Bellissimo Angelo - Book Three

Chapter 1 - Taken Advantage Of

"Hey, Maggie! Would you mind covering my shift on Saturday? It's my Grandma's birthday." Alisha asks as she approaches the bar. 

I stop wiping down the bartop and spin around to face her as she opens the side door to the bar and enters, "I thought her birthday was three months ago when I covered for you then?" I ask curiously. 

Her eyes grow wide, "Oh no, well... that's my other Grandma." she responds as she flashes a half-hearted grin.

"Sure, I'll cover for you," I respond as I blow the loose strand of hair from my eyes.

"Great, thank you! You are so awesome to work with." She responds excitedly as she prances around behind the bar pouring the couple's drinks across the room. 

I turn back around to resume wiping down the bartop before tackling the sink full of dirty glasses.  Most of them are Alisha's because I usually wash mine as I go.  I swear to God she will be the death of me; she is the laziest bartender I have ever met. I'm always stuck cleaning up after her. 

After she returns to the bar from delivering the drinks, she walks past me while I'm hard at work cleaning up after her, "Oh, thank you, Maggie. I need to head out early. I have a hot date tonight with Chris." 

Her words cut through me like a knife. What a bitch! She is going to leave me to close again by myself! She knows it's not allowed. 

Alisha disappears in the back for a moment and returns with her jacket and purse. I stop to gaze at her without her apron on enviously. She's wearing a tight black halter top that shows off her perfect bosom and her tiny waist with a pair of tight black pants and knee-high boots. Alisha is absolutely stunning; she uses her beauty and charm to her advantage; let me tell you, she always gets the best tips, and she can't bartend for shit! Customers who aren't mesmerized by her beauty always send her mixed drinks back, and then I usually have to remake them. 

I divert my attention away from her before she catches me looking and glance down at my own clothes. I'm wearing a tight grey t-shirt, and a pair of jeans with my hair pulled back in a ponytail; I'm nothing special. I'm just here trying to make a living, not trying to put myself out there. I'm in a relationship anyway... well... sort of. 

She waves goodbye to me and walks towards the door.  I wave back with the wet dishrag still in my hand, "Don't mention it." I say quietly as she slips out the front door. 

A female customer approaches the bar with the mixed drinks that Alisha just poured, "Excuse me, Miss. These taste awful!" 

I spin around and approach her, "Oh, I'm so sorry, what did you order?"

"A jack and coke with an amaretto sour," she responds. 

"I'll remake them for you, no problem. I apologize for the inconvenience." I tell her.

She nods her head, and I quickly make up the drinks for her. She takes a sip of the amaretto sour and smiles, "Now that's better. Thank you!" 

I wave back at her, "My pleasure." 

One of the regulars at Tito's Bar raises his finger, attempting to get my attention, so I approach where he is seated, "Hey Mr. Miller, how are you doing? Would you like a refill?" 

He chuckles, "No, thank you, darlin. I'm going to head home before I'm too drunk to function."

He slowly gets up from the bar and stumbles a bit, "Want me to call you a cab?" I ask curiously.

 "Nahhh... I'm good. I ate some potato skins, honey. I should be fine. It's this old bum knee of mine."

"Well, Alright. Say hi to Doris for me." I respond. 

"I sure will. She sure does love your lemon meringue cupcakes." 

I flash him a warm smile, "Oh well, good. I'm glad to hear." 

He lays out a twenty-dollar bill before me and tips his hat to bid me farewell before exiting the bar. He's such a sweet guy! He works the second shift at the steel mill in town. He comes in a couple of times a week to have some bar food with a few drinks while his wife works the night shift at the hospital. He told me once that he hates to go home and sleep in the bed without her. It nearly broke my heart to hear that. I can tell he loves her so much. I should hope that one day I find a love like that. 

After a while, the bar clears out, and the place is empty. I'm left to close it up alone, but I'm used to it by now. There's a room in the back where the bar owner stores a piano and a microphone that he will pull out when he hires bands to play for special occasions. I love to sneak back there by myself to sing and play the piano. I don't sing in front of people much. The only ones who have heard me are Momma, Gran, and my best friend Brie, but lately, I've just been singing for myself. Momma has been busy watching my brother's little girl and working weekends while Brie is away at college. I'll go up to visit my Gran occasionally at the Assisted Living Center when I'm off, and she will ask me to sing for her but not as often as we used to when she lived in her own home.

These nights where I'm left alone to close the bar are the few nights I get any sense of enjoyment anymore. I can sing and play the piano to my heart's content, and not a soul can hear me; it's therapeutic. So, if I'm being honest, maybe I don't mind when Alisha bails on me. Lately, I've been kind of like a lost pup searching for a new home. I don't get out much except to work and hang out every now and then with my boyfriend, Nate. He's been my on again off again boyfriend since high school. I'm really not sure why we are together right now. I can't say that I enjoy his company; he's such a drag and smokes like a chimney.  Maybe for me, it's more out of habit. I can't really say what his reasons are for being with me. Nevertheless, the relationship has more than run its course.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and I intend to go to his family's house with him to celebrate. His parents and little sister picked up and moved to Shreveport, Louisiana because his dad was transferred there for work. It's quite a drive from Laurel, Mississippi; nearly five hours one way.

Nate decided to stay behind; he lives in an apartment with his cousin Jeb. They work together at the local steel mill, the same place where Mr. Miller works. I'm just a third wheel with those guys, so I often don't even bother to initiate plans anymore unless Nate calls me to make plans first.  

The bar is exceptionally quiet tonight, aside from the jukebox playing out the songs that the customers paid for over the course of the day. It's playing out Tim McGraw...Don't Take the Girl. I hum along to the melody while finishing up the last of the cleaning. 

After I'm done cleaning the bar and counting the drawer, I sneak to the backroom to sit down at the bench in front of the piano. I playfully run my fingers along the piano keys; it's heaven to have this all to myself, and it would be a shame to let it go unused. As I start to get into the song, I'm startled as I hear a loud bang coming from the front of the bar.  My body tenses, and I freeze. I will myself to be very quiet so that I can listen for any more noises.  

Bang! Bang! Bang! My whole body is jolted from the shock. I jump up from the bench and scurry towards the doorway to get a good look. Suddenly fear sweeps over me as I realize I'm not alone...