why I deal with his inflated ego. He’s also my twenty-three-year-old cousin who’s still waiting for his big break to rock stardom, hence the bartending gig. “So you can serenade her with songs you’ve written professing your undying love?”
“Women eat that shit up.”
“Too bad you can’t date her since you work with her.” It’s more of a reminder than anything.
“Why are you always such a buzzkill? This is a bar, not some office.”
“Why are you always such a fuckboy?”
He smirks. “I’m surprised you even know what that means, old man.”
“I’m thirty, not collecting my pension.”
“Whatever. I’m in my sexual prime and I plan to capitalize on that for as long as my dick will allow.”
“Just not with any of the women who work here and preferably not the patrons, either.”
He rolls his eyes. “What’s the point of being a bartender if I can’t use it to get laid?”
It’s my turn to give him a look. “Okay, first of all, think about what you’re saying, Lars. Do you really want to entice drunk, not fully coherent women into your bed? Consider the potential ramifications of that. Carefully.”
His entire face scrunches up. “When you put it that way…”
“Consent is best sought when sober.” I’m aware that I am, in fact, being a huge buzzkill—but for good reason. Serving alcohol is a big responsibility, especially in an establishment that has been in my family for years. I’m all for having fun…within reason. And twenty-one-year-olds aren’t known for high-level thinking skills when they’re under the influence.
If Lars and Lana end up dating, there’s really not much I can do about it, but by telling them a no-dating-coworkers-and-customers policy exists, I figure I’m at least putting the fear of unemployment into them. Although, I will say that as much of a player as Lars presents himself to be, he doesn’t like to disappoint people. So I’m banking on that to keep him in line.
I rap on the bar top. “Anyway, back to live bands. Won’t we need sound equipment for that?”
“Yeah, but I have two sets at home, so I can bring one to keep here if you want. Most bands have their own equipment, but they’re not all created equal.” He smirks. “Plus, we can host a karaoke night. Everyone thinks they’re a singer when they’re drunk.”
“Hell yes, they do,” I agree. And I can just imagine Alice in Wonderland throwing an epic fit over it.
“Look at how excited you are.” Lars mirrors what I’m assuming is my wide smile. “You win this thing and you definitely better credit me with some of the ideas, man.”
“It’s a long shot. Literally hundreds of bars have been nominated.”
“Yeah, but this one has history and a great story. I vote we start posting about our grandparents. Tori Taylor ships pretty much every famous couple out there.”
I frown, feeling like I’m missing something. “Ships what?”
“She’s always posting about couple goals. Anyways, it’s something else we can post about if we need to, you know, to pull in the lady crowd.”
“Right, yeah.” I don’t want to have to worry about things like couple goals and romance. I just want laid-back and easygoing. A nice chilled-out environment where people come and drink pints and enjoy conversation or sports or whatever, as opposed to my uptight neighbor and her perfect prissy cupcakes and fruity drinks. “I’ll get some graphics made so we can start promoting the live band. You think this Saturday will work for you?”
“Yeah man, I can get the guys together for Saturday.”
“And you’ll be ready to perform?”
The bell over the door chimes, and a group of women who look to be in their early twenties walk in.
“I was born ready.” Lars winks and turns to the group of women. “Evening, ladies. Looking thirsty.”
I shake my head and leave him to his flirting. It’s after seven and I have yet to make a stop next door for my daily dose of sweet and sour. My neighbor might be an annoying pain in the ass, but those cupcakes are addictive. I’m starting to wonder if they’re laced with something.
I stop by every night before closing—she shuts down around nine, but stays open later on Friday and Saturday. It has to make for insanely long days for her. But her hours aren’t my problem. Besides, I pull long days, too.
I nab a coupon from behind the bar. “I’ll be back in a few,” I call out as I pass Lars chatting up the group of women who now span the four