8. June
June
“Istill can’t believe you slept with both of them,” Cora whispers from her spot at the bar.
“Okay, no, I totally can. What I can’t believe is that they know each other.
That they live with each other.” She pauses, her eyes going wide.
“What if it’s a father son type situation. I would so not put it past you.”
I roll my eyes and dry off a glass, setting it in its respective home next to the other cups.
“Old-fashioned and a whatever is on draft," a round-faced waitress barks off a table's order.
“We have six beers on draft.” I point to the selection.
“They said to surprise them.”
“What am I, a fucking magician?” I pluck a sugar cube from the tray and swipe the bottle of bitters to get started on the first of the two.
It doesn’t take me long until I finish, topping it with an orange slice and reaching for a mug.
I decide on pouring them a Floki, mainly because it’s my personal favorite out of our collection.
An international pilsner with a crisp hop flavor and well-balanced sweetness. A solid crowd pleaser for most palates.
And if there are any complaints, they can fuck off, considering they gave me nothing to go off of to help sway my decision.
I set the drinks on her tray and go to work cleaning up the small mess I made, preparing for the next order.
“Have you heard from them?” Cora reaches over and plucks a cherry out of the little holder.
I narrow my eyes at her. “You’re going to get me fired.”
Cora grins. “I’m the least of your worries, babe.”
She’s totally right. There are countless reasons why my employment should be terminated, specifically the brutal beating and the wild sex in the bathroom. Not exactly going to be winning employee of the month anytime soon.
“No. I haven’t,” I answer her.
“It’s been what, a week?”
“Mmhm.” Six days to be more precise.
And as much as I try, as hard as I push the thought of each of them away, they play on a steady loop in my head, not seeming to fade one damn bit.
It’s annoying, really. I haven’t thought this much about one man, let alone three, since…
ever. Even years ago, when Coen left me, it was this sad overwhelming loss I couldn’t comprehend.
Now, it’s an untamed lust for a trio of guys who I can’t have.
Because how the hell would I ever choose?
I can’t pick just one, and I wouldn’t want to anyway.
I don't do long-term. That much is certain.
So, I do what I do best, I move forward, move on, and push them into my past where they belong.
Best is a loose term, given I’m struggling to have a single thought without any of them in it.
“You know where they live.” Cora rests her chin on her hands, her elbows propped up on the counter.
“And they know where I work.”
“True, but maybe they’re waiting on you to make a move since you barged out of there like a madwoman."
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
She smiles. “Let me live vicariously through you, please.”
The older man at the end of the bar clears his throat. “I’ll be seeing ya, June." He pulls out his wallet, rifling through his bills until he finds the one he’s looking for. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks, have a good night.” I smile politely and wait for him to walk away before going over to his spot.
“Damn, he left a twenty.”
“Is that good or bad?” Cora asks me.
“He only owed seven-fifty for his drink.”
I close out his bill on the register, make change, and hand Cora ten of it, pocketing the rest. “That makes one-forty that I owe you.”
“You can wait until you have it all to pay me back.”
I shake my head. “Makes me feel like I’m making progress if I do it this way.
” Not to mention, I don’t trust that Carter won’t break into my room and steal my money if I stash it in there.
I don’t exactly like to walk around with too much on me in case I get mugged.
One can never be too sure. After losing what I did and having to scramble to recoup it, I can’t afford to take any other unnecessary risks.
I hated having to ask Cora for a loan; the sooner I get the balance squared away the better.
She’s my friend, and I know she cares, but there’s this weird, unsettling feeling about being in someone’s debt that I can’t seem to shake.
I’ve gone my whole life without asking anyone for a damn thing, I don’t want to start now.
Getting Carter to admit to taking my money is still on my to-do list, but I have more pressing matters. He’ll get what’s coming to him sooner or later if it’s the last thing I do.
“When does your shift end?” Cora swirls the straw around the remnants of her vodka and diet.
I glance at the clock. “Another hour or so, depends on if it picks up at all.”
She swivels around in her seat. “Not looking promising.”
I scan the dying crowd, the likelihood of making more money tonight dwindling with each passing minute. Thank god for tippers like the last one. He was my ideal patron. Quiet, keeps to himself, doesn’t eye-fuck me in an overly creepy way, and leaves me more than his spare change.
"I'll meet you there if you want to go ahead. I probably won't be much longer." I wipe the counter in front of Cora and take the almost empty cup from her. The only remains are the last few ice cubes that melted into a gross mess of soda flavored water with a hint of booze.
“Are you sure? I don’t mind waiting.” Cora hops off her chair at the first sign of me giving her approval to leave.
“No sense in both of us being stuck here.” I swat at her with my towel. “Go before I change my mind.”
The waitress from earlier approaches. “Booth six wants another round.”
I glance at her nametag, never quite registering what the hell it is every time she pops up. Granted, she’s only been here a week, you’d think I’d remember it by now. “Same thing?”
Jane nods. "Yep. And could I get a seltzer for the guy in the corner?"
My gaze darts across the room to the man she’s referring to.
An unfamiliar face, although that’s not at all surprising around here.
We have a handful of regulars, but typically there is a type that comes into this establishment.
Random couples, rowdy college kids, the old grumpy men who like to sit at the counter, and the exception of the sexy as hell silver fox who fucked me silly in the bathroom.
This guy is none of those. Middle-aged. Not terrible to look at but nothing eye-catching.
Very plain. But with an ex-cop vibe about him.
Simple clothing, a dark t-shirt with a black jacket over it.
No labels. A close haircut and a put-together without much effort aesthetic.
He’s alone which isn’t a big deal, but he hasn’t once checked his phone or gotten out a book or occupied his time more than sitting there, sipping his drink at a snail’s pace.
He’s in a bar. Drinking carbonated water.
It just doesn’t fit.
But who am I to judge?
I make all three drinks and set them on Jane’s tray, ignoring the watchful gaze of the questionable man and chalking it up to him checking me out like all the other straight dudes in here.
Maybe I remind him of someone. Or there’s the possibility that he’s not looking my way at all, and I’m a little too self-absorbed for my own good.
Whatever it is, it doesn’t concern me. I’m not interested, nor do I have any room to even consider it anyway.
I’ve got my mind full of three other men at the moment, and my failed attempt at banging the first one out of my system led to a complete and massive fail on my behalf.
If I’m going to shake my lust for them, I’m going to have to do it without climbing onto another cock.
Three is enough. I can’t begin to imagine any more.
Jack lifts the partition and steps behind the bar with me. “Clean up and you can go. Things are getting pretty slow.”
I knew that was coming. This place is a ghost town lately with the opening of a couple bars nearby.
Popping nightlife is all the craze, and most investors have tailored their businesses to suit the booming college crowd.
Jack hasn’t adapted to the newest fads, meaning his old-fashioned tavern-style place with a beat-up jukebox in the corner isn’t cutting it anymore.
People want craft beer and artesian platters, but Jack refuses to succumb to the trends, insisting that going against the grain will eventually be the new thing.
He could easily get a few other beers on tap, hire an indie live band to come play, and serve some tacos and people would flock in to throw their cash around. It’s not like I’m a business major or anything and have any formal education on how to properly adjust to the changing times.
Silly me.
I do as he asks, wiping down the counter and tidying up our station, making sure all the bottles have found their way back to their spots. Once I’m confident it looks better than when I arrived, I toss my towel into the bin with the other dirty ones.
“You want me to start a load of laundry?” I point to the nearly full crate.
“No, I’ll have Jane get it before she leaves.”
“Okay. Anything else you want me to do?”
“That’ll do, June, that’ll do.”
“See you tomorrow night,” I tell him while making my way to the customer side of the counter.
Jane waves at me from the booth in the corner she’s clearing.
The one my mystery man had staked claim to for weeks on end.
Now he’s less of a mystery and gone forever.
I almost wish I could turn back time and enjoy those moments again when we were nothing more than a server and a customer.
A bit of sexual tension between us in those few word interactions.
I make my way out the door, side-stepping an older couple that is entering Jack’s place. “Excuse me.” I force a customer service smile and continue on my path.
The night air is cool and refreshing, a welcomed change from the thick mustiness of the bar. Bright lights illuminate the sidewalk, leading me to my destination.