Page 3 of Wildcat
SCARLETT
The trayof shots in my hands tips to the side and clatters to the floor between customers. I squeeze my eyes shut.Fuckity fuck.It’s safe to say that bartending is not my calling.
Mike’s heavy sigh breaks through the noise of the bar as he comes around to help me.
“I’m sorry,” I say for at least the tenth time tonight as I squat down to clean up another mess.
“It’s okay.” He picks up the tray, and together we retrieve the tiny plastic cups (thank goodness they weren’t glass) and mop up the sticky liquid. “I got it. Why don’t you go ahead and close out? I think we can handle it from here.”
The look on his face right now—the downturned, tight-lipped smile and apologetic eyes— I’ve seen it before. Just last week, my boss at the coffee shop gave me the same one when I confused the vanilla and hazelnut syrups for an entire shift. Oops. I was politely “let go” from that job, but I wasn’t too sad about it. I am not a morning person, and mixing me with other fellow caffeine addicts before the sun rises is a recipe for disaster.
“I guess I’m not any better on the other side of the bar,” I joke.
“You’ll get the hang of it,” he reassures me. “And, hey, thanks for your help getting the word out. I haven’t seen this place so busy in years.”
“Welcome.” I untie the little black apron and set it on the tray with the empty cups. “You’ll let me know if you have any nights you need covered next week?”
I like the energy of this place, so I’m hoping that despite my less than stellar bartending skills, he might call me to work again.
“I might have some liquor promotions this week. They’re…” He bobs his head side to side. “More casual. I think you might do well with that. I’ll be in touch once I check the schedule.” Mike reaches over the tray to give my shoulder a squeeze and then gets back behind his bar. As bosses go, he seems like a good one.
My best friend appears by my side. “What’s going on? Did he cut you for the night? Please say no. We’re still packed in here. Where are the shots for table Smart and Handsome?”
I snort a laugh at her nickname for the table of trivia winners. “I dropped the tray.”
She winces and gives me one of thosemaybe this isn’t your thingsmiles that have become routine in my hot mess of a life.
“Sorry,” I say. “I appreciate your putting in a good word for me, but I don’t think Mike will be calling me up to cover another night shift.”
“Don’t even worry about it.” Jade sets her tray on the bar and expertly pours three shots. She’s been working here for two years and makes it look so easy. She blows out a breath that sends her bright red bangs out of her eyes. “This is really a problem of your own making. Your photos on the bar’s social media page brought all of these people here.”
“It was nothing,” I say. Last week I came to the bar to hang out while Jade was working. I had my camera on me and took a few photos of her working trivia night. Mostly, I was just messing around, but Mike loved them, and when they posted all the images, I guess other people did too. It’s a cool bar, so I’m glad people are coming in. A total dive, but cool.
“Whatever. It’s a crazy night to have your first shift. Besides, you were fine out on the floor.”
“Yeah, as long as I didn’t have to carry anything but empties.” The number of beers and mixed drinks I spilled tonight or messed up somehow and had to re-pour is too many to count.
“Are you staying and hanging out at least? I should be off in thirty. Usually, at midnight, it clears out a little.”
“That depends.” I glance up at the TV at the exact moment my ex-boyfriend’s face pops on the screen. Ugh. As if it weren’t stressful enough starting a new job, I’ve had to work all night with excited chatter on the TV for this weekend's Russian Grand Prix and all the highlights from the qualifying sessions. Rhyse is the favorite, which is nothing new. He’s almost always the favorite. “Can we change the channel in here?”
“Sorry. Mike has an ESPN-only rule. Sit at the far end and do not look at him.” Her gaze flicks to the screen. “He does not deserve it.Prick.”
“I’m not sure I should even be in the same vicinity as anything glass or spillable. Every mistake is making me more jittery and klutzy. I might be sending off bad juju just by hanging around.”
“You are stunning and majestic and not klutzy. Well, not usually. Maybe it’s delayed jet lag?”
“More like a crushing blow to my self-esteem,” I mutter, and because I’m obviously a glutton for punishment, I steal another glance at the TV where Rhyse is smiling through an interview in his red racing suit.
“Forget him.” Jade tries to hand me the tray.
“Uh-uh.” I try to back up, but I’m already against the bar.
“Yes,” she insists and edges it forward until the rounded edge hits my chest. “I’m not letting you leave here without going out on a high note. Take these shots to the trivia winners and end the night with your chin up. Rhyse is an idiot. There are a lot of great guys out there. His loss. He’s going to have a ‘come to Scarlett’ moment and run back to you. And when he does, you’re going to have moved on, realized you deserve so much more, and be living your best life.”
“That is a lot of growth.” I laugh lightly, but I cling to her words with hope.
“Yep, and it starts tonight. Take these to the table and then grab a seat at the bar and wait for me.”
