VegasPete : The rival Venice

53 - Drink

Comece a escrever sua história

Pete's POV

I raised my head immediately.

Our eyes met.

But our hearts didn't.

I can tell Vegas was surprised to see me though.

But he soon looked away and continued talking to friends who greeted him.

I felt...invisible.

I could hear my heartbeat.

I mentally cursed the bartender who missed his shift that night.

Master Kamol nodded to Ton, who called some 'boys' and 'girls' to please his guests.

They served drinks... and sat lasciviously close to them...

Caresses and intimacy were exchanged between guests and 'servants' as if that was no big deal, while laughter, cigarette smoke and alcohol circulated around the room.

Two twinks followed Vegas to the green velvet couch.

I can't watch. I fix my gaze to the fucking drinks I'm making.

That horse can't keep his cock in his pants, can he?!

Damn!

What right do I have to feel as pissed off as I do?!

Vegas couldn't hold back even at 17... what must he have done in five years of a free life?!

Me, on the contrary...all this time holding myself by a feeling that never faded away...

Argh!!

Seriously, I'm a joke! I'm a disgrace!

"Hey, Pete!" I raise my head. "Bring one of this to my friend, please." Master Kamol points to a drink I made for him and then points to Vegas, who was busy with his group of friends and the two idiot twinks laughing at whatever nonsense he said.

Vegas didn't even have the decency to look at me again.

What the heck!

Why me?!

Of all those waiters around...

I'm the fucking bartender, asshole! I'm that invisible dude making drinks, not serving them!

"Pete...Pete..." Ton called my name a couple of times before I could come to my senses again.

"What?!" I place the glass on the counter in front of Ton. In fact, I almost smashed the glass on that counter.

"...?!..." He got startled. Maybe I was too harsh...

"Sorry, I was concentrated preparing this drink he asked." "You can take it".

"Oh, it looks great, Pete...but...Master Kamol asked for you to serve it. Please, hurry up."

"Maybe he was not literal. I'm the bartender. I'm not good with trays, you know...you're way more skilled to do it...that guy is the guest of the night, isn't he?!You go."

"Well...okay...If you don't feel comfortable doing it..."

Phew! I feel relieved. I won't have to breathe the same square of air of lewd bastard Vegas.

As soon as Ton touches that tray...

"Isn't the bartender bringing it himself?!"

That arrogant tone of voice speaking English.

Is that piece of shit defying me?

Yeah...RIGHT NOW, I don't feel quite guilty for leaving him by that time.