The doorway and the counter area were outlined in glow-in-the-dark paint. Blackout blinds were placed over the window. Black chalkboard paper was placed on the walls with glow-in-the-dark chalk for customers to leave messages on the wall. Screams and psychotic laughter filled the air from the speaker embedded into the ceiling.
By the time we arrived at the bar, it was dusk. The air was cold and breezy. The clouds were dark and menacing, brewing up a storm, for sure. The parking lot lights were changed to strobe lights as if nighttime in the middle of nowhere wasn’t uncomfortable enough. Cars were already pulling into the parking lot, and we didn’t open for another thirty minutes.
“Hello, Angel of Death,” I said to the demon at the entryway. I grew accustomed to the little guy. Okay, more like a gigantic thing. In my peripheral vision, I noticed pulsating lights already at work inside the bar.
“Hey, Joe, what gives? Geez, you had to do strobe lights too? When this town goes for a theme, y’all really take it home, don’t you?” I had to yell so he could hear me over the loud music coming from the center stage. Joe hired a local band for the evening. The lights really didn’t bother me. I just liked to torment him.
“Heck yeah! You can’t have a proper Halloween Party without colorful flashing lights. Happy Halloween, ladies.” Joe had the biggest smile on his face. “Girls get your cash tills and get ready. I’m goin’ to open the doors now. We don’t want to keep our customers waiting.” Myra and I both stared at him. He was way too happy. He had something up his sleeve. We did as he said, and not five minutes later, the place was packed.
“Are you ready, Myra?” I gritted my teeth in response to the crowd.
“No, are you?” She had her eyebrow raised as she stared at the people piling in.
“Absolutely not. Maybe you can pay off your debt after tonight.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Here goes nothin’.” We plastered smiles on our faces, put an extra twang in our accents and headed toward the floor.
I took orders from the first ten tables and delivered those as I hit the rest. My mental order tray was full before I had finished delivering the orders on my actual tray. I repeated the same process repeatedly. The night was so busy that I couldn’t seem to catch up with anything. I collected five orders per one delivery. I was sure that I had forgotten some orders. By ten o’clock, the patrons were so drunk they probably didn’t notice that I had forgotten an order or two.
Customers were happily standing against the walls. We had no time to think or stop. Taking orders as we delivered orders was all the night had in store for us.
By midnight, I had already stolen a moment away to trade out my very painful heels for my flats. I was so grateful to have remembered my emergency shoes. The night had beaten me down. I was so exhausted that I was no longer able to form a coherent thought. The ankle that was hurt from the fall earlier was swollen and throbbing.
The staff continued to deliver drinks and bus tables, the music continued to blare on, and customers never stopped piling in. I felt like the person on the inside of an overcrowded phone booth pressed against the glass. Joe and Brad tried to get me to stay off my foot, but I was stubborn. They needed me, and I needed money.
“Folks, this is last-call.” The announcement from the microphone on center stage as one Drew plucked his guitar to the intro of “Enter Sandman” by Metallica. Drew, the lead singer of the band, had one sexy voice. “The ladies will come around to take your last order of the evening. No, fellas a compliment is not a tip. Please, tip these fine ass ladies extremely well for working so hard.” He played the first verse. “You know, we travel to a lot of places. I have to say that this place is my favorite. My cup is never empty and the atmosphere is crazy. Plus, these ladies are some tough girls. Who loves strong women?”
The crowd roared. Drew sang the chorus of “Enter Sandman.” The crowd roared louder.
“There is no place like this place. Where else can you sit back while a foxy lady keeps your drink full? This place is a dream come true. Let’s show our appreciation. Give it up for those taking care of you tonight.”
The crowd roared and cheered.
“When I say, give it up, I mean money.” Drew winked. “I don’t want signals to get crossed, just sayin’.”
The crowd cheered and laughed.
Whispers in the Night played a mellow tune to close out the evening.
“Oh, thank you!” I said to myself, making the last round as fast as I could.
Then I headed straight to the bar, waiting to cash out my till. “Vanessa, sit down,” Brad insisted. He had an ice pack ready; and he placed it on my ankle after he lifted me onto a bar stool, propping my foot on the bar stool next to me.
“How much do you think you made tonight?” I asked Myra, staring at my massive stack of cash.
“I have no idea. You count first,” she proposed.
I counted out the hundred and handed it back to Brad. He logged it and put it into the register. I waited while Myra handed Brad her starting funds.
“How was your night, Brad?” As I asked the question, I realized, other than barking orders at him, I hadn’t gotten to talk to him since the customers began pouring in.
“Busy ‘bout sums it up.” He looked exhausted. “I didn’t see you at the festival today,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Um, yeah, we had to leave early.”
