Who's Your Paddy?

Chapter 1

                                                                                

                                                         

Ordering a Cosmopolitan in a bar in Phoenix, Arizona isn't necessarily an unusual thing. Doing so in a respected Irish pub might come off as a little awkward to someone that didn't know me. Or so it dawned when the bartender gazed down his nose with narrowed eyes.

"Cosmo?" he exhaled with condescension.

"Uh. Yeah. It's the new 'in' drink." I shifted, a little uncomfortable by the affront. "Is that a problem?"

"Oh, no," he said, softening his demeanor. "Ya jest took me by surprise. I haven't heard anyone order one of 'em in here fer ages."

"Oh. I guess they wouldn't. Ha. Uh, Guinness then? I mean, if it's a bother that'll-" He raised a hand, cutting me off.

"No trouble a'tall. Jest give me a sec ta go look it up."

A boyish grin crept onto his face before he turned away. As amusing as it was disarming, and I was glad for something to smooth over the uncomfortable moment.

It was Monday February twenty-ninth, and not a single thing about the day could have been classified as ordinary. From the moment I finally received recognition at work, to my sitting on a stool at the bar, having a single extra day changed everything. And I'm not talking about the astronomical shifting that would happen if we didn't get the extra day every four years. I'm talking about the mental shift that happens when something great rocks your world.

"There ya go," the bartender said. The pride in his smile was unmistakable.

"Wow. I hope that tastes as great as it looks."

He winked. "Hope so too."

Raising his eyebrows in anticipation, he watched while I took my first sip.

"It's perfect," I lied. He went to so much trouble I didn't have the heart to be honest.

He seemed satisfied with my answer and wandered off to help another patron. I finally had a moment to get comfortable and relax into my surroundings. To my immediate right, past a single empty stool sat a slightly older woman reading a newspaper. Just the way she had a bunch of personal items strewn across the bar in front of her, it looked as though she'd been there a while.

The booth near the door held a pair of older men, deep in discussion. In the bigger part of the room, near a large stage, two women were seated at a low table, chatting non-stop.

There were several others I couldn't see well from my seat, but it looked to be a decent number of patrons for a Monday afternoon.

"Should I leave yer tab open?"

"Oh, no. I'll just pay cash."

I pulled my purse off the seat back and just as I did, my cell phone rang. "Sorry, one sec."

Flipping it open, I saw the call was from my friend and co-worker, Paul. I pulled a twenty out of my purse, slid it across the bar and pressed the button to answer. Paul didn't wait for my greeting.

"So tell me you're off celebrating with your ass in the air or something equally lewd and lascivious."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help grinning. "Yes and no. And you are a vulgar swine. I'd hate you if I didn't like you so much."