11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
“ W e just need to actually hire someone,” Milly suggested for the hundredth time.
“Like who? People annoy me,” I replied grumpily as I wiped down the bar top. It was a Monday night, so things were slow. Only a few locals in, and Cooper was sitting at the bar.
“You’re hiring?” Cooper asked.
“Axel is gonna work himself into an early grave if he tries to do a full den-making season and work behind the bar every evening,” Milly explained.
“I managed it in the Spring,” I said indignantly.
“You were practically a zombie by the end of the month. I’m not debating this with you, Ax. Fucking hire someone, or I will.”
“Who’s the boss here?” I asked.
Milly merely looked at me with her eyebrow raised, telling me neither of us wanted her to answer that question out loud. I might have owned the pub, but Milly was the one who kept the place from crumbling to the ground.
“What about Dylan?” Cooper said.
“What about Dylan?“ I asked.
“He said a few days ago that he was looking for a temp job until he figured out what he wants to do next. He’s never worked behind a bar before, but let’s be honest, he’s smarter than all three of us put together, so I think he could keep up.”
Milly looked at me expectantly, daring me to come up with an excuse. “He’d certainly attract a few extra punters with that pretty face of his.”
Not the way to convince me. I growled involuntarily.
Cooper was already dialling on his phone.
“Hey, Dyl. Might have found some work for you.”
Apparently, I was getting no say in the matter.
“Axel needs bar staff to help cover den-making season. Fancy it?”
Milly looked at me smugly.
“Don’t you have work to do?” I mouthed at her.
She smirked and went back to pulling the tap handle, emptying the bright purple line cleaner into a metal bucket underneath.
“It’s not for a few weeks; plenty of time for Axel to train you up,” Cooper explained to Dylan.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked skyward.
“Great. Pop down tomorrow, and Axel will talk you through it all. Yep. Bye, Dyl.”
“What if I had plans tomorrow?”
Both Cooper and Milly cracked up laughing at that with a bit more enthusiasm than I felt the situation warranted. I huffed and left them to their antics. I had some orders to do anyway.
In the corner of the bar, one of the local brewers was setting up for an open mic night. It was my least favourite night in the pub, but it did bring in a regular crowd on a Tuesday, so I couldn’t grumble about it too much.
The front door swung open, wafting Dylan’s scent towards me before he’d even stepped inside. He had a nervous smile on his face; I suspected bar work was a lot out of his comfort zone.
“Hey, Dyl, thanks for coming in,” I said.
“Hey, um. Not that I’m ungrateful, but I suspect that Cooper sort of strong-armed you into this. And if that’s the case, you can back out. I won’t be offended. I know I don’t have any experience. I’m probably a terrible hiring choice. I don’t even drink beer,” he rambled on like he couldn’t contain the word vomit.
“Easy there. Milly was complaining that we’d be understaffed during the season, and Cooper mentioned that you were looking for some temp work. No bullying involved, I promise,” I lied. There was plenty of bullying involved. Fortunately, Milly wasn’t there yet to call me out on it.
I added, “Honestly, I could really use the help. It would be nice to know that I had someone here who I trust working with Milly while I’m busy.”
Dylan’s chest puffed up at that. He’d always been a bit like a house plant that sprung back to life at the first ray of sunlight, or in his case, any minuscule amount of praise. It was cute, and I’d always found myself pressing that button a little more than I should have.
“Okay, well. That’s good. Show me the ropes, boss!” He grinned at me and flung his arms wide like working behind a bar was going to be the most fun he’d ever had.
Oh, sweet summer child.
I’d always felt that everyone should work in hospitality at some point in their lives. It’s character-building, at the very least.
“So the main cover I need is Thursday through Sunday, four pm until close. Except for Saturdays, which would be twelve until close. Would that work for you? Even if you could only do a couple of days, that would be fine. Any extra help is appreciated,” I said.
“I can do that.” He nodded his head eagerly.
“Great. I usually start building from the first week in October, but I spend the last two weeks of September checking in with customers for where they want it and any final design changes, so if you’re free, starting the week after next would be great.”
“But, when will I actually learn to, you know, be a barman?” he asked, looking at me as though I was expecting him to diffuse a bomb with nothing but a pamphlet for guidance.
“Next week, come over during the day when it’s quiet, and we’ll get you trained up in no time,” I reassured.
“Okay, awesome. Are there any books you’d recommend I read beforehand?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. Books you should read before what?”
“Like, bartending books. Books which will tell me how to pour the perfect beer or what a good wine smells like?”
I really tried not to laugh. I truly did. I even pretended to rub my nose to cover the smile on my face.
“No, Dyl. It’s more of a learn-by-doing type of job.”
He looked disappointed by that.
“But maybe there are some YouTube videos you could watch instead?” I suggested. I assumed there were YouTube videos for anything, and if doing some research would make him less nervous, have at it.
“Great idea! Maybe I could stay for a while and watch you work?”
Sweet Dylan Bailey was going to be the death of me.