Between the Barn and the Stage

3

"Is that all?" Min-Jun asked. We were speaking Korean now, there was no need to speak in English. "Yes. That is all. Now go tell Caleb to cook it." I mumbled, and leaned on the counter of the bar. I was either waitress or bartender. Today, I began as a waitress but now I had bar duty. The only reason we have the bar is to attract more people, really.

Min-Jun, the only person that works here who has a Korean name because his family is stubborn like that, stomped off with the heafty list of things my team had ordered. It was thirds.

I held my head in my hands. It was the middle of the day, so right now people actually coming to the bar was slim. I was glad, the last time I was bartending, some drunk guy tried to speak Korean to me. I think he was just putting random a's into his English, but he said it was Korean twelve times in a row.

I think you can tell I hate bartending.

To my surprise, someone sat down. I was snapped out of my daze, and I rubbed my palms. The chlorine had gotten to the scrapes, but really it was fine. I switched to English. "What's your poison--wait. I need to see your ID." I said to the boy sitting in front of me. He had wavy brown hair, damp probably from a shower. A hat over that, and large sunglasses and dark trench coat.

"I'm old enough." they muttered, and for the second time today I felt like I knew them.

"Now I really need to see your ID, sir. Saying that you are tends to be what underage kids say all the time. They end up either drunk, passed out, or dead by the end of the night. ID. Now."

"Miss, he doesn't have one at the moment." a short stubby guy with a beard and matching hat to the boy's said. "Then I can't give him any alcoholic drink, assuming that's what you're here for."

"Got a problem, Dylan?" Sara called from the front, in Korean. "No, I'm fine. Just got some stubborn kid here." I responded, and looked back to the man and the boy. I switched back to English. Switching languages is in my job description.

"So, you can either get juice or soda or something, or got see Sara over there, get a table, and order food." I said, playing with the napkin dispenser.

The boy took his sunglasses off, and I sighed. "You? Will, or whatever your name is because you said it wasn't, I definitely know you are under aged."

"My name is Chatham."

"Oh, okay, Chatham. I'm sorry. Wait, do I sound sarcastic? I don't mean to. I'm tired and hungry. Hangry, actually, watching everyone eat. So, what's it gonna be?"

"You honestly don't know who I am?"

"Um...a guy with pretty eyes from Beverly Hills on the opposing swim team who is called by...what, your last name, middle name?...and is trying to get an alcoholic beverage." I said, and my stomach growled. I felt my face pinken slightly, and I muttered to it to shut up in my head.

And then I froze, because I heard my voice. Singing.

My eyes landed to the television, showing a video of me driving and singing. My eyes widened at the number of views at the bottom.

I forgot about Chatham and yelled across the restaurant--honestly the only other people in here other than my team and family was Chatham and his body guard--at Nana. "Nana, you are going to pay for putting that on YouTube! Coach Kyle, make my friend Nana pay the bill for eating here!"

"But Dylan, you're viral!" Nana countered.

"I don't want to be!" I shouted, and then forced myself to ease. I looked back to Chatham, who had wide, surprised eyes and was looking between the television, me, and Nana. "Sorry for yelling. I hope you didn't mind. Juice or soda, or are you ordering?"