Chapter Two
The next morning came after a night of cards and wine with my grandma. She was sure to send Susie into the bedroom to wake me up. The lab’s large black paws pushed into my chest, and her wet, slobbery tongue dragged across my face, leaving a pile of drool. Not the best way to start the day.
“You ready to start making some money?” Grandma chirped out in a high soprano voice. She ran to the blinds and opened them wide, inducing bright sunlight.
“I’ve already made you eggs and bacon and sausage. I couldn’t remember if you disliked bacon, or if that was your dad, so I made both!”
“Thanks, Grandma.” My voice was groggy. She danced out of the room, singing to herself. I slid the red quilt off my lap and shuffled to the bathroom. My reflection stared back at me. I rubbed my chin. I needed to shave. Didn’t matter if it was Hillview or Chicago, I couldn’t go in for a job interview looking in this rough of shape. I decided to shave after breakfast and sat down to the full plate of eggs and bacon and sausage.
After I had eaten and taken a shower, Grandma and I got into her car—an old German thing. It was only a two-minute drive down the only road running through the town.
“I could have walked,” I said as she pulled into the parking lot.
“Well, we don’t want you to get all sweaty walking in the sun.” She smiled and patted my leg, “I like these khakis.”
“Tiffany got them for me.”
The smile on her face turned flat, and she leaned her head back.
“You want me to come inside with you?”
“No, I should be fine,” I smiled reassuringly. I wasn’t nervous. I mean, I knew I would definitely get a job at the new local bar in the middle of Hillview; I just did not want it. I should have known my grandma would find me some assignment, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her no. I got out of the car, tucking my light gray button-down into my brown belt. It was the only sort of nice clothing I had packed with me. It seemed to be fine.
Dog House sat at the corner. The smell of the newly-planted garden and fresh paint mixed in the fresh air. A young waitress, about twenty, walked out. She had sleek black hair, which fell by her shoulders. Her light green eyes met mine with a kind look. She reminded me of cat, with delicate features and a smooth demeanor anyone would be attracted to.
“Daniel Peters?” she asked in a cool, calm voice. I noticed her name tag read Melissa. It was placed right above her large, round breasts, which peaked through a white blouse.
“Yup.”
“Your grandma said you were looking for a job?”
“Sort of,” I mumbled.
“What do you mean, sort of?”
“I mean, yes of course,” I tried laughing it off, but I could only picture my grandmother approaching this poor girl and announcing her single grandson was looking for a job, stressing the single part, and not the unemployment.
She smiled a beautiful smile.
“Okay, cool. You’ll speak with my older brother, Troy. He owns this place and is also the manager.”
I nodded, following her into the bar. Light flooded into the room through the tall windows, exposing the bar and removing the usual mysterious haze. It had dark wood floors, and just like every building in the area, had wood paneling. The walls were covered with paintings and photos of nature. It had the feel of the northern American culture, with a mix of clean and new. A large metal bar sat in the middle of the room, wrapping around in a circle.
And that’s where I saw him, leaning over the bar with a white rag scrubbing at the top of the counter. His blue shirt’s sleeves were rolled to his elbows, exposing his large forearms. He stopped cleaning the counter when the door swung open. His looked up and smiled. He was tall and built like me. He was identical to his sister—the sleek black hair, the green eyes, and the cat-like movements. One look from him, and I felt exposed, like he knew some dark secret about me.
“Daniel, right?” he asked with a deep voice. I suddenly became nervous. I wanted to impress this guy. He was the type people stopped and admired when they walked into a room.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Heard you need a job.”
“I do.”
“Well, we need servers, especially with summer rolling in and all the locals pouring in here. And I heard you have some waiting experience?”
“I do.”
“You think you could be a bartender?”
“I do.”
“Look, Daniel, I’m not proposing to you.” He let out a low laugh. I hadn’t even noticed what he meant until after he scrunched his heavy eyebrows up.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Uh, yeah. Just you know, excited for this opportunity.”
He took a step back and smirked. His eyes fell on mine, and I quickly glanced away.
“You seem like a nice guy, Daniel.”
“Thanks.”
“I know this isn’t the most formal interview, but hey, I don’t consider myself to be much of a formal guy. Never been a fan of customs or shit.”
His hands tightened around the rag.
“When do you think you can start?”
“Honestly, the sooner the better.”
“All right, eager. I like it.”
He tossed the rag over his shoulder and put his hands behind his head.
“How about you come in tomorrow morning, and Melissa will go through training and all the paperwork. She can handle the fun part.” He shot a thumbs up to his sister, who flashed her middle finger back.
He laughed at her then—one of those genuine laughs, the kind where one finds themselves smiling, too, because it feels good to see someone so happy.
I walked out in a much better mood. Actually, I was quite excited, starting a new job and a life away from Tiffany. I had invested so much of my own identity into her that I lost myself, and it was time for me to act upon my freedom. I smiled at the idea of Melissa, and how Tiffany would lose her mind. I decided then that I would enjoy my new job and make new friends. Troy seemed like a really good guy to work for.
Grandma was absolutely thrilled when I got into the car. She took a lot of pride in being the one who set the job up, but even more so, she was thrilled I was happy. We went and got lunch together at the small Italian restaurant down the street, discussing the next five years of my life. I told her that, once I had more money saved, I planned on moving out to New York or Chicago to try and work behind the scenes on some TV production. She liked the idea, nodding with approval and trying to remember any friends who would know someone to contact for advice.
The rest of the day was spent relaxing on the lake and soaking in the fresh air. I found myself finally thinking about the future without Tiffany, and being okay with it. It changed things, but it would be okay. I waited for the relapse of depression to wander in, but it didn’t. I went to bed, wondering about work.
I walked into the bar for training the next day, dressed casually in light jeans and a t-shirt. There was another new person—it was a quiet girl named Liz with light, almost white, blonde hair that was bound up in a messy bun. Her face was sharp and pointed, and she sat chewing on her finger nails. The wear was visible from the nervous habit. She abruptly stopped when we made eye contact.
Melissa stood behind the counter, holding two folders. She handed us the pamphlets, telling us to fill out the mundane sheets to file away.
Training continued on in that way. We would show up, and then Melissa worked with us. There were two other servers as well, who had been working there for a few days. One guy named Brett who obviously had grown up in a fifty-mile radius around Hillview was planning on working to save money for college. He was thirty. Brett just had that northern air about him; he had been breathing it in too long. His wardrobe consisted of only flannel button-downs, and his conversations always begin with fishing, hunting, or driving, which I suppose was fine for Brett. He lived a simple life in a simple town. His cousin George also worked there. They were like two peas in a pod.
Taylor and Jones were the two cooks, both middle-aged and good friends. Liz told me later that they had tried opening a bar down the street but went bankrupt when Jones got into a gambling issue. They certainly could whip up a mean burger. That’s what everyone in town ordered when they came to Dog House—a double cheeseburger with the secret “Dog” sauce. It was strange when someone would wander into the place asking for a salad or some kind of wrap. It was an instant giveaway they were from out of town, but that usually meant a higher tip.
It only took me about three days to pick up the feel of the restaurant and get into the habit. It was slow a lot of time, and the people here were kind. Grandma had stopped in every day for lunch and to say hello. I worked a lot, and I didn’t mind. There wasn’t too much going on, and it wasn’t like my schedule was full. Liz and I were becoming close friends. She was similar to me, being a recent graduate from college just working here for the summer while her family stayed at their cottage.
Troy kept mainly in his office. Every once in a while, he would walk out to check on the servers or the customers, taking care of problems, or answering phone calls. After training, Melissa didn’t come into the restaurant that often. She would sometimes serve a table or two, then spend the rest of the day in her brother’s office.
It was the Saturday of the second week I was working, and the dinner rush had just cleared out. Mainly the customers were people on vacation with their kids, who were tired and trying their very best to not act like the family vacation became more stressful than staying home for the weekend.
My last table had left—an older couple who came about once a week for the menu special. Troy popped his head out of the door. His green eyes directed at me.
“Daniel, come here!” he ordered.
I glanced up at the bar owner from a table I was wiping down and followed him into his office.
“Been getting a lot of compliments about your serving and bartending,” he said, sitting down at his desk.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you for putting in the effort. I know it can be kind of slow here, but hey, you’re doing great.”
“I really don’t mind.”
He flashed that same big smile and leaned back into his chair.
“Well, keep it up.”
I reached for the door knob
“Wait, you’ve got tomorrow off, right?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You like to fish?”
“I haven’t fished since I was in high school with my grandpa up here.”
“You want to go tomorrow?”
I had nothing planned, and it probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to get close to my boss. I stared at his kind eyes, his slight smirk.
“Sure, yeah, that’d be fine.”
“I can pick you up tomorrow early in the morning, then. I’ll text you!”
“Yeah, okay, that works out.” I smiled then. I would have to reschedule the breakfast I had planned with Grandma, but it was okay. I hadn’t done anything except for work and spend time with Grandma and Susie. I had offered to take Liz bowling last week, but she told me her boyfriend wouldn’t appreciate her hanging out with other men. I hadn’t reached out to any of my old friends since moving. I was actually excited to go fishing. I liked it when I would go with Grandpa, even if I never caught anything, but getting to know Troy would be nice.
I went home that night and told Grandma about fishing. She was excited and went straight into the attic to pull out the fishing pole and tackle box. She placed the red fishing pole on the table. It was the one my grandpa always used to catch bass and pike—the “Lucky Rod.” Hopefully, I would catch something tomorrow.