Sugar and Spice

Chapter 1

Working at a bar isn't all it's cracked up to be. There's nothing glamorous about cleaning vomit in the bathrooms or mopping up spilled alcohol off my wooden floors. But it's mine, the only thing in this world I value, the only thing in this world I busted my ass for and was rewarded with in all my life.

Monday through Saturday I'm open, a lone island of liquor on the dusty stretch of road that leads everyone from one important place to another with nothing but my oasis in between for miles. I like it that way. The police take a little while getting there when things get out of hand, which is why I keep my shotgun under my bar. Cliche, isn't it? But it's effective and it has proven its worth on more than one occasion.

I get all types of clientele in my bar. You have your almost-obligatory biker gangs that come through, though most of them help keep the peace rather than cause the trouble. You have your wandering travelers from one city or another that are snobs and stick their noses up in a huff when they discover that, no, I don't serve Chardonnay. I had two honeymoon couples wander in, looking around as though my bar was a quaint sight-seeing attraction, giggling and taking pictures. FYI: don't take pictures of bikers at a bar for your friends back home, at least without permission.

I have a few loyal customers that have found some solace from whatever plagues their lives within these walls. I serve them as soon as they sit down and they smile, sadly, at the pleasing thought that at least here they are known and loved. I've even had a few famous people come through. Believe me when I say that even though I am hardened by my life, I have fan-girl moments around the Hollywood elite.

I met Ryan Reynolds and his entourage once. They had broken down in the heat of summer on their way to some important meeting. I was the only place around, as previously mentioned, and they didn't have cell service. In this time of technology we can still be brought to our knees by a lack of signal bars. Thank goodness I had a Landline, poor fools. In the meantime, his group didn't order much of anything, a few snacks and a couple of drinks. Reynolds himself didn't order anything but a water, he was watching his figure, he said, for some up and coming movie where he had to wear a tight bodysuit... Poor guy. Either way, our picture together sits proudly on my wall, taken moments before their help arrived, surrounded by three pictures of other lucky famous people to have met my bar.

Things have been rather steady, the recession a few years back didn't hit me too hard, most people find a few dollars for a drink to drown out the fact their lives as they knew it had ended. I talked more than a few of them out of suicide, a thing I consider a permanent solution to a temporary problem. Since the recession lifted and things have gone back to almost the way they were ten years ago, business hadn't suffered either. I rarely get slow days, even living on a long dirt road in the middle of nowhere, if you have alcohol, they will come.

Today, being a Thursday, has been pretty typical. The people who live close enough to travel here from their work stop by so they can use some of their hard-earned cash to grab a drink before heading home to deal with real life again. I have already broken up two fights and a couple members of a local bike gang threw a patron out for me for causing mischief.... After having been made to clean up after himself and righted a few of my chairs that he knocked over.

All is pretty quiet when a group of people come in. Tourists of course. I set up glasses and as they approach, I notice a tall, solidly built man separate from the group and sit at the corner of the bar. He asks for whatever is on tap and slowly sips at it, leisurely and patiently. A man with a lot on his mind.

I keep watch on this admittedly sexy customer, knowing I have seen him before but I can't quite place him. The slam of a palm jerks me out of my stupor and a man with a Barbie on him tells me he wants top shelf whiskey for him and his girl. They get their shots and order two more before they wander to a table with a bag of chips to watch the TV in the corner. The sexy beast of a man sits and watches the whole ordeal without batting an eyelash. His drink isn't even half gone.