Long Work Nights and Cigarattes

You've known the bartender since you were a kid, around 6, and now you were working for him, your dream job. As you grew older, around 11 and 12, people would always tease you calling him your "Boyfriend". Of course it always annoyed you, but you brushed it off, it was more of him being a father figure to you, since many tried to be one and failed, but you saw hope in him. You remember late nights of your mom and her fiance talking the poor man's ear off while you sipped on his famous Shirley temples and admired him from your barstool. You remember being 9 or 10, rolling silverware while your mom worked, since she had a job there at the time. You remember the way he smelled of booze, smokes, and expensive cologne, since he was getting off pretty well for the small town you lived in. Nice car, nice job, nice house, he had it all.

But now you're 15, working your job Friday, Saturday, Sunday. You were underage to be a server, but since you spent most of your years watching and helping your mom who also was a server, now a restaurant manager at the Tavern near your apartment, you cut out for the job. You worked your butt off, fresh into high school and your high top Vans have never seen more work in their life. The only thing getting you through your shift being the great music they always played, the fact it was your favorite restaurant, and him.