On The Rocks (The Bartending Trilogy #1)

I

Hazel Winters

Dear Miss Winters,

Thank you for applying to the role of Bartender at Haven.

Unfortunately, you have not been successful on this occasion…

don't bother to read the rest of the email. After ten rejection emails, the phrases are all the same.

Deciding to pull myself out of the depression pit, grab the only coat own and leave my apartment. Despite the cream colour having faded in patches and the threads holding on for dear life, it still keeps me warm enough to brave the cold of England.

The usual chill of February air hits me as soon as walk outside. wrap my coat tighter around my body and begin walking down the street in no particular direction. The grey sky emulates my mood, warm amber streetlamps showcasing the fog covering London.

’ve been applying for jobs since my boss spontaneously decided to fire me just before the festive rush in December. He’d told me it was purely due to over-staffing, but knew that wasn’t true as soon as the pathetic words left his lips. ’d worked at his bar since he opened it three years ago and was always the one to pick up extra shifts when others dropped out. Yet as times got tough for the business, was the first victim in their redundancy purge.

This resulted in me spending Christmas day alone, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets as applied endlessly to any sort of job that required basic skills. can’t even afford to turn the heating on and currently have about thirty quid to my name.

walk past the park, watching as toddlers run around with their parents trying to catch them frantically.

Having no family really sucks in times like these.

What would do to have my Mum back to comfort me right now. To tell me everything's alright and hold me while cry in those moments where life feels like too much.

nstead, wipe my own tears and hope she’s watching over me, knowing everything happens for a reason.

The bright lights and bustling of the city traffic assaults my senses as turn the corner. My feet automatically carry me towards my favourite corner shop. Reluctantly, pass right by it, knowing can’t even afford to treat myself to a fizzy drink at the moment.

As keep walking down the pavement, an idea suddenly pops into my head.

My steps quicken until ’m pushing open the heavy door of Haven . Anger clouds my vision as take in the surroundings of the nightclub. t’s clearly draped in money, having been turned from a beautifully architected bank into one of the hottest clubs in London.

’m sick of being told no.

The stone arches and walls of the listed building have been restored to their former glory, whilst modern, darkened booths line down the sides of the marble dance floor. A small stage hides in the corner, with an expensive DJ deck for the famous special guests they frequently showcase.

The entry fee alone is extortionate, and the twenty quid cocktails seem like pure daylight robbery. Yet, the place is never empty, and the drunken customers churning out on the streets every night means the owners must get away with the prices.

walk down to the long bar, which is clearly illuminated despite the club still being closed.

“Not open yet, hon. Come back later,” a blonde woman announces as soon as reach the bar. She lifts her head and scans over my body, disdain coating her features, “Actually, ’m not sure if you’ll be able to afford coming back later.”

scoff at her sheer audacity.

“Now that is great multitasking! Must be tough being a bitch and restocking a bar at the same time, but you seem to pull it off flawlessly, hon ,” smile at her, watching as her face contorts into anger, before continuing, “As much as would absolutely love to spend time talking to you, came here to speak to the owner.”

move my long, black hair off my shoulder and give her my best fake smile as tap my foot impatiently.

Thank God washed my hair last night.

She purses her lips, standing to her full height.

“Which owner?”

pause for a moment. didn’t expect there to be more than one. Although, guess it would take more than one person to run a place as successful as this. t would be a lot easier if there was just one, though.

"All of them," maintain my smile, not wanting her to see me falter.

She sighs at me before spitting out, "up the stairs, third door on your right.” She walks off before can say anything else. roll my eyes at the over exaggerated swish of her fake blonde ponytail.

Turning around on my heels, survey the heart of the club before noticing a set of stairs leading up to a mezzanine. Choosing that as the best and only option, walk up to them and head down a long hallway.

The ‘Staff Only’ sign doesn’t deter me, only giving me more determination to see this through.

literally have nothing to lose.

The hallway turns darker than the main part of the club, illuminated only by a few lights overhead. count down the doors until reach the third one. Knocking on it with a deep breath, try to ignore the anxiety bubbling up and making my hands shake.

There is a long pause before the door opens. My last remaining confidence starts to falter until can't take the further rejection anymore. Turning around, start to head back the way came.

“Can help you, Spitfire?”

freeze at the sound of the man’s voice. t’s deep and husky, as though he has been drinking whiskey since he could walk. The intoxicating sound has a hold on me, rendering me speechless as turn around to face him. A breath escapes me at his appearance.

His dark features play perfectly against his sharp jawline and his chestnut eyes look like they’re peering deep into my soul. He starts to walk towards me, channelling confidence and authority in every step he takes. Stopping about a foot in front of me, he towers over my small frame, an interested smirk emerging on his face.

“Are you the owner?” ask, managing to keep my voice steady as try to ignore the perfectly tailored grey suit that is straining against his muscles.

"One of," he replies and beckons me through the same door had knocked on. hesitantly follow him in and become breathless for the second time in two minutes. My eyes flicker around the room, taking in the leather and dark wood interior which fits perfectly with the exposed brick walls.

However, my mind becomes paralysed as notice two other men in the room. Like the first man, the other two are also around a foot taller than me.

One of the men is perched on the front of the desk, wearing a white shirt with black suit trousers. There are a few buttons undone from the top of his shirt and tattoos threaten to explode from underneath it. His hair is a lighter brown than the first and his eyes are a deep blue. He also stares deeply into me but has an inquisitive look on his face.

The last man demands the most attention from the room. He sits in the large, leather office chair behind the desk in the centre of the room. His darker grey suit is also perfectly tailored against his large body and his black hair enhances his stubble. He leans back in the chair, with a menacing glare plastered on his face. The glare is directed at me.

Oh god.

This was a bad idea.

Oh well.

Quickly, snap out of my daze and clear my throat, " assume you are the owners."

A smirk plays on the second man's face as the first man takes a seat in front of the desk.

"Take a seat, Spitfire," he nods to the seat next to him. awkwardly shuffle over and sit down, crossing my leg over the other as try to force an ounce of authority into my body.

The third man clears his throat, and notice my black skirt has slightly ridden up my thigh and is peeking through my coat. pull it down and try to stop the blush spread across my face as look into his eyes and see them grow dark.

"... wanted to speak to you all about your bar vacancies," stutter, trying desperately to recover my confidence.

"They've been filled, sweetheart," the second man crosses his arms, not taking his eyes off me for a second.

shuffle in my seat. " understand that, but have been rejected from so many jobs, and am sick of it. There is no one that works harder than me and all 'm asking is that you give me a chance," smile shyly, "n fact, who is in charge of your recruitment?"

" am," the man behind the desk states.

My stupid confidence returns. "Well, gotta say, you really do judge a book by its cover. n fact, where do you get off rejecting me when am so obviously qualified to be a bartender. mean seriously, you hire blondie downstairs, but am a no go? mean if anyone should be rejected from a job..."

"'m going to stop you right there, Miss..." he leans forward in his seat and rests his arms on paperwork on the desk.

"Winters. Hazel Winters," give him my best smile.

"Spitfire," the man in the chair next to me chuckles under his breath. look at the other men and see smirks on their faces too.

"'m sorry, missed the joke. s something funny?"

"Not at all, Miss Winters," the third man's smirk disappears, "What role did you apply for?"

"Bartender, already told you that," mutter, rolling my eyes.

" wouldn't roll your eyes at us again, Darling," the second guy directs to me.

"Very well, Miss Winters, 'll give you a test," the guy behind the desk smirks at me as he leans back, "if you can guess our go-to-drinks, we will give you the job.”

pause and blink at him.

Wait, did storming in and giving them a piece of my mind actually work?

f am going to work for them, that's probably something they shouldn't reinforce with me.

sit back in my seat and sigh, faking defeat, "well have only just met you all but if had to guess... would say the Plane Enthusiast to the right of me loves a negroni on the rocks. Ol' blue eyes would probably opt for an old fashioned whilst you would simply choose for a bourbon neat."

sit back in my chair as watch their eyes widen.

mean, it was so obvious what they drank as soon as saw them.

"Give her the job, Atlas," blue eyes looks at his, assume, friend.

"Plane Enthusiast?" The man to the right of me asks.

"A Spitfire is a plane, and you keep calling me it, so assume you identify people by planes," sigh, waiting for the final decision. sit in silence, still determined not to leave without a job.

"Fine. The job is yours, Miss Winters. Your uniform will be sent to your address. assume we have your details since you have already applied, but if you act like this whilst on shift, will have no qualms about punishing you," Atlas warns.

"'m Theo," the man leaning against the desk says to me, "and this ‘plane enthusiast’ is Dawson."

"Thank you so much. Honestly, don't know how long the ￡30 to my name would last me," sigh in relief and rise from my chair, " will see you all for my first shift."

They all nod, and walk out of the office, waiting until the door shuts before taking a deep breath and internally screaming in happiness.

Maybe ’ll be able to pay rent this month.