ONE SHOTS [CLOSED FOR NOW]

12 Step Program - Jake Pitts

12 Step Program - Jake Pitts

I smirked, cleaning the shot glass with a quick flick of my wrist, glancing at the young man in front of me. His hair was a dark black with some slight knots in it from neglect and his face was smeared a little with black as if he tried to remove makeup. The bar was quiet, but what would you expect on a Tuesday? I decided to take the shift alone, seeing how this guy and another were the last customers of the night. 

The man sighed and waved his hand, catching my attention. 

"Two of your strongest." He mumbled. Normally, I would have done what the customer asked, mixing together the strongest liquors we had, topping it off with salt, but I knew this guy must be new to drinking, seeing how he was glancing nervously at the drinks beside him and behind me. 

That's when I noticed a small tattoo on his upper arm. 

It was a small number 12 with a rickety stair leading up to where his T-shirt cut off the rest of his skin. I recognized the tattoo. It was a twelve step program tattoo. Now I understood why he was nervously glancing about, giving the alcohol a sick glare; he was a recovering alcoholic, and seeing how the tattoo was a bit shiny, it was maybe, a week old. 

"Excuse me?" he snapped, his voice causing me to flinch. "Did you hear me? Two of your strongest!" 

I narrowed my eyes and grabbed two shot glasses. I grasped the bottle that was opaque, but filled with water which is what we normally gave to too intoxicated people who still demanded liquor. 

I filled the shots and slid them in front of him. The man pursed his lips and glanced down at the shots, thinking. 

C'mon stranger, I thought. You're stronger than this. 

My thoughts were silenced as he grasped a shot and tipped his head back, already making a face. His eyes widened as he looked quizzically down at his empty shot glass in disbelief. 

"…water?" he finally breathed. I felt my eyes narrow as I frowned at the man. 

"Yes, water. What were you thinking?" I snatched the empty shot from him and took the full one back as well, dumping both into the dirty bucket. "You're a fucking 12 step program attendee-" 

"Shut up." The man mumbled, reddening in the face, but I didn't listen. 

The other man left a stack of money in front of him and stumbled out of the bar, waving me off. I leaned over and picked up the bills, noticing he was forty dollars short, but I plucked the difference from my tip jar so I wouldn't get in trouble with my boss. 

"What're you doing?" he asked, his eyes calculating me carefully. I rolled my eyes. 

"What's your name?" I sighed, changing the subject. The man chewed on his lip. 

"Jake." He looked down at his hands. "Can I have a soda, then?" 

I nodded and grabbed a large mug and filled it with Coca-Cola. Jake gave me a grateful smile. "What's your name?" 

"Jill." I sighed, glancing at the clock. Five minutes until I closed up. I knew I had to kick this Jake guy out, but he smiled at me. 

"Thank you, Jill. You're very kind. How'd you know about my-" Jake broke off looking at his hands again. "My addiction?" 

I nodded to his tattoo. "I have one too." 

"And you're a bartender?" Jake gasped. I felt my upper lip curl. 

"Not all addictions are alcohol related, Jake." 

Jake only gave me a blank look as he bit the inside of his cheek, and that's when I decided to actually play the stereotypical bartender, asking the drunken, or in my case, man, what his troubles were.