Serve Me

I was totally screwed.

Just as the bartender set my drink down in front of me I noticed a girl at the end of the bar setting up a laptop. She pushed her glasses up on her nose and began typing furiously, she was pretty but not in a way that I usually was interested in.

She looked smart, it wasn't that I didn't like smart girls, but that wasn't what I was looking for. No brilliant girl who brought a laptop computer to the bar was going to be my fiancé. That would never happen. She would never agree to it.

I nursed my whiskey and continued to scroll through my phone to see if there was anyone I had missed. Any other calls I could make. But as the afternoon turned into evening and the bar got more popular I realized I had downed three whiskeys and made no phone calls. Occasionally I would sneak a glance at the girl at the end of the bar, but she seemed to be only drinking beer and typing away. I found myself wondering what she was working on.

Suddenly she slammed her hands down on the bar and made me and four other guys have to grab our drinks so they didn’t escape the ledge.

“God dammit!”

She got off the barstool and began searching underneath the bar for an outlet. Apparently, her laptop had died. The other guys at the bar started murmuring about her wondering if something was wrong with her. I didn't know if there was something wrong with her or not but clearly, she wasn't having a good day.

“What's the girl at the end of the bar drinking?”

The bartender held up a bottle of some hard cider. A total girly drink. “Great put on my tab.” He cracked open the bottle and passed it to me. I grabbed my whiskey and sauntered past the mumbling men and set it next to her laptop.

“You look like you could use a drink.” Then I survey the three empty bottles in front of her. “Another drink,” I remedied.

She looked up at me from her spot on the floor and pushed her glasses up on her nose. “You're buying me a drink?”

“Actually I think I already bought you a drink. You just have to accept it.”

I set my drink down on the bar and offered her hand. She grasped it gently and stood up staring right into my eyes. Reflected back at me was a girl I hardly understood. Perfectly green pools with golden flex swimming around in them. Her skin was pale like she wasn't out in the sun very often and she had a bridge of freckles that went just across her nose. She was adorable. With a cute little body to match. Perfectly pouty lips and breasts that were just a little too full for the top that she was wearing. My eyes continued down to a black pencil skirt and matching black pumps. In between, she had perfectly sculpted legs. I thought she wasn't my type.

I was wrong.

“Thank you. It's been kind of a shit day.”

She hopped back up on the barstool and took a long swig from the bottle. I perched on the stool next to her my body still facing hers. “Tell me about it.”

“I was fired this morning. I got fired and I have been spending all day looking for new coding jobs and I can't find any! Which is total bul

lshit because I'm in a major metropolitan area. That was the whole reason I moved here so that I would never have to worry about a job again. But here I am looking for a job in a bar no less. And now I'm telling my entire life story to a complete stranger. I’m Addison by the way.” She stuck out her hand and I shook it, smiling at her my most charming way.

“I'm Cole. Nice to meet you Addison, sorry about the job.”

“Yeah me too. And now I am three beers in and I just feel like I need to burn off some steam. I'm in heels, not really ideal running footwear. And I don't feel like I can go home because my sister is going to have that “I told you so” face. And she'll be totally right. I can't believe I let the security software get hacked! That was my whole job. I only had one job! And I ruined it.”

She took another swig from a bottle and chewed on her lower lip as her eyes grew wide like she suddenly realized I was sitting there hanging on every word. “Why the hell have you been in a bar most of the day? You don't look like the unemployed type.”

“Yeah. And what type do I look like?”

“Well, you have some type of military tattoo creeping out from underneath that tight shirt of yours. So I'm guessing your ex-military?”

I nodded. “I spent some time in the army. And I actually do have a job, thinks my uncle.”

“You think you can get me a job too?”

I laughed. “Unless you want to be cleaning bedpans, I doubt it. Because I'm pretty sure that's all I'm going to be going.”

Sure he said I was going to be donating my time at the Children's Hospital but he made it very clear that he could give me any job he wanted. Just because I was an MD didn't mean I was going to get some great position. Besides they may not even like my background, starting as a medic in the military wasn't as glamorous as people made it out to be. Amputating legs in the field when a bomb went off? Doesn't look so good on your resume.

“Bedpans huh? You were a medic then. Good for you! We need more people saving lives in this world.”

She was so brutally honest, there was no façade with her whatsoever. I found it refreshing, and intoxicating.

“So Addison, if you don't want to go home, where are you going to go?”