Oriana
Deep breaths, I tell myself.
I need to take deep breaths because this can’t possibly be real.
It’s the third place I’ve tried to apply for a job, but the first that would actually take me. In small towns like these, I’m not sure if it’s because I’m an outsider or if it’s because I look different from everyone else, but it doesn’t matter because I have something now. Dale is giving me a shot and I’m not going to let him down.
He’s clean-cut, for a guy working at a bar, and I wonder what his story is. He’s got tan skin with short brown hair cropped close. If I had to guess, I’d say he was in the military, at least for awhile. The tip of a tattoo peeked out from beneath his t-shirt, but I couldn’t really make it out. It might have been an anchor or some sort of nautical design. A compass, perhaps? Maybe I’ll see it sometime.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, Oriana.
Willing myself to stay focused, I hang my jacket on one of the hooks in the tiny break room. It’s not a big bar, but it’s the only real place to hang out at night in this town, so I’m guessing it probably gets pretty busy. There are fifteen tables, along with pool tables and dart boards. Plus there’s the bar itself, which spans the length of the back of the room. Whoever designed this place did it with the intention of making money. That much is obvious.
The break room is comfortable and cozy. I’ve never worked at a place with a room like this before. There are hooks and cubbies along one side of the room and the other side has a couch, a coffee pot, and a little television. There’s even a blanket at one end of the couch. Does someone sleep here? Is that for the staff?
I have a lot of questions, but I try to bite them back. Dale gave me a job, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let me keep it. If I screw up, I’m out on my own. I know that better than anyone. I’ve come a long way from home and I have no intention of returning.
There’s nothing left for me to go back to, anyway.
I hurry back to the front of the bar. I shouldn’t have worn heels today, but if it means a paycheck and tips, I’m not going to complain. My feet will be hurting later, but I’m thankful to have this shot. My heels click against the floor as I scurry back over to Dane.
No one thought I was ever going to get out of that town, but I did. I left. I proved everyone wrong and I’m going to make something of myself, starting with tonight. I’m going to be the best damn waitress this bar has ever seen.
I move behind the bar and I put my purse in the cupboard Dale pointed out earlier. He’s making a drink when I come out, but he stops and looks me up and down.
“You comfortable in those shoes?” He asks.
“They’re fine,” I say.
He raises an eyebrow. “There’s an extra pair of sneakers in the back,” he says. “The girl who just quit left them behind. I think she was probably about your size. If you want to try them on, I guarantee they’re going to be more comfortable than when you’ve got on. Things might be dead right now, but around seven, it’s going to get busy. You probably aren’t going to want to be risking a fall in those shoes. Not with people pushing and shoving.”
“What happens at seven?”
“The college kids have a game night. It’s going to be packed. Trust me when I say you’re not going to want to be in heels. Not that you don’t look gorgeous,” he adds. “But the floors are going to be slippery because these kids are slobs and spill constantly.” He shakes his head. “I should start giving them their drinks in sippy cups,” he adds. “Not sure why I don’t.”
I choke back a snicker. “Thanks for the shoes,” I say quickly. “I’ll go find them.” I duck back into the break room, locate the sneakers, and slip them on. I regret not having socks to wear and I’ll probably get a blister, but this is definitely way better than wearing heels. I carefully set the too-tall shoes I was wearing next to the couch. I’m sure they’ll be fine back here until the end of my shift.
“Just breathe,” I remind myself, and then I head back out front. There are a few more people in the bar, and Dale motions for me to start taking orders.
“Don’t worry about charging anyone,” he says. “These are all regulars and I’ll put everything on their tabs. Just write down what they order.”
“Got it,” I say, and I move toward my first customer.
“What can I get for you?” I ask with a smile.
“For starters, how about your phone number?” The old man says with a grin.
“Bill!” Dale hollers, chastising the man. Bill sheepishly blushes.
“I’m sorry, miss,” he says. “I’ll just have a beer.”
I look back over at Dale, surprised he’s managing to keep everyone in line so well, surprised everyone seems to be obeying him, and I go to get Bill’s beer. Something tells me that working at this bar isn’t going to be what I’m expecting it to be.
Not at all.
*
My first shift flies by in a blur of drink orders, laughter, and music. A couple of people bring guitars in and jam out for awhile, but then Dale turns on the jukebox and the music goes all night. At 2:30, he flips the lights on and people start filing out of the bar slowly. By 3:00, the doors are locked and we’re cleaning tables, counting tips, and getting ready to go home.
In addition to me and Dale, there are two other people who work at the bar. Kyle is the muscle and Audrey is a waitress. She doesn’t make any drinks, but she’s great at getting orders and filling them. She keeps the customers happy. A people person, Dale calls her, and it seems to suit her.
“Here’s your portion of the tips,” Dale hands me a wad of ones.
“Seriously?” I stare at the money in my hand.
“It was kind of a slow night,” he says. “Don’t worry. Tips will be better tomorrow.”
“No,” I shake my head. “It’s not that. It’s just that…”
“What is it?”
Audrey looks at me and then her jaw drops. “You think it’s too much,” she says. “You weren’t expecting that much.”
“Where are you from?” Kyle asks, leaning against the bar. “A place without a bar?”
“I’m from a super small town in Minnesota,” I tell them. It’s not a lie. It’s true, in fact. I don’t really want to talk about my past or where I’m from, but that much I’m comfortable sharing. “Not many people come or go.”
“Kinda like here,” Audrey shrugs. “Guess you’ll fit in well.”
“You left one small town for another,” Kyle shakes his head and chuckles. Then he grabs his keys and heads for the back door. “Crazy girl,” he laughs. “See you guys tomorrow.”
Audrey takes off, too, and then it’s just me and Dale.
“You did well,” he tells me. For a minute, I think he’s going to say something else, but he doesn’t.
“Thanks.” I motion to the shoes. “I’ll go take these off,” I tell him.
“Nah, keep them. Heather’s not coming back anytime soon, and those are name brand. If I’ve got you pinned correctly, I’d say you probably don’t have a whole lot to your name right now. Is that right?”
Too right.
I nod slowly, not ready to give up all of my secrets at once.
“If you ever need a free meal, the Catholic church has sandwiches and soup every day at 11. Completely free. There’s also a food bank around the corner. It’s one of those ‘honor system’ types of deals, but they have canned goods. You can get what you need there. There’s a dollar store, too, so you should be okay. All right? And we’ll get your paychecks coming in as soon as possible.”
“Thanks Dale,” I say, and I mean it.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Oriana,” he says.
You know what’s funny?
I kind of believe him.