“And you’re going to throw that away because you don’t want to stop hanging out with me every night?” I refilled his glass again and put it in front of him.
“You gave me a key, she took mine away. Maybe this is where I belong.” He tilted the second glass back and emptied it into his throat.
“Man, I just didn’t want you to hurt someone on your way to your next DUI.” I groaned and leaned against the bar. “I didn’t want you to move in.”
“The floor is comfortable. I’ve landed on it enough to give an expert opinion.” Charlie chuckled as he waited for his third shot.
Charlie was a regular at Hal’s Pub, which still bore my father’s name even though he had been dead ten years. Charlie was almost as old as the pub itself. When he got enough liquor in him and a big enough audience, he liked to proudly tell people he was the first paying customer my father ever had. I didn’t know if that was true, but my father never corrected him if it wasn’t. There was a time when I felt bad about enabling alcoholics like Charlie to keep throwing their lives away, but they were going to drink somewhere.
I started a pot of coffee and sipped it as more regulars came in. I didn’t see many new faces at the pub. It was usually the same crowd—South Side locals who wanted somewhere to throw back drinks with some of their own. I was their enabler, sounding board, psychiatrist, and sometimes their friend. I loved my job, even if the pub wasn’t very profitable. I usually ended the night with more money on open tabs than cash in my drawer, but that was how my father ran things, and I couldn’t exactly mess with tradition. I served drinks until shortly after noon when a cute redhead with long legs walked up to the bar.
“Hello, gorgeous.” I poured a beer and put it down in front of her.
“I told you to stop calling me that.” She narrowed her eyes and took a sip of the beer. “I’m not going home with you again, no matter how much you try to charm me.”
“Fine—Olivia. I’ve waited out more than one boyfriend.” I chuckled and shrugged. “You always come back to me when you get your heart broken.”
“Yeah, because I need a fucking drink!” Olivia grumbled under her breath and sipped the beer again.
“And sometimes you need more.” I winked and started pouring a drink for a customer on the opposite end of the bar.
“Yeah, like an actual date instead of a quick fuck.” She shook her head and grumbled again.
“I don’t date, gorgeous. You knew what you were getting into from the beginning.” I walked the drink to the customer on the opposite end of the bar and returned to Olivia.
“If you want to do more than get your dick wet, you should try it. You might actually get a girlfriend instead of banging everything with tits that falls for your charm.” Olivia leaned back and folded her arms across her chest.
“Meh.” I shrugged. “I’m too busy for a girlfriend.”
That was always my excuse, but that was exactly what it was- an excuse.. I tried the dating thing once, and almost got married, but then my father died. I had to come back to Chicago to take care of his estate and while I was gone, my fiancée got cold feet. That hurt lingered for a while and I wasn’t eager to put myself in that kind of vulnerable position again. Instead, I just stayed in Chicago and ran my father’s pub. It wasn’t the life I dreamed of, nor was it the one he wanted for me when he saved up enough money to send me to college, but it was comfortable. There were plenty of bartenders with college degrees, so I just skipped the formalities.
“Can I get another whiskey?” Charlie lifted his glass and tapped it with his fingernail.
“If you’re going to drink until you pass out, could you at least move to one of the tables in the corner?” I poured him another glass and sat it down.
“What? No way, Joaquin. This is my stool.” Charlie looked at me like I had just told him to jump off a bridge. “You can serve drinks around me. It wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Can I get a gin and tonic, please?” A woman’s voice called out for a drink, and when I turned towards her, my jaw practically fell open.
Holy shit. She’s not a regular.
“Yeah, give me a second. I don’t get many requests for mixed drinks around here.” I picked up a bottle of gin and flipped it in my hand. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
“Angelina.” She smiled and tilted her head. “But that line isn’t going to work on me either, Joaquin.”
“You know my name?” I narrowed my eyes and tried to figure out if she was someone I had simply forgotten as I fixed her drink.
“I know a lot about you.” She nodded and took the glass when I walked over. “I knew your father once upon a time.”
“Well, that sounds interesting.” I leaned against the bar. “I don’t know anything about you—why don’t you tell me your life story over a few drinks?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” She raised an eyebrow.
“No.” I chuckled and shook my head. “You can tell me your life story sitting right there.”
“Oh, I’m not that interesting.” She waved me off and I spotted a ring on her left hand.
“Ah, you’re married.” I nodded and took a step back. “Sorry—I didn’t know.”