Jungle (z.m.)

I

                                                               She from the Jungle

                Orchid picked up the slightly damp washcloth, wiping the dirty bar top clean. She quickly picked up empty beer bottles, empty glasses, napkins, and straw wrappers before properly disposing each item. She leaned against the bar top, exhausted. Orchid ran a hand over her face. The music and loud chatter in the background caused a slight pain in the back of her head.

                She felt a calloused hand fall on her shoulder.

                "Don't worry, it's almost over."

              Orchid pouted, her bottom lip stuck out. She checked her watch and realized she had an hour left of work. She took in a much needed breath before putting on a fake smile. She approached an older woman who sat at the bar top. Orchid mentally took in the woman's appearance: designer bag, dress, and jewelry.  Orchid only hoped the woman would give her a fair tip.

                "What can I get you?" Orchid smiled.

                "Mojito."

                                                                                           ***

                Zayn tossed his apartment keys up and down, successfully catching them after every toss. He was walking down a busy New York street, people occasionally bumping into him. That was until a small bar caught his attention, the bright logo of the bar shinning down on him. Zayn gazed inside and realized that the bar was fairly crowded. I could use a drink, he thought.

                Walking inside the bar made Zayn's nose scrunch up. The small room was stuffy from the crowdedness and the music was barely audible due to the loud chatter. A few people had crashed into him before mumbling their apologies. Zayn stood on the tips of his toes searching for an open seat. Surprisingly there was an empty seat at the bar top. Zayn sat on the leather bar stool waiting for a bartender to approach him.

                Zayn watched as a few bartenders walked past him, preoccupied with other customers' drinks. Zayn opened his mouth to call over a bartender, but quickly closed it once he noticed they were busy. Seriously, he thought. He thumped his fist against the counter.

                "'Scuse me," Zayn said, attempting once more to grab a different bartender's attention.

                He sighed feeling defeated. Zayn sat back against the leather bar stool. He looked around the bar, noticing how everyone else had a drink. He turned around hoping a bartender would be willing to serve him. It was when he turned around that he noticed a girl appear. He watched the girl – who had to be his age, or a few years younger – walk behind the bar top pulling her wavy hair into a ponytail. She fixed the straps of her black halter tank top before turning around and meeting his gaze. The girl frowned as she noticed Zayn's lonely appearance. She glanced to her left watching her coworkers serve other customers. Her dark defined eyebrows furrowing.

                "Has no one helped you?" She asked.

                Zayn shook his head.

                "Sorry 'bout that," she half smiled, her palms now on the bar top as she leaned against it. "What can I get you?"

                "Whiskey and a water."