Where To Next? (girlxgirl)

chapter i.

"He can't even three plate carry, I'm just saying, I've been here far longer. It's so unfair he's getting promoted after being here for only 4 months," Macey paced around in the alleyway on yelling down the line of her phone. "What do you mean 4 months is a long time? God, you're so thick sometimes! Jared, I've been here 2 fucking years!"

There's something so awkward about being around people on heated phone calls. Are you meant to ask if they're alright afterwards? Carry on the conversation? Does it make you seem like an eavesdropper?

I took another drag of my cigarette & avoided eye contact with her as if I couldn't hear her conversation.

"Fuck, could you just agree with me for once?" Macey continued, she looked exhausted and I felt for her. I haven't worked here long and didn't know many of the people, but the one thing I did know was that Macey's boyfriend was a dick. The girl could probably write a book about that man just off of what she's told me in the past week.

A breeze blew down the alleyway and I shuddered. I twiddled the cigarette butt between my two fingers, pressing it to the ash stray. Standing up, I mouthed awkwardly to Macey "I'll be inside..." to do anything to avoid being the brunt of that awkward conversation.

I pushed through the door, catching it behind me as I slid my phone back into my pocket, glancing at the tens of emails unreplied to. It never ends.

Tying my hair back up and adjusting my apron, I walked back onto the floor. Only three hours left, I thought to myself. I found my way back to the pass of the bar.

"Yo! Welcome back, take these fuckin' orders girl," one of the bartenders, Jackson, spat at me sarcastically. I nodded. I adjusted the drinks on my tray, 2 long islands & a tequila soda. "Table 4. Don't forget your smile." the same bartender winked at me, slicking back his greasy hair. I bit the inside of my cheeks not to say anything. Gross.

Table 4. I balanced the drinks on the tray and stood up straight and prepared myself for the tip-winning act. No one here ever tipped.

I approached the table full of people roughly my age, three mid 20 year olds, laughing and pushing each other. I felt a little bit of jealousy.

I didn't have many friends here. Any friends.

They were dressed up in formal attire, either having pre-drinks or just coming from some sort of event. The two boys were dressed almost identically, their hair colours distinguishing them between each other. The girl at the table caught my eye, she was beautiful. Her brown hair in a loose up-do and her blazer draped over her chair neatly.

"Howdy y'all. Welcome to Wild West Wings. I've got some drinks here," I started placing the drinks on the table, saying what they were. The 2 long islands for the boys & tequila soda for the girl. "Let me know if I can rootin-tootin' help y'all with anything else!" I say, in the best western accent I can muster.

They let out a giggle, something that was pretty common after the pre-rehearsed spiel, "There's no way that's your real accent," one of the boys said. I turned to face him, "Wait til you find out Santa's not real either." I joked back with him and walked back to the pass after taking one last quick glance at the girl, she was smiling & I smiled back.

Another two hours pass, I wipe the fridge doors for what feels like the 100th time this week and serve 4 more tables.

Wild West Wings wasn't a popular bar. It was a restaurant turned dive bar after the kitchen closed 2 years ago. The rumour is that health inspectors came through & found dead mice in the friers. Wild West Wings quickly became... Wild West.