ships passing in the night

Chapter 6: All The Right Cocktails

"Sex is an emotion in motion."

– Mae West

//

She's a natural.

Throughout the night, Kellan snuck glimpses at Jinny as she concocted drink after drink, flitted from table to table, and served up dish after dish. Sure, she had perhaps messed up an order or two, but she seemed to move seamlessly, efficiently, as though it was her hundredth day on the job. She internalized all his instructions within seconds, and advanced to her next tasks without having to be told twice. She dealt with all the drunk, problematic clients with a smile and most importantly, great strategy, almost effortless in dodging their grimy hands and only pulling out the option of a free drink at the most necessary moment. She knew her purpose and did not stray from it.

Kellan felt a strange sensation slowly drifting through him. A anxious, floaty sensation. It kept him on his toes. It made him miss a few orders, mix the wrong cocktails, and send servers to the wrong tables. He checked on her more than he needed to, and found himself resisting the urge to start unnecessary conversation. Simply put, he couldn't focus.

"Kellan?" He barely even noticed that she was back at the counter. "Table 8 needs another Mojito. Also, there hasn't been any non-alcoholic drink orders for a while now, so I can just help with whatever delivering you need."

Kellan blinked. "Oh, okay," he replied, displaced from his thoughts. Distractedly, he began mixing the cocktail.

His gaze drifted over Jinny, who just seemed to glow amid the dimmed bar. She was petite, but strikingly beautiful in her short sleeved, lacy white dress. In the afternoon, she had kept herself mostly covered under her now-discarded cardigan, but at this point Kellan felt like he wanted to throw his jacket over the barely-there straps on her porcelain shoulders. He had seen the heads turn left, right and center when she approached the tables with an all-too-bright smile on her face, and he was starting to feel pretty damn glad she was only an employee for a day.

"Am I doing alright?" Jinny asked, leaning over the bar counter.

"Too well," Kellan smiled. "You're almost a professional."

"You and your glib tongue. Don't think I'll buy your flattery every time," she laughed, swatting at him playfully. "Really though, am I helping? Or have I been relentlessly fucking up?"

Kellan emitted a small chuckle and tapped the bottom of her chin. "You're doing fine, and if you're tired you can stop anytime," he told her reassuringly.

"Don't tell your other employees that or you'll be out of business," she smiled.

He tipped the contents of his cocktail shaker into a glass. "Mojito for Table 8."

Jinny gave him a flirtatious little salute. "Yes, boss!"

He fought to keep himself from smiling stupidly as she sauntered away to Table 8, Mojito in one hand and utensils in the other. God, he felt like such a simpy piece of shit.

//

"–you should at least have the decency to tell me, you womanizing asshole!"

Jinny whirled around to briefly catch the sight of a woman hurling a cocktail straight at a man's face. All the tables in the vicinity watched with gaping jaws as the woman picked up her purse and stormed out of the establishment. The man, however, seemed relatively unruffled, dabbing at his face with the serviette.