“Hey!”Oliver says. “Where do you need me?”
“Thank fuck,” I huff. “We're dangerously close to running out of glasses.”
“On it,” he says, already grabbing a tub.
A burst of laughter filters down from the side of the bar Dad has been holding down for the past hour. I lay my hands on the back counter and allow my head to hang for a few precious breaths.
“Show's not over yet, boy,” Dad says, reaching for a bottle by my head.
“I know.”
He nudges me with an elbow. “You alright?”
“Yeah.” I manage a half-assed smile alongside the half-assed truth. Maybe together they'd equal something believable.
It wasn't that the bar was packed. Or even that we were short. Both happened on the same night plenty of times in the past. It’s just that those times hadn't been preceded by my cousins coming close to blows in the kitchen—their yelling loud enough that the whole bar heard. I'd sentthem both home for different reasons. Ginelle was, justifiably, too worked up and Joey too fucked up to finish their shifts.
The worst part was that it just had to happen on a night Michael was covering bar back duties. I maybe could've gotten away with keeping the situation quiet, given Joey one last chance, but as it stood, I was fresh out of free passes.
“The cavalry has arrived. Nobody panic!” Lucy announces as she steps behind the bar.
“Took you long enough,” Oliver ribs as he grabs another tub of glassware.
“Shouldn't you be on a date?” Lucy asks him as she passes a half apron to?—
“Toni?” My brain cannot comprehend why she’s here, why Lucy’s handing her an apron, or why she’s putting it on.
“That is my name.” She flashes that dimpled grin at me.
“Iwason a date,” Oliver answers Lucy's question. “And trust me, I'd rather be elbows deep in stale beer.”
“Woof,” Lucy says, eyes focused on the table map she’s sketching on a piece of receipt paper.
“Understatement,” Oliver says as he backs into the kitchen door. “Thought you two were going to a movie?” He asks Lucy and Toni.
“We ended up burning things instead,” Lucy says, as if it's the most normal thing to do on a Thursday night. “Ok, so it's pretty easy. Table numbers—” She begins to explain to Toni.
“Hold on,” I interrupt. Without further explanation, I gently take Toni's arm and pull her into the kitchen.
“Fuck outta my kitchen unless you're cooking or cleaning!” Michael declares. He switches his focus from the grill to me and Toni. “Oh! Hi. You're...Toni?”
She nods. “I am.”
“Michael,” he introduces himself with a nod. “Nice to meet you. But?—”
“Get the fuck out of your kitchen?” she finishes with a good-natured tone.
“Please and thank you!” He tosses over his shoulder as he flips a burger.
“For fucks sake,” I grumble leading Toni into the small walk-in.
“I should get out there?—”
“Why are you here?” I ask as soon as the door closes.
She cocks an eyebrow. “Lucy said it was a 911 situation. Figured that meant all hands on deck.”
“Not yours.”
