Grace for Drowning

I shrugged. "Kind of."

"Well, it's like that. An ongoing mixed martial arts league. It's not nearly as big as UFC, or Pride, or any of the heavy hitters, but it's gradually making a name for itself around Vegas. In fact, these days, I'm starting to think the bar might be the side project."

I blinked a few times, struggling to process this new info. I wasn't exactly one for sports, and I wasn't quite sure I was in a place where I wanted to start learning. "So, what, two guys go in and beat the crap out of each other until there's only one standing?"

She tilted her head from side to side. "Kind of. There's rules, but that's the general gist."

"Sounds charming."

She laughed. "I felt the same way when I started here, but it's not that bad. It's kind of exciting, to be honest. Plus, the bodies on some of these guys," she made an elaborate sign of the cross, "sweet Jesus."

I tried to share her conspiratorial smile, but the truth was, ogling guys was about the last thing I wanted to be doing right now.

"So how often do the fights run?" I asked, trying to steer the conversation into safer waters.

"It varies, but about once a month."

"And we work them?"

"Yep. They tend to be pretty crazy nights, so you've gotta keep your wits about you, but the tips are more than worth it. You can make a week's worth in a single night if you're on your game."

"Now that I can get behind."

I followed Joy into a storage room that sat nestled under the bleachers. She rummaged in a box for a few moments, and came up holding a black T-shirt with 'Charlie's' printed across the front.

"Try this," she said, handing it to me and turning her back. "So what brings you to Charlie's, anyway? The boss just said you were a friend of a friend looking for work."

"That's pretty much the sum of it." In truth, that was only the tiniest fraction of the story, but I wasn't about to bare my soul to someone I'd just met. Those tears were mine and mine alone. "Things at my last job didn't work out, so now I'm here." I slipped the new shirt over my head. "Seems to fit."

Joy spun back toward me and smiled wickedly. "Perfect. Now you're one of us."

"Should I be afraid?" I asked.

"Probably," she said, in a mock serious voice, "but it won't help you now."

I laughed. It felt good. God, how long had it been since I'd laughed?

"Charlie will be in later," Joy continued. "When it's quiet it's usually just a few of us and Rafi in the kitchen. You'll be behind the bar with me for the first week, so if you've got any questions, I'm just a shoulder tap away."

"Great."

"Come and I'll show you where we keep everything."

And so my new life began. It didn't feel like much yet, but it was a start.

*****

The first two hours were a blur of information. Charlie's wasn't just some hole-in-the-wall bar with a house red and Bud on tap. They had ten draught beers available and a wine list that would have impressed several of the sommeliers from my past life. Then there were the cocktails.

"Ah, Sludge. An old bar favorite," Joy said with a grin, eyeing the toxic looking monstrosity I'd just poured from a shaker. I had no idea what I'd done wrong. All the ingredients had been such pretty colors, but through some strange alchemy, when I'd shaken them together they just came out looking like runny mud. I can spend an entire day making a perfect seven texture chocolate cake, but I can't even mix three liquids together to make something called a Bumble Bee. Awesome.

Joy laughed at my expression. "Don't worry, I'll take you through them all after the shift if you like, show you the ropes. It's not that tough."

"Are you sure? I don't want to take up your time."

"It's fine. It'll give us a chance to get to know one another."

I nodded, although I felt something tighten in my chest. I appreciated the effort she was making, but I didn't know if a friend was what I needed right now. Making friends meant answering questions, and that wasn't something I could easily do right now.