Page 10 of Desperate Haste
Lily (Thursday, the bar)
I hope you do Have a nice night at work.
Tossing my phone down on the coffee table to go and get ready, I know two things to be true. One, I’m going to have to work a little harder than I normally do to wipe a certain someone from my brain. And two, that I’ll more than likely not be texting Lily at the end of the night.
* * *
I’ma few hours into my shift, managing the bar and making sure to check in with the team who I’m sharing the Saturday night shift with. Alice is here as we’re busy enough on Saturdays to need two bartenders and we work in tandem serving beers and slinging drinks. We take turns running orders to tables and rarely have to communicate who is doing what because we’re so in sync. It’s a busy night and there are bodies crowding every inch of the bar ordering or waiting on their cocktails to be made.
“Malcolm, we need more vodka if we’re going to make it through the night,” Alice calls to me from further down the bar. My eyes scan the scene in front of me and decide that if I’m going to run to get more, it has to be now.
“I’m on it.” Lifting the barrier and stepping out from behind the bar, I head for the storage closet in the kitchen, passing the back of house staff who are hard at work cooking and prepping food orders.
“Everyone okay back here? You all need anything?” They shake their heads and a few of the guys wave me off not lifting their heads from their prep stations. A lot of people don’t know how important the kitchen and back of house staff is to a restaurant but I do, so I always try to make sure they’re taken care of.
Reaching the liquor closet, I take the set of keys off the belt loop of my faded, worn out jeans to unlock the door. The lock is a small precaution we take in order to keep our friends working to get sober from falling off the straight and narrow. Only three people have the keys to this closet: Marshall, me, and our back of house manager Benny. I unlock the door, grab what I need, and lock it again before heading back to my place behind the bar. As I approach, I spy the hourglass figure of a woman who wasn’t there before sitting at a stool by herself. Moving behind the bar once more, the bottles of vodka clang together as I set them down on the counter. My eyes connect with Alice and I jut my chin in their direction so she sees them there before moving to stand in front of the newcomer.
“Well look who we have here,” I say, using a damp rag to wipe down the counter in front of her. Her eyes lift and she looks at me with a semi-stunned expression. The chocolate color of her eyes warms as the lights behind the bar illuminate them.
“Ahh, if it isn’t my post-wedding date.” Her lips curl up into a lustful smile and my eyes flit down to them without permission, reminding me of what they felt like against my own.
“Post-wedding date? I would say it was more than just that,” I challenge. “I hardly consider having a one-night-stand a ‘date.’”
“Darling, that’s all my dates ever are.” She lifts a brow at me as Alice leans in front of me, setting a drink down in front of her.
“Maybe you should find a man who will treat you to an actual date then,” I offer, trying to play it cool. Someone approaches the bar and orders a drink which I punch into our computer system. Quickly swiping their card, I open a tab for them for the evening and turn back to her.
“I much prefer my current arrangement with men.” Lifting the straw in her glass to her red painted lips, her eyes remain locked on mine as she wraps them around it and takes a sip. If I’m not mistaken, she is trying to egg me on. And it’s working.
I study her for a beat before leaning over the bar, holding myself up on my elbows. My face is level with hers and I don’t miss how her eyes flash towards my arms that stretch the short sleeve shirt I’m wearing. When she licks her lips, a cocky smirk grows on my face.
“I’m off at eleven, why don’t you let me take you home?” I offer, keeping my voice low and gravely.
She takes another pull from her cocktail before placing it down on the counter and leaning in towards me, mirroring my movements. At this point, our faces are mere inches apart and I feel the rest of the world starting to fade away. It’s as if the entire bar is empty and it’s just the two of us.
“Sorry, pretty boy, but I already have someone who I’m hoping will do that.” Her voice drips with control and confidence and the way she looks at me tells me that she knows that if she asked me to get on my knees for her, I would. “Besides, I don’t do repeats. I’m more of a one-and-done kinda girl.” When she winks at me I can feel the tension between us growing. I open my mouth to say something when a voice comes from behind her.
“Ophelia, sorry I’m late, traffic on the bridge. You look stunning tonight.” A man I don’t recognize places a hand on the small of her back and I want to reach across the bar and break his fucking fingers. She turns and looks up at him before placing a cordial peck on the side of his cheek.
“It’s no problem at all. Let’s go find a table.” She picks up her drink and he offers her his hand to help her down from her stool. As they start to walk away together, she turns over her shoulder and gives me a confident smile.
“Bye, pretty boy,” she hums, waving a few fingers in my direction as her date guides her to an open table. When I stand up straight, it’s more than just my hip bones that are pressed into the back of the bar.
* * *
Over the next hour,I’m forced to watch her on her date. The schlub she’s with is wearing a plaid button down shirt and slacks of all things. What the fuck does she see in him? A few times he leans in and whispers something in her ear and she throws her head back laughing as if he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. As I watch her from afar, I continue to take orders, clean glasses, and check in on the staff. As summer draws to a close, this will be one of our last few busy weekends before things around the city slow down and the tourist season ends.
“Hey, I’m slammed over here, can you take this to table twelve for me?” Alice asks, sliding me a cocktail. Having the tables memorized, I look up at table twelve and smirk as an idea takes shape in my mind.
“You got it.”
Walking over to her table, I smile confidently at the people eating and enjoying their evenings. As I approach, she catches my eye and tilts her head to one side. Once at her table, I set the glass down, and pull my lips back a fraction of an inch.
“Another cocktail for the lady.”
“Thank you,” she says slowly, following me with her eyes as I lean in close to her as I set it down.
“It’s the bartender’s job to deliver drinks to the tables when people order them. I’m Malcolm.” I offer my hand to the guy. He squeezes his eyebrows together before painting a confused smile on his face and taking my hand to shake.
