Her job was way more important, she reminded herself. If she spilled the beer, she might have to pay for them, and she needed every dime she was earning. Stella was graciously letting her work Thursdays through Sundays, which were the busiest nights.
And she was grateful. So far, her tips had been decent, and Dodge paid her cash after her shift every night once they closed. She’d been squirreling it away in a shoe box at her sister’s house. Every night when she added to it, she counted every dollar all over again. To see that pile grow, even a little, was satisfying. It made her feel not so hopeless.
From now on, she would be in charge of her and Daisy’s destiny. Not anyone else.
Filing for divorce a year ago, getting out of Rochester recently and now getting this job were her first steps toward that. It might be a slow process, but at least she was moving forward.
Just like her feet were doing, as she entered the half-walled area off the main floor, where the pool tables were kept. Even on a Sunday, both were occupied, and quarters lined the rails as people waited their turn to play.
Dodge told her the pool and dart league nights during the week were also lucrative nights to work and maybe Stella would eventually adjust her schedule to include them. Cassie hoped so.
So far everyone had been friendly. For the most part. If any of the men got too friendly or handsy, all she had to do was whisper something to Dodge in passing and he’d have a “discussion” with whomever it was. Usually it was a very “serious” chat with a lot of quick head nodding on the listener’s part.
And usually, the next time Cassie had to serve that table, the occupants were much more respectful.
When things slowed down later in the evening, Dodge—or Stella, if she was still around—would teach her how to work behind the bar. How to pour a draft without a lot of head. How to mix drinks without over pouring. And how to use the old, worn bartender’s bible kept behind the bar. Not too many people asked for mixed drinks other than some liquor mixed with soda, like a simple rum and Coke. And those she could handle easily.
Stella told her to get to know the regulars, learn their names, learn a little about their lives and talk to them as if they were friends. That would help get her bigger tips.
And it did.
Even when her feet ached, she kept a smile on her face and kept the conversation flowing. She didn’t have a problem with small talk, as she had to do it often with her previous job.
While being a “bar maid” was different than being a vet tech, it was also somewhat fun and staying busy kept her mind occupied.
Better yet, she was making cash money.
However, right now her mind was focused on Judge. She, out of the corner of her eye, tracked him heading to the bar and settling his big body on an empty stool.
Cassie put the beers down on a small high table in the pool room, grabbed the cash, and tucked it into the little server apron she wore to keep her tips and make change. Dodge had grinned and shook his head when she showed up with it on Saturday night, but it helped her be better at her job. She also kept a small notepad in one of the pockets in case she got a large order. She didn’t want to rely on her memory, screw up the order and then lose out on a decent tip.
So, Dodge could tease her all he wanted, but she didn’t care.
She picked up a few empties near the pool tables, and as she headed back to the bar, she stopped at a table, asked if she could get the two occupants fresh beers and then moved behind the bar, setting the dirty glasses into the sink and tossing the empty bottles into the recycle bin.
She ignored the giant of a man, whose eyes had followed her once she had hit the corner of the bar. He was watching her as he talked to Dodge, who was standing in front of him and serving him a full pint glass.
Cassie didn’t like when Dodge’s gaze slid toward her as Judge continued to talk. When it slid back to Judge, he wore a grin.
No, she didn’t like that at all.
She sighed and, as she filled two more beer glasses at the taps, Dodge sidled up to her. “Wants you to serve him.”
Cassie kept her eyes focused on the rising beer. “Why?”
“Why does any man wanna talk to a woman?”
“I’m not interested.” She closed the tap and waited for the beer to settle as she added them to the customer’s tab in the register, feeling Judge’s eyes on her the whole time.