Page 5 of For the Plot
“Sup.” Sasha extended her fist, and I bumped it as I looked around to see what needed to get done. “You wanna prep more garnish before the rush begins?” She nodded her head towards the bowls of lemon peels, cherries, olives, and such that lined the bar, and I saw that they were indeed dwindling.
“Who else is in tonight?” I asked as I pulled out everything I needed, getting to work peeling half the lemons and slicing the other half.
“Well I won’t be here for much longer actually, just need to finish up some paperwork in the back first.”
“Oh, I see, too good for the rest of us plebes, huh?”
Sasha just rolled her eyes at me. She’d never admit it out loud, but I knew she loved me.
“Remind me again why I haven’t fired you yet?”
“Because then you wouldn’t get to see my earth-shatteringly good looks on a regular basis anymore, and then how sad would your life be?”
“Oh no, the horror," she deadpanned. I responded by winking and blowing her a kiss, which finally got her to crack a smile. “It would definitely be quieter around here without you, that’s for sure.”
“What I’m hearing is ‘boring.’”
This time she snapped her towel at me, hitting my shoulder, which I grabbed in exaggerated pain while shouting about workers' comp.
Sasha continued as if she hadn’t gotten sidetracked, “But it’s going to be Peter and Megan with you tonight.”
I groaned. “Why do you keep scheduling me with Megan? I keep telling you I can’t stand her.”
“And I keep telling you, as my assistant manager, too fucking bad.”
“Why can’t we fireher?”
Sasha closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as she took a deep breath, before turning around and ignoring me. “What! She always gets in my way and makes my drinks instead of doing her own fucking job.”
“Then fucking tell her to stop!”
“You think I haven’t?”
Sasha just shook her head, patting my shoulder as she walked past me to the back offices. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out. You’re a big boy.” A smirk made its way across my face, but as I opened my mouth to respond, she threw over her shoulder, “Don’t even think about it.”
“Megan,goservetheother side of the bar, I got this,” I spoke through gritted teeth, trying not to let my annoyance show to the customers sitting at the bar in front of us. It was ten p.m. and the height of our nighttime rush, and if she got in my space one more time I was gonna lose my damn mind.
She huffed at me, but finally went to the other side of the bar to help the customers who had been trying to get her attention. I finished up the martini I had been working on, adding the garnish before throwing the towel over my shoulder and sliding it across the counter towards the customer waiting.
She winked at me as she picked it up, swinging her hips as she walked back towards the table where a gaggle of her friends waited, watching the whole thing and bursting into whispers and giggles the second she rejoined them. I kept the pleasantly neutral look on my face, knowing that the less grumpy I looked, the more tips I would get.
But god, it was nights like this that made me question my decision to work with people for a living. I kept forgetting how much I disliked the general public. Well, more accurately that I have very little patience for stupidity, and people were very stupid. But it wasn't like there was much further Sasha could promote me here, and I really didn’t want to try starting over somewhere else.
Besides, I didn’t like the feelings of financial insecurity that came from leaving a job and starting a new one. Growing upwith just me and my mom, I had experienced enough financial insecurity for a lifetime. It was just easier to stay the course.
The night continued on in the same way as it did every night. New customer, light flirting, rinse, repeat. I didn’t want to admit it, but I felt like I was starting to fall into a rut. I was stuck, and I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do about it, what I wanted to change.
This boredom around work was affecting other parts of my life, too. As a demisexual person, I didn’t often feel attracted to the person I was hooking up with—I just enjoyed sex for the act itself. But even that was beginning to lose its luster.
I felt… unmoored.
The next customer walked up, and I looked him over while I prepared his drink and handed it over to him. He was definitely the kind of person I would normally flirt with to see if my interest was reciprocated. He was tall and thin, wearing a cropped T-shirt and skinny jeans. He made eye contact with me as he brought the cup up to his face before wrapping his lips around the straw and sucking the liquid up, all while maintaining eye contact.
Alright then, definitely interested. I continued to wipe the counter, making sure he could see the grin on my face even as I looked away. But then out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of black hair and a body full of curves. I looked up to the other side of the bar, but the crowd had shifted and I couldn’t see the person. I shook my head and went back to what I was doing. Nikki wasn’t here; she was at home with Will and Collins. I needed to focus on work, not my roommate.
Maybe I should hook up with someone tonight. How long had it been? It was never a good sign when you couldn’t even remember the last time you’d had sex… or who you had it with.
But that was my problem, wasn’t it? I didn’t care about the people I was hooking up with, I just wanted the release. I couldget that by myself, sure. But it was nice to have the human contact, even when I wasn’t attracted to that person. And I’d only had one sexual partner I had actually felt attracted to, and that was back in college with a long-term boyfriend. We’d been friends all through freshman and sophomore year, and I had begun to worry I was falling for him and he didn’t feel the same.
