The Barista

Play That

I step out of the bathroom, looking around the packed bar. Country music is blaring, and dance lights are streaming through the air and across the dance floor.

The bar is pretty damn big. The dance floor is lined with tables surrounding it. I'd swear the dance floor is a third of the size of a basketball court, which is big for a bar. The bar itself is lined against the back wall and wraps to the right wall.

The dance floor is decently packed and the bar itself is always loaded. It doesn't matter if it's a Wednesday morning. There are always people here. I know because I sometimes have Wednesdays off and I enjoy playing slot machines in the bar.

Tonight is a little different than normal though. Abby and I are here and alone. We aren't looking for anyone, but we are looking to get a little drunk. I mean, it is a Friday night, and we were lucky enough to get the weekend off from making lattes and brownie soup for coffee shop lovers.

I reach the bar, my chair still empty and Abby still guarding my drink like it's a vault. "Took you long enough!" She jokes. "I can't believe we both got the entire weekend off. When was the last time Ron allowed that? Both of us, both days off? Is he feeling, okay?"

"No, he's not," I say and slide my drink toward me. "He hired a new girl, and he's terrified of losing me since I took that job from Jericho last week."

I take a sip from my drink, squint my eyes, and grind my teeth in disgust. "Robby!" I call out. "Robby! What is wrong with my drink!"

"Not tonight, Elle!" he argues, snapping his fingers and bobbing his head.

Robby is a friend of mine. He's gayer than gay can get and I freaking love him from the bottom of my heart. But he hates it when I call him out for his horrible drink-making.

"How many ounces, Robby!" I argue, quickly slapping my hand against his arm to stop him. "I love you, but how in the hell do you still have a job here? Bring me the bottles!"

He scoffs and looks at Abby. "I hate it when she does this. Can you please force her to go to another bar?"

Abby's lips curl into a smile. "And not come see our best friend and support the best bar in town? Nah, We like coming here. Now do as she says, or I'm telling Josh about Ryan."

"Bitch!" He roars in the most girlish but funniest voice he can give. "You wouldn't!"

Abby flashes her eyebrows. "I would!"

Robby spins around, quickly grabbing the bottle of vodka, the orange juice, and the cherry juice. He turns back around, sets the bottles down, and quickly slides a new glass toward me. "Here you go. Maybe you should just be working here."

I shake my head. "I hate bartending. I only enjoy being a barista because I was somewhat raised in it. You know that."

"That's a sixteen-ounce cup." He acknowledges it and waves his hand at it like I'm a dummy. "You know the drill, Elle..." He pauses and grabs three more glasses. "Prove to us all how intelligent you are. Ten ounces, three ounces, and three ounces. Without having the ounces. You are such a pain in my ass."

I take the first bottle and pour it into the glass. I grab the second bottle and do the same. I take the third and do the same. Everyone around me watches as I prove my mind is not humanlike.

Robby exhales an annoyed-sounding breath. "Okay. I need the shot glasses now so I can prove she did it right."

He grabs the shot glasses and a ten-ounce glass. "Okay, everyone. Let's see how off she was."