Page 41 of Bastard Bartender

“Please,” Richard replies.

When Nic points to me, I just nod my head, and he gets right on making our drinks.

He slides me mine first and then removes the cap of the bottle of Heineken and says, “So, did Evette here tell you about our conversation of how you can tell a lot about a guy just by the drink they order?”

Richard quizzically looks over at me. He knows he’s being trapped, and I turn my attention to Nic with wide eyes, telling him to back off my date.

“I’m sure you see all kinds of different drinkers in here day in and day out,” Richard says, trying to play it safe.

“Yep.” Nic leans back and crosses his arms. “But the one that gets me the most is the Heineken drinker.”

“How so?”

“Guys order it in hopes of coming off upscale. Maybe it’s the green bottle. But in reality, they would be just as happy, chugging an equally shitty beer that costs half the price.”

Richard stops mid-sip, taking his time and reading the situation clearer. He swallows his sip and says, “I’m sure not every drink fits every person, just like how not every bartender knows all of his shit. I’m sure you’ve made all kinds of judgments about people from behind your little safety net. The world is bigger than pouring people’s drinks at night, if you know what I mean.”

Nic grins from ear to ear, and I can tell he loves the back and forth he’s getting out of this guy. Me, on the other hand, I’m not sure if this pissing match is necessary.

“Oh … I think it does. And your words right now prove it even more.”

“Right,” Richard says slowly, nodding as he takes another sip.

“Bartender?” a woman calls from a few seats down.

“That would be you,” Richard says, pointing his bottle toward Nic and then to the woman waiting. “You go serve people while I get back to my date here.”

Nic purses his lips as he chuckles under his breath. “Don’t get too comfortable there. You’re only the R guy.”

I gasp as Nic strolls off like he didn’t just say that.

“How well do you know this guy?” Richard asks once Nic’s out of earshot.

“Just forget about him. He has no filter sometimes. So, finish your story about your trip back east.”

Richard is all too happy to jump back into his story, but I’m not taking in a word he’s saying. All I can think about is Nic, wondering why he’s acting this way. I want to say it pisses me off, but I’d be lying. It almost feels like he’s jealous of Richard, which makes my stomach twist in confusion.

I place a hand on the back of Richard’s chair and lean in slightly, so I can hear him over the music. He uses a Boston accent as he describes one of his friends. When he uses the word wicked, I giggle. As I look to the side and see Nic at the bar, stern mouth and steely eyes staring in my direction, my smile falls.

Leaning further into Richard, I whisper into his ear, “Tell me more about Boston. What were you traveling for?”

The question is simple, but my body language probably looks like I’m asking the man to go back home with me. As Richard talks about the information technology convention he was there for, I chance a glance at Nic again. The sharp edges of his clenched jaw are prominent as he fills a pint glass. I look back up at Richard and find I’m entirely too close to his mouth. Not that I haven’t thought of kissing him at the end of the night. I just don’t feel like this is the right moment.

Sitting back, I grab my glass and start sucking it down. Richard’s chuckle causes me to slow down.

“You’re thirsty, huh, girl?” He’s trying to be cute.

I shrug and place my glass down.

TLC’s “No Scrubs” plays on the loudspeaker. It makes me stop and take notice because ’90s R&B music is not something I’ve heard in here before. Richard doesn’t seem to find it as odd because he shimmies his shoulders as he chair-dances to the song that’s a scathing critique about men at the bottom of the dating pool.

“Man, love this song!” Richard states rather enthusiastically.

His animated reaction has me laughing. I end up doing my own little seat dance as he takes my hand and we move along to the song.

We’re reciting the lyrics and moving our hands in diva-like ways. Richard even picks up his beer bottle and uses it as a pretend microphone. I don’t miss Nic’s eye roll as he shakes the metal mixer a little more vigorously than I’ve seen before.

The song comes to an end, and I’m slightly breathless from acting so silly. Richard and I are sitting here, smiling at one another when, to our surprise, the song starts again from the beginning.