house, Greg mostly filmed content that underperformed, reheated food that didn’t taste quite right, and scrolled social media until his FOMO and anxiety overwhelmed him.
That’s why today he’s resolved himself to making one friend. One. What was it his mom said when he called her that first Friday after they dropped him off at the academy?
Chin up, Greg. Everything will be better once you make one good friend.
To this day, he still thinks what she said was a cop-out so she didn’t feel bad about abandoning her only child at a military boarding school he had no interest being at. But, still—for the most part, she was right. Nothing was ever good at the academy, but things did eventually get better once he learned how to project positivity.
If he can make one local buddy by the end of the night, then he’s going to be okay here. Someone he can go to the farmers market with, or the very least text. Someone who can recommend the best Chinese food places and maybe go with him to the local movie theater without feeling like a third wheel.
He uncorks his stock of optimism like it’s a bottle of Patrón.
Martin comes out from the back in a red shirt and black pants sporting a welcoming smile. “Greg, my boy, nice to see you.” Martin’s handshake is so strong and forceful it knocks Greg off his balance, and he lifts six times a week so that says something. “Thanks for being here early. I wanted to give the staff a little introduction to you before beginning your training so people weren’t starstruck.”
Greg straightens up at the embedded compliment. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“You never know, some of our younger staff members speak exclusively in trending TikTok sounds,” says Augustine, sipping a flavored seltzer from a plastic bottle.
Martin and Augustine show Greg around the place. The tour he got on FaceTime was nice, but in person the restaurant has a certain sophistication he didn’t pick up on through his phone screen. Mostly tables. A few booths. Hardwood floors. Black-and-white photographs of the old Bethlehem steel factory on the walls. Exposed beams on the ceiling. The gender-neutral restrooms are an affirming and promising touch.
As they bring him behind the bar, he takes in the view. This will be his stage for a while. His home base. He likes it instantly.
A little later, channeling all his energy, he puts on a big smile for the whole staff once they’ve filed in, and Martin introduces him up on the small stage.
“Hey, everybody. I’m Greg. Some of you may know me by my TikTok handle, but here it’s just Greg,” he says. There are a few polite smiles and nods from the group. “Martin thought it would be a fun idea for me to do a little cocktail demonstration for you all.” He motions to the table in front of him.
