The way Arnold handled things was to organize catering or serving events, then blast out an email of the week’s openings every Sunday morning. Premiere call was his phrase for the four or five servers who were able to cherry-pick shifts in advance on Saturday, before the other forty servers had any clue of the coming work opportunities.
This meant better shift opportunities, and as much work as I could possibly want. It was a distinction for only the most veteran or competent servers, neither of which I thought were particularly applicable in my case.
“I… thank you, sir. I appreciate this.”
“Keep up the good work,” he nodded kindly. “Anyway, that’s all. You’re dismissed.”
With a quick, respectful nod, I excused myself from his presence. What a weird turn, I thought to myself. But it wasn’t all that surprising that he’d taken that attitude. Arnold could be a huge stickler for presentation and rules, but he took care of his crew, and he didn’t tolerate mistreatment of his staff.
Still, this freed me up for another hour, and I decided to celebrate the occasion. While walking to my car, I thought of the bar just down the street. I’d been a few times and liked it, even if they had the occasional shitty bartender.
With a small grin on my face, I quickly changed into a shirt and hoodie I’d brought along. Figuring the parking was going to be awful, I left for the time being, strolling casually towards the bar with a bounce in my step.
I had no idea that destiny awaited.
Chapter 3
After ditching the banquet once the food was done, some of my Marine buddies briefly considered strolling to the nearby bar for an after-party. When they all pussied out, I decided to go on without them, prowling around and scoping out the women. I hadn’t been to the local spots in this part of town before, so I was paying closer attention to the details than my usual approach.
That was how I spotted her.
It was after my third or fourth round of pool that I noticed Clara stood at the bar, dispassionately pushing strands of her hair back behind her ear. Although she had traded in her waistcoat and bowtie for a jacket and graphic tee, it was still unmistakably her.
The world smiles down on me, I thought to myself quietly as I casually sauntered that way. There was an open chair beside her, and I was determined to make use of it. So much so that I glared down some greasy snake of a guy who was just placing his hand on the back, eager to sit down beside the little vixen.
Not today, motherfucker, my eyes subtly communicated. Without a word between us, he got the message and backed off, off to chase other tail.
“Lousy service, huh?” I asked Clara, leaning against the counter beside her.
When she glanced up at me, her beautiful eyes were filled with surprise. That didn’t last long, as they quickly turned defensive.
“Little bit,” she replied coolly.
I nodded towards the bar. “What are you having? It’s on me.”
“I’m a big girl. I can order for myself.”
“I don’t doubt it,” I shrugged apathetically. “Just being friendly.”
“Just like earlier, right?” she muttered, rolling her eyes. When she turned back, she narrowed them, smiling sweetly at me. “Why don’t you go be friendly somewhere else?”
I smiled inwardly. The game is on.
“Prickly little firecracker, aren’t you?” I chuckled. “Sorry to say, I happen to like my women on the sharp side. I thought you could handle it.”
“Is that so.” Clara glanced over towards the bartender again, growing visibly frustrated. When he clearly wasn’t noticing her, she started looking around – choosing an escape route.
“Your name was Clara, right?”
The server sighed. “So you can remember nametags, but you can’t pick up obvious social cues. Why don’t you get lost? I’m way too tired to deal with your shit right now.”
“My shit, love?”
“Don’t call me love. I’m not your love.”
“It’s an English thing, love,” I grinned cockily. “Can’t help it. You have your Sir and your Madam, and I have my guv’nah and my love.”
Clara gave an exasperated sigh. “This is just my night. One long, miserable banquet, I get some good news and I get to leave early… and now I’ve got this walking fucking stereotype, pulling from the shittiest book of pick-up lines in print…”
I made eye contact with the bartender, flashing him a look with my eyes. Between that and realizing the girl beside me had been here for possibly ages, he immediately flew over.
“Whiskey neat, Jameson,” I commanded. “And for the lady… long island iced tea.”
“Coming right up.”
Clara glanced up at me with mild amusement. “How’d you know I liked long island iced teas?”
“Lucky guess,” I chuckled, withdrawing my credit card. I handed it to the bartender between two fingers, keeping my eyes on Clara.
“And your ID, miss?”
He took it, briefly scanning the card with his eyes before returning it to her.
“Open tab?”
“Of course.”
As soon as he was out of earshot, I chuckled and shook my head at her. “He’s a terrible bartender. That’s the fakest card I’ve seen in a while.”
“Excuse me?” Clara muttered.
“Your ID card, it’s a fake. You’re definitely not twenty-one years old. Hell, I don’t honestly think you’re a day over nineteen.”
“Flattering, but no, the card’s real.”
I reached out the same two fingers, wiggling them briefly. “Show me.”
With a disgruntled sigh, Clara handed me her ID card. Of course, I didn’t really think it was a forgery. I just wanted more information on her. She was distracted, so I figured I could get away with the request.
Clara Renee Campbell, I observed, pretending to fiddle with the edges of the card as I scanned her identification. I checked out her address, noting that it probably wasn’t more than maybe ten minutes from my rental house. Convenient…
As I handed her the card back, my thumb slid along the stony glare of her photo, and I smiled with validation. Well, what do you know…?
“You’ve got a corner of this card slightly peeling up, and there’s a subtle laser engraving on your name at the top,” I chuckled. “I’ll be damned, it actually is a fake!”
“Say it a little louder for the people in the back, why don’t you?” Clara snarled as she slipped it int
o her pocket.
She opened her mouth to follow that up, but the bartender returned with our drinks. We gratefully accepted them, turning to regard each other carefully.
“Cheers,” I grinned cheekily, clinking the lip of my tumbler to that of her highball glass. It had been a bold move, but it usually worked… and I was surprised to actually sniff out a fakery. Ballsy girl, I thought to myself.
“Cheers,” Clara disdainfully replied, watching me coolly as she took a large sip from the straw. It was clear that she was attempting to sum me up.
“Why don’t we get a table?” I asked, motioning towards the various high-tops. “I’d like a little more room, honestly.”
“I’m actually waiting on somebody,” Clara chirped up. “Boyfriend’ll be here any minute.”
“Boyfriend,” I nodded thoughtfully.
“That’s right. Big guy. Bigger than you.”
“Is that so? Is he a former Marine, too?”
“Oh yeah, definitely,” Clara smiled. “He’s way more handsome too. Doesn’t need to try and win me over with cheesy pick-up lines or anything.”
I grinned playfully, taking another sip of my iced whiskey. “Hey, I almost take personal offense to that one, love.”
“I told you not to call me that.”
“And I told you that it’s a cultural thing,” I reminded her. “It’s just how we greet beautiful women. Part of the deal.”
“You’re starting to lay it on thick.”
I began to retort, but it turned out that she was half telling the truth. A moment later, another young lady about Clara’s age strolled up to us, brushing long blond bangs back to expose expensive gold earrings.
“Hiya, Clara. Who’s this guy?”
Oh good, here comes the cavalry.
“Just some guy from the Marines’ banquet I had to work tonight. He’s kind of a total misogynist jackass. Where’ve you been, Nat?”
“Sorry, girl! I was tied up with Jared for a hot minute there!” She smiled unabashedly, leaving zero subtly in the implication. Her smile faded as she turned to me. “You can go ahead and leave, though. I’ll take it from here.”