“Basically,” she smirks. “But you also said you’d prefer to work at night so you can go to auditions during the day. This works better for that.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem,” she says. “Just don’t suck, okay?”
“I’ll do my best not to.” I hand the papers back to her.
She flips through them to make sure that I didn’t miss anything. “Don’t take any more tables, and when you’re done, go see Joan. She’ll get you started with training so you’re not completely drowning tomorrow.”
“Will do.”
“Oh, and Peter,” she says as I stand and head for the door, “welcome to L.A.”
“Thanks,” I give her the kind of smile she hopes to see from me as a bartender and she laughs.
I wasn’t expecting this, but it’s great. This will work out way better for me and my schedule, and I think bartending will be fun. You’re still serving, but there’s less of a sense of obligation. I won’t be groveling for tips the way you have to when waiting on a single table. It’s better because people come to you, tell you what they want, and for the most part, that’s the end of the transaction.
This isn’t the kind of place they show in movies where the hero or heroine who’s down on their luck comes in to spill their problems to the understanding bartender. No, this is an upscale place where the rich and sometimes the famous come to mingle. No one would dare shed a tear at the bar for fear that someone else would see and it would get around.
This is going to be perfect.
I finish all my tables and head to the back, where I know Joan is doing her monthly inventory of bar supplies and deciding what to order. She’s classically pretty, tall with dark hair, and a vintage smile that makes drinks taste better and wallets open. She waves me toward her when she hears the door open. “So you’re the newbie.”
“Seems like I am.”
“Well, sit,” she says, tossing a clipboard to me. “It’s easier to do this with two people when I can just say things and you write them down instead of me having to do both. Hell of a lot faster too.”
“Okay.”
And that’s it for a while. I follow the pattern she’s used on the form and write down what she tells me, and it’s only a half-hour before the inventory is done completely. “When’s your first shift with me?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Good. Go home and google the basic drinks and memorize the recipes. Come in early and I’ll test you on some of them and make corrections. Trust me, neither you or I have the time to just stand together while I spit out recipes that are on the internet. And you’re an actor. I’m sure that memorizing shit doesn’t take that much time for you.”
I laugh. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am. And don’t wear what you’re wearing, wear something sexier.”
“You have something in mind?”
She rolls her eyes but she smiles. “No. I’m not going to pick out your clothes for you, newbie. Just try something that fits the dress code and do some testing. Keep wearing what gets you tips, and don’t be squeamish about it.”
“Squeamish?” I hand her the clipboard so she can check my work.
“High and mighty. Prudish. Too good for it.”
I internally pause, but I just say. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Grabbing my stuff from my locker, I head out to my car. I can see what she means, I can imagine a lot of people new to L.A. would be a bit nervous about so blatantly being asked to use their body like that. It’s been less than an hour and I’ve basically been told twice that I need to be sexy in order to get people to pay me more. I can’t imagine what kind of stuff gets said to female service workers.
I wonder what Amber would do—
I close off the thought as soon as I have it. I’m here, and we’re not together. I need to stop pretending that we are. Even if this was our dream, it can’t be anymore. Now it’s just my dream.
Driving across town, I roll down my windows and feel the warm breeze coming off the Pacific. This sure beats the cold of the east coast any day. Hands down. It’s like coming here after so long, finally I feel like I belong somewhere. The city sings to me in a way that no other place has, and I love it. There’s a relief to being here, an easing of tension that I never noticed I held.
Even as I flop onto my mattress that doesn’t have a bed frame and is surrounded by boxes, I’m smiling. I finally made it.
14
Peter
Present
I get into my own cab and pull out my phone, and I text Amber the code to my door so she’s not standing on the steps of my house until I get there. But the whole ride, I can’t seem to sit still. My leg is bouncing up and down, and even the driver seems to notice how fidgety I am. He keeps glancing back at me in the mirror.