~ Nick
“Eight cock-sucking cowboys please.”
I force my eyes to focus on the overly made-up face and not the cleavage that’s pressed against the bar and ordering these ridiculous drinks. It’s an effort not to roll my eyes and tell her to order a real drink, but I know I can’t afford to be an arsehole.
Sometimes it’s hard though. Hard to know if they genuinely think they’re the first girl to try and seductively order a suggestive drink like this or they just think it’s that funny when they do and I won’t mind hearing it for the millionth fucking time. I want to tell them they’re not and I do and that it’s really not as sexy as they think it is. But like I said, I can’t afford to be an arsehole.
“Sure thing,” I say, forcing a smile. “Special occasion?” I ask, waving a hand in her general direction as though I actually care.
Her smile widens, her chest pressing a bit harder against the bar as though the sight of her tits, barely contained within her dress, is what I want to see right now. It’s not that I don’t appreciate a nice set of tits; of course I do, but not like this.
“She’s getting married,” she gushes, gesturing to the skinny brunette wearing a red lace veil and sash with the words Bride-To-Be flashing across it.
“Right,” I say, half sarcastically. Too dumb and too drunk.
I turn away and busy myself making the shots, wondering how it is my bar has ended up being a haven for bachelorette parties. This is not how I envisaged things would be when I opened the place and there’s a part of me that would like to ban them. Half the time it’s nothing but screeching, yelling girls, who buy hardly any drinks and somehow walk out of here leaving trails of glitter and other shit in their wake. It’s annoying as fuck. But then the other part of me knows that the sight of half dressed women brings in plenty of other customers too. Ones that not only order real drinks, but pay for them too.
“Here we go,” I say, turning back with the drinks.
The girl smiles at me again, fluttering her eyelashes as she pulls a couple of notes from between her breasts and hands them to me.
I play the game, cocking an eyebrow at her because I know that’s what she expects and when I turn to the cash register, she leans over the bar and smacks me on the arse, the move earning her a round of cheers from her friends. This time I don’t stop the eye roll, shoving the money in the register and not even bothering with her change. She’s too drunk to notice anyway.
“Looks like you’re in, mate,” Tony says.
I shoot him a look that says; don’t encourage them, and he only laughs. He doesn’t hate this stuff as much as I do, mostly because my lack of interest means easy targets for him I guess. These girls throw themselves at bartenders, shamelessly, and I guarantee he’ll finish work tonight with at least a couple of phone numbers, all of which he’ll no doubt use too.
“They’re all yours,” I say, pushing him towards their end of the bar.
Tony laughs as he swaggers towards them and I take the opportunity to duck out the back to my office.
I close the door behind me and sit down at my desk, throwing a half interested look over the piles of orders and bills I have; the framed photo that sits behind them. Reaching into my drawer, I pull out the bottle of eighteen-year-old MacCallan that was a promised gift when I opened this place and pour myself a glass.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you know,” I say to the photo, raising my drink in salute.
I stare at the image, wondering how differently things could’ve been if they hadn’t ended up the way they are now. We were supposed to do this together, that had always been the dream. But then she’d left and even though she made sure I was all set up to do this alone, that still wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I exhale hard, throwing back my drink. It doesn’t matter how many times I stare at the picture, looking for answers, I know I’m never going to find them. I also know I need to get back out to the front and help Tony. As much as he might like the drunken girls and their parties, it’s Saturday night and there are plenty of other customers who need drinks.
I push out of my chair, carrying the glass as I head back out to the bar, hoping the party of girls moves on soon.
Wondering if there will ever come a time when I can too.