Chapter four
Sully
Pratt came to me.
The guy at the far end of the rail needed another drink and hadn't figured it out yet. I poured while he was reading something on his phone, set it where his hand would find it, and moved on.
My job wasn't the pouring or the glass. It was the knowing.
Carver's on a Thursday ran hot. The after-work crowd came in still wearing their lanyards. A table in the back had been celebrating something for going on forty minutes, the volume climbing steadily.
Nora appeared at the bar's service end, already reaching for a bottle. "Table nine wants to reopen the tab."
"After you ran the card?"
"After I ran the card."
"Tell them—"
"I told them you'd be nicer about it."
"Smart."
She took the bottle and was gone.
I was building something for a couple in the middle. "What is this?" the woman asked.
"Something for staying," I said.
Her partner opened his mouth. I moved before he could ask me to justify it.
The ticket machine spat out an order. I read it and had it done before Tomasz got back from the walk-in with garnishes. He looked at the full glass and looked at me.
"I had a window," I said.
He picked it up and carried it to the floor without editorializing.
The corner stool opened up. The occupant changed two or three times a night, filled by patrons who wanted to watch the room without the room watching back.
A few minutes later the door opened, and I knew without looking up who it was.
I finished a pour, capped a bottle, and ran a card. When I came down the bar, he'd already settled, coat folded and both hands flat on the surface.
"Didn't know you came solo," I said.
"Goalies don't run in packs."
I pulled a glass, two fingers of Elijah Craig, and set it in front of him.
"Bourbon."
He looked at the glass and at me. "I'll trust the bartender."
I nodded once and moved back up the bar. I grabbed a shaker and put myself back in the room. Almost.
The guy three seats down said something I didn’t catch the first time. I asked him to repeat it, a rare request from me.
A ticket came through for a smoked Old Fashioned, no garnish. I built it on muscle memory, already moving to the next when the guy two seats down leaned in.
