Page 63 of Casita Casanova
“Yeah,” I say curtly, my irritation difficult to mask. She’s been a stay-at-home mom for twenty years and she’s going through some shit. Give the woman a break.
I keep my thoughts about Maryn to myself because I’m not supposed to know her outside of work.
Greg motions toward the long row of taps that line the wall. “You want one? Employees drink for free. You know, as long as we don’t abuse it.”
I look at him, then look at the lineup as an idea forms in my mind. Actually… I shortchanged myself. It’s not just an idea; it’s abrilliantidea. “Do we have kegs?”
Greg’s brow furrows. “You can’t take a keg for free.”
Gee, thanks, fucker.Like I couldn’t figure that out for myself. “Do we sell them?”
He nods.
“Got one of the Honey Blonde?”
“Of course. It’s our best seller.”
“And taps? Do we sell taps for the kegs?”
“Yes.” He points to a wall of merch.
“Perfect. Ring me up for a keg of the Honey Blonde and a tap to match.” I pause, then add, “And two pints.”
“All right, boss.”
Boss.Smiling like the smug asshole I am, I finish cleaning up the bar.That’s right, Greg, even when I work for you, you can sense the proper pecking order.
“You have a keg fridge at home?”
I raise my eyebrow. “No?”
“Oh, you should totally buy one.” He pulls out his phone and types into it, then turns it toward me. It’s basically just a mini fridge with a keg on top.
And I happen to have a mini fridge arriving soon. What luck.
After he rings me up, he turns the register toward me. “One-fifty-five sixty-five.”
My eyes widen. “No shit?”
Greg laughs. “I can take it out of your first paycheck if you’d rather…?”
“Yeah. Do that.”
“Right on. Let me go grab it for you.” He motions toward a stack of bills on the counter. “That’s yours, by the way. Good tip night tonight. Really good.”
Can’t imagine why.
I grab my stack and count through the bills. Over two-fifty. Nice. I don’t know why people make such a big deal about regular jobs. That was an easy night. I even got a number, though I tossed it in the trash immediately.
I’m not going to ponder that too long, though, because the fact that I threw that chick’s phone number out instead of slipping it into my pocket for a rainy day makes me question myself—
And that’s a road I don’t want to go down.
I know where it leads.
To whom it leads.
And she’s currently the least attainable woman I’ve ever met.
