Her Dirty Bartenders (Men at Work #5) - Mika Lane Page 0,12
I’m the person whose car you fucked up. Thanks to you, my trip to LA has been put on hold, and I now have to work in Denver for god knows how long so I can pay for its repair.” Her voice was growing progressively louder. “Because you won’t take responsibility for what you did.”
She slammed her hand on the bar, apparently not done. “I can’t believe you’re a friend of Marni’s. How is such a nice person friends with a crook like you?”
I held my hands up. “Hey, hey, hey. You need to settle down.”
“What?” she spat. “Settle down? Why? Because you’re mister cool club guy and can fuck over anyone you want?”
That’s not really how it was, but I had a feeling it wasn’t the best time to try and explain that.
“Okay, look. What’s your name?” I asked.
She was way more beautiful than I’d realized that dark night.
“Don’t you know my name? It was all over the driver’s license I had to share with you, Robbins.”
“I don’t go by Robbins. I go by Robbie. And you must be Estella.”
“Stell. The name is Stell. Tell me, where do you get off fucking someone over like this—”
I held my hands up. “Wait. Listen to me for one minute. The club is about to get busy. Do you want to work, or do you want to lecture me all night?”
I hoped she’d stick around, no matter how disagreeable she was. I needed the help.
She pressed her lips together and scanned the room. The club was starting to fill up, and I needed her to either get to work, or hit the road.
“Stell, can we call a truce and get to work? I promise we can hammer this out later tonight.”
Her bottom lip quivered.
And I felt like a dick.
“Fine. We can just stay out of each other’s way,” she snapped.
Sounded like Marni hadn’t told Stell what a barback was. Either that, or she didn’t know. Because Stell didn’t, either.
“Well now, that won’t exactly work. You and I will be working pretty closely together tonight.”
She rolled her eyes. “Great. Just great. But let’s get this show on the road. I’m ready to start. So I can pay for the car you so cavalierly wrecked.”
Was I going to hear of nothing else the entire night?
“Okay. Let’s get started. First, come back here behind the bar. I’ll show you what you need to do.”
She scrunched her face. “Behind the bar? I thought I was waiting tables.”
Uh oh.
“I guess Marni didn’t tell you we needed a barback. Not a waitress.”
She nodded. “Yeah. That’s what she told me.”
“So… I guess you don’t know what a barback is,” I said, grimacing.
She threw her hands up in the air. She was a feisty one.
Her eyebrows rose and she put her hands on her hips. “Are you going to tell me? Or should we pass the night playing guessing games?”
She hustled down to the end of the bar and I lifted the hinged counter to let her in. And holy shit, if she wasn’t wearing some nice duds.
Rule number one of barbacks. Do not wear nice clothing.
I handed her an apron. “You’d better cover up that pretty blouse. You’re going to get dirty tonight.”
Now that she was standing right in front of me, I had to admit I couldn't look away from her bewitching brown eyes. And I was usually a blue eye kind of guy.
“Go ahead. Put it on.”
She took it gingerly from me, as if it were contaminated.
“All right. A barback is basically a busboy, just for the bartender. You will be fetching buckets of ice, replenishing the coolers of beer when we run low, running glassware through the dishwasher, and just generally making sure the bar is clean. Here’s a towel for you. I normally tuck them into my—”
She shook her head in disbelief. “Are you serious? That’s what I’m going to be doing tonight?”
I was running out of time—and patience—to keep arguing. “Do you want this job or not? Because if you can’t handle it, you need to leave now.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
I took a deep breath. “Okay. I need you to start cutting fruit. We need about a dozen lemons, limes, and oranges. They’re right over here,” I said, leading her to a clear spot next to the cash register where a giant bin of fruit waited.
I hesitated before giving her a knife, that’s how fucking bent out of shape she was. But I did, against my better judgment.
She snatched it out of my