Straight As A Garden Hose

Chapter 1

"Grey, did you get those drinks to the guys at table nine?" I asked, filling a glass from the tap. The pub was super busy tonight.

"Ya, I got it," he replied, running off to take someone else's order. There were a few guys sitting at the bar in front of me, their eyes traveling up and down my body everytime I turned around or walked to the other end. They must be from out of town. Everyone in San Antonio knows that I'm not into men. And when I say everyone, I mean everyone. Multiple articles have been published about me in the last year. I was named best bartender in Texas this year, got a fancy trophy and everything. When the cute little redhead reporter asked if I would comment on my sexuality, I smirked and said:

"I'm as straight as a garden hose."

That night while she was writhing in pleasure beneath me, she told me that she was straight and had never done anything like that before. She said she had never been seduced quite so easily, but I just snorted at that. Every girl I've ever had a one night stand with has told me that their not usually that easy. I personally feel that one night stands are for desperate assholes, but I've come to grips with it. I am what I am. I tried having a few girlfriends, but none of them last. Regardless, it's better then being alone.

"Hey baby, what time do you get off work tonight?" one of the college aged guys asked. I glanced at him and gave him my best fake chuckle.

"That's cute," I said sarcastically, then proceeded to move down the bar to serve someone else. I heard all his friends laugh, and I felt bad for a second, but only a second. At least he had the balls to ask.

After a long night of filling orders of beers and mixed drinks, wiping the bar down and collecting pretty hefty tips to which I was thankful for, David the manager came over to me.

"Nice work tonight," he said, leaning against the outside of the bar. I had just finished wiping the taps down, so I hoisted myself up onto the bar to sit. David had always been like an uncle to me. Without him, I definitely wouldn't be where I am today. He looked around the pub, his arms crossed.

"This place has come a long way. Thanks to you," he said with a smile as he patted my leg. I shook my head.

"Not just because of me. We have a good team here. Greydon especially is learning the ropes quickly," I replied, absently wiping my hands with the rag. He nodded.

"Speaking of the team, I hired a new waitress from California," he said, pulling out a chair. I hate to admit it, but that slightly peaked my interest. I arched my eyebrow and he smirked.

"Her name is Everly, and she's just barely 21, so I'm hoping you can teach her a few things," he said. I snorted out a laugh and he rolled his eyes.

"Teach her bar shit, not lesbian shit, please don't corrupt her. You've ruined enough straight girls already," he replied. I shrugged my shoulders and hopped off the counter.

"When does she get here?" I asked, grabbing my bookbag.

"Tomorrow morning. I asked her to come in early so that you could show her around," David replied. I nodded.

"How early are we talking?" I asked, starting to walk towards the back exit.

"Be here by nine am," he replied.

"Ten o'clock it is," I said as I closed the door behind me, a wall of humidity hitting me. We both knew that I'd be here by nine, but I like to antagonize him. I've known him my whole life. When he was going through tough times, my parents helped him out, let him stay at the farm, and he became a ranch hand. Until he saved enough money to start up his own business, the pub, in the city. And yes, I grew up on a farm, but I wouldn't really consider myself a 'country girl'. Yes, I have a big Ford truck that I've jacked up, and yes, I like riding horses and getting dirty every once in a while, but I'm not that plaid wearing, country music listening girl to take home to Mama. I don't really think most Mama's would be happy if their boys brought me home. I'd walk in the door and they'd see my plethora of tattoos, my black hair and clothes, and they'd probably wonder what the fuck he was thinking. But you know what? I'm ok with that.

I sling my bag into the passenger seat as I climb up into my truck. As soon as it roars to life, my phone connects and "Heaven Knows" by The Pretty Reckless blasts through the subwoofers. A smirk crawls up my lips as I shift into gear and pull out of the back ally where I usually park. It's taken quite a while to get used to living in the city, but I've come to like it. Even at such an early hour as this, almost three am, there are people milling around the Riverwalk and nightclubs. With all my windows down, I breath in the fresh air and stuck my arm out the window. I decide to not stop at my usual nightclub tonight, and instead go back to the apartment and try to get some sleep. It's just a couple of miles from the pub, so I get there in no time.

I open the door to my studio apartment and lock it behind me. As I walk up the few stairs to my open bedroom, I leave a trail of clothing behind me. I lie down and look at my phone before shutting it off. I notice that I have multiple texts from women that want to 'hang out' again, but I ignore them for now and toss my phone to the side, and I am lulled to sleep by the sounds of the city down below.