Page 12 of Waiting on Life
I let my mind drift back to my last hookup, Rochelle. She’d been thirty, with dark blonde hair and a biting wit. We met at the bus stop while my car was in the garage. For a week we sat and talked about anything and everything. I asked her to have a meal with me and was surprised when she said yes. We went out, had a nice dinner, and then I took her home. She was great. One night, two months after we’d started seeing each other, we went back to her place after dinner. We sat and talked for a couple hours, until she leaned over and kissed me. She took my hand and led me to her bedroom. We fucked three times that night, and each round was better than the last. We lost touch after she moved to Madison, and I was bereft for a while.
It was then that I noticed something odd. My once-stiff dick had drooped and now hung limply in my hand. I tugged it a few times, fully expecting it would perk up again, but it was deader than a doorknob. It was the exhaustion, I was sure. Instead of stressing over it, I closed my eyes, and after a few minutes, Waldo crawled up onto my pillow, where his purr soothed me and eventually helped me to fall asleep.
The knock on the door startled me. I jolted upright, with Waldo protesting loudly. Another knock. I glanced at the clock and groaned. It was later than it should have been, and I realized I’d forgotten to set the alarm. I snagged the robe and threw it on, then rushed to the door. When I pulled it open, I stood there, shellshocked. The guy in front of me was obviously Kyle, but not the same one from last night. His hair was no longer two different lengths. Instead, it was all cut close to the scalp. His baggy T-shirt was gone and in its place was a crisp, pressed white shirt. Anyone seeing him would think he was a Mormon, the way he stood there, hands folded in front of him.
“What?” I snapped, then regretted it. “Sorry, didn’t sleep well. What are you doing here? It’s only five thirty.”
“You said to come in today so I could fill out the paperwork and get started. I figured now would be a good time, so you can catch me up on anything I need to learn.”
He was eager, that much was obvious. “I meant like ten or so.”
“Early bird, worm, you know.” He grinned. “Besides, I figured I could ride in with you so I know which bus will get me there next time.”
“Come on in,” I said, gesturing to the apartment. “Since you’re early and I’m not ready, you can feed Waldo while I get dressed.”
His gaze slid down my body, but he said nothing. “Sure, no problem.”
Kyle stepped inside, and I hurried to the bedroom to find something to wear. Looking at the state of my closet, I decided I needed to do laundry the next available moment. My basket was overflowing, and I was down to three shirts, no extra pants, and two pairs of socks. I pulled out what I could and tossed them on the bed. Then I made a quick visit to the bathroom, where I took care of business, which was followed by the world’s fasted shave and a brushing of teeth. Once done, I dressed and hustled to the kitchen. Waldo sat there, staring at his empty bowl and mewing pitifully.
“Don’t let him lie to you,” Kyle said. “He ate all his food.”
I bent and rubbed Waldo’s head. “Nice try, kitty.”
He snorted and rushed off to wherever he’d be hiding.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes, sir” came the snappy reply.
I kept telling myself I needed a server, but this had “bad idea” written all over it. I hoped I wouldn’t live to regret it.
Kyle
No Angels was nothing like I’d expected Toby to be working at. When he said the clientele was hard, I figured the place would be a dive. Instead, it was clean and smelled of lemon polish and elbow grease. The brass rail along the bar gleamed in the light, and when I got closer, I could see the edges were made from strips of varied shades of wood that were so glossy, I could see my reflection in it.
“Reclaimed?” I asked Toby, who preened a little.
“Yes. I have a buddy who does construction. He showed me some things he’d made from stuff he salvaged from jobs, and it was impressive. I decided I wanted it for here. The owner was happy because it was cheap. I was happy because it looked amazing.” He shrugged. “The customers are usually too drunk to care.”
The top of the bar? That was way more impressive. Hundreds of bottle caps had been pressed into a black fabric. I couldn’t help but run a hand over it. There was some kind of barrier between my hand and the wood. I cocked my head and peered at Toby.
“Epoxy resin. The bottle caps came from the bar, so it was only about a grand for the whole thing.”
The place was… I hesitated to use the wordkitschy, but that’s how I viewed it. Two pool tables dominated the center of the room, and a few video games stood in the darkened corner. The stools that were around the bar appeared to also be reclaimed wood, with blue leather covering the seats. The lighting was a mishmash of different styles and colors, all with what appeared to be energy-saver bulbs in them.
“Back there is the kitchen. Our menu is light. Mostly things like wings, mozz sticks, onion rings, breaded mushrooms, and the like. When I suggested it, the owner tried to veto the idea, but I persisted. I’m glad he gave in, because we do great business in finger food. There’s a menu at each table, plus fliers on the bar. If you get an order, place it with the bartender, and he hands it over to the cook. When it’s ready, the bartender will put it on the bar and call your name to have it picked up. Now, we don’t serve froufrou drinks here. It’s mostly bottles of beer or mugs of the tap stuff. Don’t let these guys shit you and say they want a blow job or sloe comfortable screw against the wall. We don’t serve it, and while you’re on duty, they don’t get it. Clear?”
“Crystal.”
“I doubt it’ll happen, but if a customer professes an interest, you do it after your shift. I’m going to tell you one hard and fast rule I live by. Don’t shit where you eat. Relationships in the bar can have ugly repercussions, as my bartender recently found out.”
I had no intention of hooking up with anyone, but it was good of Toby to give me the okay to do so if I wanted.
“Let’s go into the office and I’ll give you some paperwork to fill out.”
“Yes, sir.”
Toby winced. “Don’t ever call me ‘sir.’ Toby is fine. If you feel the need to be more formal, find a better choice of words.”
