“Good answer,” a voice suddenly adds. I look over to see a slick-dressed guy in jeans and black shirt walking my way. He has on dark sunglasses and is carrying an iPad in his hand.
“Spiro?”
“The one and only. You’re the friend Mac’s been telling me about?”
“The one and only,” I smirk.
He lifts his sunglasses to reveal amused green eyes. “So, you can talk the talk, but can you walk the walk?”
“If you mean can I run circles around Mac here, the answer is yes.”
“I taught him everything he knows,” Mac chimes in.
“Then I’m definitely in trouble,” Spiro quips. “Look, I’ll give you a shot, a trial run. If I like what I see, you’re in. If not, like Heidi Klum says, you’re out.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.”
“Good, because I’m short a bartender. Now get behind there and let Mac show you the ropes. Doors open in twenty for beat the clock.”
“Cool man.” I put my hand out to shake.
“I’ll be watching.” Spiro takes my hand with a small smile.
Beat the clock is fifty-cent draft beers in six-ounce cups, and every hour until midnight the price increases twenty-five cents. By the time eleven o’clock hits, I have a packed bar and am running around ragged trying to keep up with the demand of the crowd. It’s a thrilling feeling, being behind the bar. Don’t ask me why. Maybe it’s the atmosphere, or the loud music, or the fact that everyone in the room is vying for your attention like you’re the most popular kid in school. Maybe it’s the power. You have the one thing everyone wants. Whatever the reason, it’s fun, and I like it.
“Hey! One and only!” Spiro slams on the bar a few times to get my attention. I look up from the cooler with two bottles of beer in my hand. “You got the job, now scram. You start next Thursday. Have a drink before you go,” he yells over the music, then he’s gone.
Mac smiles over at me as I serve my last two drinks of the night.
I hop over the bar and lean against the edge as Mac hands me a gin and tonic. This day has turned out to be pretty good. I won a few races at the track, made some good tips, and just landed an awesome summer job.
Life can’t get much better.
At least that’s what I think right before I catch a glimpse of thick blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. I pause with my drink an inch away from my lips.
My gaze rakes over her long, lean body as she stands at the bar clearly annoyed at her friend. She has a cigarette in one hand and a lighter in another. I can’t seem to do anything but stand there and gawk like a love-struck fool. Then she turns, and as her body shifts, one of the strobe lights hits her face at just the right angle, illuminating the reddish-brown color of her irises and the shiny pink of her cheeks. For a fleeting second her eyes meet mine, and it’s like a TKO.
My entire existence comes to a screeching halt. The feeling in my fingers, the thoughts in my head, the blood in my veins, they all evaporate. Before I can recover, she’s gone.
“Ryan?” Mac’s voice summons me from my daze. “Ryan!”
“Did you see that girl?” I ask automatically.
“Which one?”
“The blonde?”
“With the short hair? Yeah, she was cute.”
“No, her friend.” I look at him intensely. “Give me a cigarette.”
“You don’t smoke.”
“I do tonight. Give me one. I know you keep a spare pack behind the bar to sell to your customers.”
Mac grimaces then reaches down and pulls out a pack of Parliaments. “You want a light?”
“No,” I refuse and take off in the direction of the outside patio. I squeeze and shove through the crowd, desperate for just one more look at her. And just as I get to the open glass sliders, I see her. Her head is bent downward as she lights her cigarette. Her pale blonde hair flipping in the mild summer wind. I’m helpless as I stand there staring, drinking her in from head to toe. She dressed in little black shorts with a flowing pink top that drops in a low V neckline. Her legs are tan, smooth, and silky, and I stop myself from imagining what it would feel like to run my hands all over them.