Page 7 of Notes About Vodka

"You heard that, too, then.” Her blush deepens. “I know I’m here to perform and wait tables, but auditions always make me nervous.”

“Yeah. You were incredible—the way you commanded the piano.” A wide grin spreads across my face at the memory. "Your playing was unforgettable—so much control and passion."

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her smile tugging at one corner of her lips.

“I’m glad you are back. Tony can be an ass but he has moments,” I begin to say but then I stop.Who gives a fuck about Tony when I have her attention.

I smile and nod toward the bar. I wink at her before asking, “How about a quick shot of vodka before the night shift kicks in? I could use a little warmth.”

“Why not,” she agrees, following me behind the bar. The familiar clink of bottles and glasses fills the air as I reach for the vodka. I pour us each a shot, the clear liquid catching the dim light of the room.

“To a good night,” I toast, raising my glass.

She clicks her glass against mine, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “To a good night,” she echoes, and we both down our shots.

The vodka burns a warm path down my throat, a contrast to the sudden coolness outside brought by the rain.

Or maybe it's still the loss of her hand in mine.

I steal a glance at her as she sets her glass down.

Her red hair is a vibrant waterfall of copper waves tonight pulled back behind her head. It looks like she just had it highlighted. The curls falling from her ponytail frame a face that’s both delicate and strong. Her skin is like Karelian snow. Fairerthan the tale of Snow White with a splatter of darker freckles across her nose, cheeks, and just a few peppering the corners of her lips. I look down at the small parts of her neck, chest, and arms that are exposed and see more freckles peeking back at me.

I start to ask her if she’s made of constellations, but my sunshine interrupts me. Like a planet stuck in her orbit, I listen as she sounds my name out slowly, “So, uh, Va-lehr-rey,” she says, and I savor each consonant and syllable, “do you always pour shots for your co-workers before a shift?” she teases, leaning against the counter.

“Please, just call me Val,” I tell her, my dark brown eyes never leaving hers. “And only the interesting ones. You’ve definitely caught my curiosity. What’s your story, dorogoiya?”

She smiles, a hint of mystery in her expression. “Well, Val. I’m just a girl with a song, looking for a place to play. The piano bar seemed like a good spot to start.”

“That explains so much,” I say, nodding. “Do you often answer cryptically?”

“Maybe,” she admits. “Do you find all your coworkers interesting?”

“No. Just you. So, how was your first shift?”

“So far, so good, I guess. I’m still getting my bearings. Do you like bartending here?”

“Well, I’ve been watching you. Like I said, you’ve got talent. And yes, I do. I make a lot of money and I get to hear beautiful siren’s who mysteriously appear. But seriously, you have real talent? Why play here?”

“Thanks so much,” she smiles brightly up at me. Her simple words send a surge of excitement through me. “I’m really just playing for fun to make some extra college money. I love music, but it's not my end goal. I have other aspirations with my life.”

As she stands at the bar, her hair slightly damp from the rain, I realize I can’t let her work in the cold AC like this. I hand her a towel from behind the bar, offering a small smile. “That’s cool. Where do you attend? Here, dry off. You look like you’ve been caught in a hurricane.”

She laughs, a soft, melodic sound that cuts through the quiet hum of the bar. “Feels like it too. I grew up in hurricane alley in the South and today definitely feels like a tropical depression. Thanks, Val. And I transferred into NYU last year, this is my second year there.”

“Really? I go there too.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Wait. How do you…” I ask. Suddenly, I’m so confused.

“Okay, don’t judge or think I’m a weird stalker, but I sit behind you in chemistry.”

“What? You do? Why didn’t you say you started working here in class Thursday morning? That was our last chemistry class right?”

Oh, geez, I didn’t miss the class, did I?

“Well, I have said good morning in the past, but no offense, you’re always on your phone.”

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