Vee
Thebasspoundsthroughthe building, the vibrations working their way up from the floor through my legs. The glass bottles on the shelves behind me rattle, and I wonder if the music was always this loud and I was just oblivious to it.
The inside of the bar glows with neon lights of various colors, sweat and perfume fill the air while men and some women drink, ogling the women on the stage. And I feel at home. I’ve missed the bar, more than I’d ever admit to anyone.
Christmas Eve and the place is packed. Fuckers should be at home with their families, setting out cookies and milk for Santa and filling stockings with goodies. Instead, they’re here, stuffing dollar bills in strippers’ g-strings. It doesn’t make sense.
I shake it off as I wipe down the counter for the third time in five minutes. My eyes drift over to the new bartender, Jennalyn. She’s worthless. In the time I’ve been here tonight, she hasn’t cleaned a thing, and the only men she helps are the ones who are, shall we say, more physically appealing.
Shaking my head, I move down to one of the patrons seated at the end of the bar, right on the curve so he can see the whole bar.He’s been here for about an hour and is still nursing the same beer I gave him when he sat down. He’s tall, broad shoulders that are barely hidden beneath a worn leather jacket. His dark shoulder length hair shows the beginning of changing as silver strands are scattered throughout. A pale raised scar cuts across his cheekbone. His eyes follow me and a small shiver runs up my spine, but I shake it off.
The only words we’ve spoken to each other the whole night are when I asked him what he wanted to drink. Now that I think about it, I haven’t noticed him speaking to anyone. Not even the guy who sat down beside him.
I make way down to his end of the counter, continuing to wipe down the bar top. When I get closer to him, he clears his throat and my eyes shift to him.
“Can I get another one?” he asks. “And a shot of Jack.”
I nod. “Sure thing. Same beer?”
“Yeah.” A half-smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “What’s your name?”
I reach in the cooler, pulling out a bottle of Budweiser and pop the top off, setting it down on the counter in front of him. “Vee,” I tell him as I pour him another shot of whiskey since his is gone, then slide it across the bar top to him.
“Crowd’s wild for Christmas Eve,” he says, and I guess we’re making small talk now. “Thought this place would be empty.”
“Have to say I thought the same. But I guess people have different ideas of how to celebrate. Where some want to spend time with family, others want to see naked women on a pole,” I smile, taking my rag and cleaning up the bar where I spilled a little bit of liquor.
He cocks his head to the side, studying me for a minute. “Then what are you doing here?”
I hesitate for a second, wondering why this man is asking me, then shrug it off. All he’s doing is making conversation. “Working.”
“It’s Christmas Eve.” He leans back slightly on the stool, and I have to hold my breath, prepared for him to fall backward off it. But he doesn’t. “You should be home with your family. Don't you have kids? Someone waiting for you?” He lifts the shot of Jack and downs it in one swallow, then slides it back over to me. “Another.”
“No kids. No family.” My voice goes soft, my heart clenching thinking about what I’m missing out on. I did have three men, if things had gone well, we could’ve been sharing our first holiday together.
“None?” His brows knit together.
“Just a brother.” I glance down the bar, checking if anyone needs me. “I’m working so other people can be with theirs.”
The man nods slowly. “That’s…noble. Or lonely.”
“Sometimes both,” I say not even thinking, sliding his newly replenished shot back over to him.
He taps his fingers against the glass of his beer bottle. “What about a boyfriend? Surely a looker like you has to have one.”
The question lands harder than I expect. It shouldn’t hurt this bad to be asked if I have one. But it does. My eyes drift, without meaning to, toward the door. But now Hank is standing there and his eyes are looking my way. When he sees me watching him, he gazes away and heads toward the stairs leading up to Bash’s office.
A subtle dismissal if I’ve ever seen one.
I look back at the man. “No.” Then, softer I add, “Not anymore.”
“His loss. A girl like you won’t be single long,” the man adds before taking a swallow of beer. “I’m Abraham by the way.”
I offer him a smile. “Nice to meet you. Time to get back to work,” I tell him before moving back down the bar. My eyes drift back up, seeking Hank. He’s at the foot of the stairs talking to Carlos.
The night continues on, and with each passing minute, the bitch Jennalyn pisses me off more. If she’s going to be working with me every night, then I’m going to have to find another job. Being here with Hank is bad, but having to deal with her is beyond any torture that his proximity is giving me.
I watch as Jennalyn grabs two bottles of beer from the cooler and steps from behind the counter, totally ignoring the two older men trying to get her attention. My eyes follow her as she weaves through the crowd heading toward Hank. He’s still standing at the bottom of the stairs with Carlos. A small part of me wants to think she’s making her way over to flirt with Carlos. But when she places her hand on Hank's chest, I see red. His eyes shift over to me, and instead of pushing her away, he steps into her. A sharp pain rips through my heart and I feel the last pieces of it breaking apart. He doesn’t care about me. He’s moved on from me as if it were nothing. I torture myself even more by stepping to the side so I can get a better look and that’s when I see his hand resting on her hip.
