Call Me Six

18: 'I'm Too Classy To Be A Stripper' -Tris

TRIS-

A home away from home, that's what Harvey's bar is to me.

"I remember the first day I met you, kiddo," he always used to say, "you were four days old and could fit perfectly in my palm."

He was the one that came to see me day my parents died.

He was to one that held me at their funeral.

He was the one that told me everything would be okay.

Harvey.

"Hey, Beatrice, I think that counter's dry by now," he said with the sarcasm seeping thickly into every word. "Why don't you come and help me unstack the chairs; we've only got half an hour until doors open."

"Okay." I throw the cloth under the counter and hop across the bar to go help with the chairs. "I must warn you, though, manual labour isn't my thing so I'll be expecting a bonus in my pay packet this month," I joke and unstack more of the dark wooden chairs.

A muffled snort escapes him. "I'll tell Aaron to add a bottle of vodka to your allowance, kiddo."

"Thanks," I say and plant a quick kiss on his cheek before darting off to the other side of the bar to unstack tables.

~

Harvey's was open; the music's blasting; the drinks were drowning; people dancing; everyone's getting drunk. Halloween was always one of the busiest nights. Probably because Harvey's always done half price if you turn up in costume.

"I'll take another shot, babes!" A fairly young man shouted across the counter as I continued to serve the never ending rush of drinks.

"Number?" I asked and handed over the shot glass.

"Well aren't you the forward type," he slurred and downed the blue liquid.

"Your tab number. Creepy old pervert," I muttered under my breath.

"47," he said and it's like I could feel his eyes scan my body. "I'll take another, actually; and I'll get you one too, darlin'."

One again I poured the blue liquid into two small glasses and slid one over to him before downing my own and chasing it down with a swig of beer.

A drunken grin is possibly one of the most vulgar expressions to ever be greeted with. "So babe, now I bought you a drink, how'd you feel 'bout taking that lovely blouse of yours off? I mean if you're really going for the sexy mouse look then its a bit out of character... Mice don't wear clothes after all."

Harvey shot me a look asking if I needed help from the other end of the bar but I quickly shook it off. This jackass is not even one of the worst customers here, I thought. At least he had the decency to buy something first, rather than wandering in sober and asking for a lap dance.

"I'm incredibly sorry to disappoint you, Harry," I read from a small name tag hanging out of his shirt pocket, "but I'm too classy to be a stripper. And as you pointed out what mice do and don't do, mice also don't serve drinks. Pay your tab and get out before I call the bouncer."

Apparently, all the other arseholes that were sat at the bar like a bit of spunk because I suddenly received a round of wolf whistles followed by a chorus of 'rejected'.