Page 1 of Mark Us Little Bear
Ronnie
We all know the first rule of Fight Club. But what happens when your nosy roommate finds out about it? To be clear, there is no fight club just a secret.
I quickly type these words on my phone, reminding myself to add them to my project later. Pocketing it when I’m done, I skip to the bar to help with the influx of orders.
My new guy is a little slow but will get the hang of it once he gains more experience. I toss a rag over my shoulder—a force of habit—and start taking orders.
We quickly ease into it and distribute drinks like I knock candies for lunch when I forget to eat until it slows to a more convenient tempo.
A muffled sound of an argument breaks out near us between two guys. A lean man with a neatly trimmed beard sits with a curved back over the counter in the dim corner of the bar, clutching his half-finished drink in a white-knuckled gripas the otherman slurs but it’s mild so I quickly text the bouncers to stay on high alert before I continue serving.
I uncap a beer bottle and slide it to a waiting customer across. She grins widely and thanks me. I nod back a small smile attached to the gesture before I turn around to organize the shelf.
“This is our first night in New York, do you have any suggestions?”
“New York has plenty to offer,” I raise my voice enough to be heard over the noise and music, my back still against her as I go over the shelf. “What are you interested in?”
“Bartenders at the moment.” She giggles as I turn around to face her.
Here we go.It’s not the first time.
A grin is plastered on my face, steeling myself from an inappropriate reply. I set a comfortable landing instead. “I’m flattered. But I’m not available.” That’s kind of a lie but not really. There is someone but I’m just still figuring out things myself.
“Well, it was worth the try.” She smiles understandably and I appreciate the quick withdrawal.
“No harm, no foul.” As I say those words a half-filled glass finds its way onto my customer’s blouse and my face heats up, filled with anger and embarrassment as my eyes encounter the person responsible for it.
“Don’t talk to him. Don’t get near him. Find someone else to ask you stupid questions.”
Nostrils flaring, I dash around the bar and step beside my glaring ex-girlfriend.
“What is wrong with you? Why would you do that?” I whisper to my ex, a deep frown settling on my face.
“Ugh!” She exclaims, then makes a beeline for the ladies’ room.
My jaw locks. “I’m sorry about that,” I calmly apologize to the customer, “Your drinks will be free for the night. I’m sorryagain.” I don’t know if I’m speechless or want to evaporate into thin air but the muscle in my jaw already tics restlessly.
“It’s okay.” She grabs the napkin my top server is handing her. “That kind of customer is inevitable.”
A frustrated chuckle escapes me and my legs start moving independently.
The ongoing chatter in the club drills a hole in my brain. Five minutes past ten bounces off a phone screen before me as a stranger waves their hand to the side. The scent of sweat, booze, and a dozen perfumes assault my nose. I shift in my green Converse, stepping in every available direction, and trying to get myself out of this maze.
We’re hosting a neon party today and the craziness has only begun.
I quickly climb the slope toward the exit and pass the bouncers in the open entrance.
Finally, the music is a muffled sound in the background. I pace in the wide parking lot behind Luka’s building, dragging my hands over my half-painted face. I keep going, passing cars and more eager people that head inside. I run my fingers through my dark blonde hair and exhale my frustrations loudly.
The images race through my head in a loop—she’s acting like a fucking child.
I stretch my arms over my head and a chain of bone-cracking sounds erupt from my spine, rotating my head to the sides more cracks follow. The cool May breeze calms me down a bit. I don’t know where I’m standing but I need a moment. I pull my hood up and shut my eyes.
For months she’s been returning, making a scene, pretending to date guys to piss me off, thinking I would come back to her but I feel sorry for the guys she’s using. I blocked her number and socials long ago. All she does right now is make it impossible for me to work and retain my peace.
I’m so over it.
It’s been a year since we broke up and I moved on, I have no interest in her and it’s time for her to do the same.
