I shake my head and ignore her comment.
“Can I get another one please?” She points to her margarita glass, purses her lips around the straw and sips, making a loud slurping sound. “See? It’s empty!” The noise is unattractive, but her subsequent giggle isn’t.
I groan. “I think you’ve had enough.”
She lifts one delicate shoulder. “I’ll ask Cal. He liked me.” She looks beyond me. “Oh, Cal! Woo-hoo!” She waves a hand in the air to get the other man’s attention.
I turn and shake my head at the bartender.
“Sorry,” Cal says loudly.
She sighs. “You’re mean.”
“And you’re drunk.” I pick up her glass, turn and put it in the rack before facing her again.
She sits with both elbows on the bar, a forlorn look on her face.
I sigh. “Okay, what’s the problem?” I ask, knowing if I’m behind the bar, I have no choice but to play psychiatrist without a diploma.
First, I pour her a soda from the tap, then I walk over and place it in front of her with a new straw, prepared to listen.
“My parents are pressuring me to get together with a guy oftheirchoosing.” She makes a disgusted face, letting me know what she thinks of the man.
I shake my head. Typical rich parents with 18th-century expectations. Marry off their beautiful daughter to someone equally wealthy and acceptable in their eyes. I saw it so often during my years on Wall Street, watched it up close at dinner parties I was invited to. Though I was new to their world, I also came up quickly, made a name for myself and was considered a prime catch.
I almost feel sorry for the princess, but I have no doubt with therightman, she’d be all in to do what her parents ask of her. All the women in her social circle do. And though I wanted the money, having grown up solidly lower middle class, it wasn’t my scene. Something I learned pretty quickly.
“They had a party tonight with the typical Hamptons crowd,” she says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “I escaped to the library to get away from everyone and he found me.” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand, and I stiffen.
“Did he touch you?”
She nods. “He planted a big slobbery kiss on me. But I kicked him in the balls and ran out.”
I’m unable to stifle a laugh at her actions, but the thought of any man putting a hand on her soft skin has my temper rising. Though she’s definitely too young for me, I can’t deny the initial attraction. One I’ll ignore.
She lets out a loud sigh. “Nowcan I have another drink?”
I shake my head. “Sorry. You’re officially cut off for the night.”
“Boss, you’re needed in the kitchen,” one of the bar backs calls out.
I glance at the young woman who is checking her phone. “I’ll be right back.”
I walk to the kitchen and through the swinging door where I find myself in the middle of an argument between a busboy and waitress who’ve been dating. Doing my best not to lose my temper, I remind them that if they can’t get along, one of them will have to go. The duo, I’m not certain if they are still a couple, rush back to work.
Another fifteen to twenty minutes pass, during which I put out a few more fires, reminding me of why I prefer to have things run without me in the kitchen. Problems are typically solved by the staff if they don’t have the manager to run interference.
By the time I make my way back to the bar, the crowd has grown, the crowd is hopping and Cal has been joined by Eddie, the newest summer hire. While Cal is professionally moving between the patrons, removing full drinks and serving fresh ones, Eddie lingers at the far end of the bar.
It’s obvious why. The pretty princess has an empty glass in front of her, and I watch as the bartender swaps it for a fresh margarita. Then, instead of moving to the next person waiting, he leans closer and begins to chat, while she flutters her lashes and stirs the new drink she shouldn’t have been served.
I stride over and swoop up the glass before she can put those slick, freshly glossed lips around the straw.
“Eddie, get back to work!” I bark, tilting my head toward a point away from the customers. “We’ll talk soon.”
“Yeah, boss.” The man slinks away, and I turn to join him for a reprimand.
“Oh, come on, party pooper. Eddie had no issue serving me,”myprincess complains.
