The Bartender

Chapter 2

"Clothes on or off for what?" I asked and took a careful step back.

The guy just smirked and dug out an apron from the cabinet.

"For this."

He held the plastic wrapped clothing to me and I took it. The black linen apron was neatly packed, the logo of the nightclub hidden from view.

"I don't hit on girls on the first day," he laughed sweetly. "I do that later."

I let out a snicker myself. Stupidity had me from the second I saw these guys face. Like Jon had said, he had basically hired me for my looks and probably for my almost fit body. This offended me a little, but I had to shake that off me.

I tore the plastic and fished out the apron.

"Are you gonna stare me the whole time while I try this on?" I asked and he rolled his eyes at me.

"If you want me to, then yes. I am hoping to see you flash some skin or something. You know, a man's brain is always on alert for that."

"I didn't figure you were that kind of a guy;" I hooked the laces around my mid waist and pulled a knot on the front. While I adjusted it, I motioned him to turn around, so I could fiddle with the hem of my shirt what had punched up a bit.

Thankfully, he turned.

"What kind of a guy?" He asked and I could feel his brows furrowing on his forehead.

"You know, the semiformal manslut, sex maniac and a tail chaser."

There I said it, without a filter or any kind of a sweetener.

I pushed past him and found a mirror at the back. The material was warm, slick and expensive. My gaze ran over the logo on the front to the hook around my neck. His very presence was felt before I could even catch him in the line of my sight in the mirror.

"I am not a manslut or a tail chaser." He said sternly. "You have barely known me for a second and you are already calling me names. First of all, that's rude. And second, my ego is wounded."

"Good."

I was waiting for a comeback but there didn't come any. I stayed grounded, still ogling at the simple uniform I was handed just a moment ago.

"This fits you well. I suppose you will start today, which means we need to go and get you that list of cocktails and mixes served tonight. You will have two hours to memorize all of them before the doors open. I suggest you take lots of notes because when Jon unlocks the front door tonight, that list and the cheat note won't be there to help you out."

I heard a clicking sound and an army of chefs walking in from a door I hadn't noticed. For a nightclub, what probably didn't serve a wide range of dishes, the manpower to run the kitchen was impressive.

I later learned that this section of the kitchen wasn't meant for the Sugar Sweet nightclub, then for a rather private lounge sitting place on the third floor.

Three hours later

"It's not."

"It is."

"Oh cmon, you can't be serious. This is the worst joke of all time and for the love of God, the dirtiest." One of the girls at the bar was flashing a smile to a young blond guy, who apparently had a quite of an oral battle with her.

She threw her hair over her shoulder.

"If you expect me to put out for a joke and not for sweet talk, you mister, are mistaken." She fired and the guy's face dropped. There wasn't a single drop of hope on his face left and for the first time that night, I even felt sorry for the guy. He had been going at it for over an hour for now and she wouldn't budge.

In Florida, guys would try once, maybe even two times to hit on the girl, but when it backfired, they would move on to the new one and usually use the same lines. At least, they had a routine but this poor fellow wouldn't take a no for an answer. While he started from some tacky pickup lines, there was no luck for him to get her number or even a trip back to his or her place that night.

Now he was trying to woo this poor girl with the 'peanut butter and jam' joke. I could never imagine that joke getting any guy laid, but apparently, he was going all in for her.

I was pouring out two beers while Marcus was sweet-talking to a client on my right. He was touching her hand, smiling, laughing; like the etiquette of proper serving and client service wasn't something he followed. But since he had only a short amount of time left working for this club, he wasn't probably going to waste that.

"Would you just leave?" the girl asked the blond guy and since he knew very well that this was a defeat, he took his jacket off the stool and left.

I knew staring was bad, and my mom always told me it was not nice, but for the thousandth time that night, I found myself looking at Marcus like he was a super unnatural creature who was about to become instinct. A rare sight- they called him.
And by they, I mean all the waitresses and woman working for this club.

Apparently, I wasn't the only one burning a hole in his face with my staring. Everyone, including the women clients, had a staring contests with each other. You might as well light a match and the place would have a sparking fire in minutes. There was that much tension in the building when Marcus was on duty.

The band had started to play half an hour ago and the dance floor was crowded by screaming and dancing young people. Mainstream's lead singer and their bassist had already taken off their shirts and were jumping up and down the stage, making the crowd go crazy.
"Hey beautiful, got some specials tonight?" A man's voice brought me out of my dazed out situation and in complete horror I watched my former boss' son take a seat across the bar from me.
"Yeah. How about a 'kick in a groin'?" I replied, "it's half 'get the hell out' and 'fuck off'!"

// Late update \\

So sorry for the late update.
It's a shorter chapter but better than I failing to update at all.
Check out my new song "Fools" with JPAP and Stefani up!!! 🤘