“You’re not without help. You’ve got me.”
“Oh, so you will be my waitress?”
“Fuck no. Yeah, I can pour drinks and, yeah, I can run them to tables, too. But you sure as shit ain’t calling me a waitress.”
“Fine,” I say, smiling. “Your new job title is ‘bartender’s assistant’ and your duties include pouring beers — because, no matter how much experience you think you have, your mixology skills are nowhere near my own, and I am not letting you even touch my custom mixed bitters and liqueurs — and waitressing duties. Does that massage your ego enough?”
“Well enough,” he says. “Now, let’s get to work, boss.”
“Don’t forget, I keep a bat under the counter and I know how to use it. So keep your attitude to yourself, assistant.”
He laughs, and then we settle in to work. Cleaning, setting up, chopping garnishes, righting furniture, and going over every inch of this place until it looks like last night’s nightmare never happened. At the outset, I was worried that it’d be hard or awkward working with Crash, but it turns out to be easy. He’s dropped his harsh exterior, and I have fun with him. At one point, just before we open the doors, we’re joking around and throwing limes at each other — which we quickly clean up before our first customer arrives. Crash pulls double duty that night, not only as my assistant, but as a bouncer as well, and his intimidating scowl is enough to keep all of my customers on their best behavior.
By the end of the night, I’m exhausted, but I’m happy and I’m able to keep the terrifying thoughts about Kendra in the back of my mind instead of letting them overwhelm me.
When the door shuts behind the last customer and I start wiping down the bar and getting ready to call it a night, Crash comes over to the bar and he puts a big handful of cash down on the bartop.
“What’s this?” I say.
“Tips. They’re yours.”
“No way, you earned those fair and square.”
“Maybe, but I’m not taking them. If you won’t take them, at least put them aside for your friend and her daughter, Josie.”
I pick up the cash and shove it in my pocket. “I will. Thank you.”
Then I pour us each a glass of bourbon. Crash picks up his, we tap glasses, and then we each take a long drink.
“Tonight went better than I thought. But I’ll be damned if I know how you stay on your feet the whole time, day in and day out.”
I lift my leg up and put my foot on the bar. “Good shoes, and even better insoles. These things might look like shit, but you have to pick comfort over style. I feel like I’m walking on a cloud.”
“And you’re flexible as hell.”
“Don’t you know that already? Or do you need another demonstration?”
He finishes his bourbon and then helps himself to a refill. “I wouldn’t say no.”
I lean across the bar and kiss him. Then again. After, I fill my glass and take a satisfying sip, letting the silky smooth burn slide down my throat.
“Tonight’s been a lot better than I would’ve guessed. Thank you.”
He shrugs. “No problem.”
“Can I ask you something?” I say, hesitantly.
“You just did.”
“Don’t be an ass. I’m serious.”
“Shoot.”
I finish my glass and pour myself another refill of liquid courage. “Why were you such a dick to me earlier? And don’t say it’s for business purposes, because the only people whose job actively requires being a dick are debt collectors and divorce attorneys.”
“You speak from experience?”
I hold up my left hand and point to my ring finger. “I’ve been free for the last four years. But before then, yeah. He was an asshole, he was jealous that I had a better job and made more money than him, and then he cheated on me. Several times. After the divorce and after I moved out here to start this bar, he knew I would be hard up for cash. So he took out a couple credit cards in my name and ran up an enormous debt, trying to sink my dreams. Even from states away, he found a way to hit me.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“Yeah, he was. But he’s given up, now. In the end, he was just a petty coward who didn’t like that he couldn’t control me,” I say as I stare into my glass. Surprisingly, I don’t feel any reluctance to talk to Crash about my past. Or any regret about how things have turned out, either. “But I’m happy where I am, now. Excluding what’s happened to Kendra. I have friends here, Carbon Ridge is a mostly great place to live, and my bar makes more than enough to support me and my friends. And I get the satisfaction of knowing it’s all mine. Now, enough about me. It’s time for my assistant to talk.”
Crash goes quiet and, for a while, I worry that his icy shell will return and he’ll open his mouth just to shoot me down like he did when we first met. But then, with a sigh and a big drink of bourbon, he speaks. “I was in a long relationship. For a long time. Over a long distance. Her name was Rosa, and what we had was real good. No questions, no demands, just an understanding and a whole lot of sex whenever we saw each other. And then things changed. Recently. And she started making some demands. Maybe it was age, maybe someone started whispering things in her ear, but she started changing. It hurt like hell to let her go, but she was putting me in a spot where she wanted me to choose between my club
