Crossing the Picket Line #3
Two Manhattans later and a third one in front of me, I still haven’t seen a menu. But I cannot stop laughing as Ashton recalls last weekend’s beer fest to everyone around us, including the moment when the town mayor disrobed and fell in the river.
“Seems he started a trend, because soon the entire festival became a sort of nudist revival, everyone drinking beer and splashing their bits in the river.”
“I was there,” one of the guys calls out.
“I thought that was you. I didn’t recognize you with your clothes on.” Ashton shoots me a side grin as the room erupts in laughter.
And me? I’m seeing double, but happy about it.
For the first time today, I don’t feel the weight of the town’s wary eyes on me.
I feel included, and that’s a good feeling.
I mean, not that I care what this town thinks of me, not like they even matter.
But this is a whole hell of a lot better than being rejected.
“Another Manhattan?” Ashton asks, pushing my glass at me. I shake my head.
“I’m a two-drink minimum girl. One more, and I’m bound to be dancing on this bar top, and maybe even recreating last week’s beer fest.”
To this, Ashton throws his head back and laughs. It’s deep and rumbly, and goes straight through me in delicious ways. I distract myself by taking another sip, then flag down Griffin, who actually smiles as he approached me.
“Griff, darling. Could you pleeeease get me that menu. I’m starving, and these damn cherries are delicious, but they don’t make a meal.”
“Sure thing, sweetheart.”
The pet name sounds strange coming from a man who wouldn’t serve me just a half hour ago, but I overlook it as he finally places a menu, plus a fourth Manhattan, in front of me.
The words seem to wave like a flag, but I finally make out a cheeseburger with fries.
I don’t eat bread, and I definitely don’t eat fried potatoes, but both sounded absolutely divine.
And maybe the carbs can sop up some of this alcohol so that the room will stop spinning.
“They’re good, right? Maybe the best you’ve ever had?” Ashton said as he nods at the Manhattan.
“They’re all right,” I lie, picking it up to give it another sip.
I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing they’re at least on par with the OG Manhattans.
Even as a native Californian, my loyalty feels tied to my New York home.
This Manhattan could be a hundred times better than the ones in the City, but I’d never tell him.
“So, do you have a shift on the picket line?” I ask, then lift my chin to eat another one of the cherries.
But when I tilt my head back, I lose my balance and nearly fall off my stool.
Ashton grabs me by the elbow, and I try to right myself, but the whole room is swirling and I end up leaning my full body weight against him.
When I look up, I see the humor has left his expression, a look of concern replacing it.
Or at least, I think that’s what I see. It’s hard to focus with all this noise, my intense hunger, and the fuzziness in my brain.
“I don’t picket. I have too much work on the farm to do,” he says, once I’m seated again. “Hey, let’s get you some water, all right?” He waves down Griffin. “Water, bro?”
“I’m out of glasses,” the bartender says. “I’ll just go in the back and—”
“Here, take this one.” Ashton shoves his drink at Griffin, the beer splashing over the rim onto the bar.
“Whoa dude, relax. I’m teasing.” Griffin pulls a glass from below countertop and fills it with water before placing it in front of me.
“Is that food almost up?” Ashton asks.
“I’ll check,” he says, staring at Ashton for a moment before disappearing.
I sip more of my Manhattan, but Ashton takes it out of my hands before I can finish.
“Hey, I wasn’t done with that!”
He places it on the other side of him, then pushes the water to me. “You also can’t stay in your seat. Drink some water, and eat, and then if you still want it, you can have it.”
“God, you sound like you’re my boss or something.
” I pout, but I drink my water. I have to admit, I’m suddenly super thirsty.
It’s not as good as the Manhattan, but at the same time, it feels like the best thing I’ve consumed all day—which isn’t much.
I finish it off, then push the empty glass aside.
“My boss made me come all the way down here to start planning the designs for the new store that’s going in there. You know what’s going in?”
He shakes his head, and keeps glancing at the kitchen. “No, what?”
“A luxury watch shop. Because what this town needs is some time to move into the future. You know what was there before?”
“A seed shop,” he murmurs.
“A seed shop. A brilliant space full of archteshur… Architcher…”
“Architecture?”
“Yeah, Italian Renaissance arcisher, and it was filled with boring old seeds. No wonder the place went under.”
“Here’s the burger,” Griffin says, then places it in front of me.
I’m pretty sure it’s burnt, judging by the black brick laying on the open-faced roasted bread.
But I don’t care. I grab the ketchup and smother the dark patty, then slap the sandwich together before taking a big bite.
I can barely taste it, but my senses are fired up at the first bite of bread I’ve had in years.
“It’s really good,” I say around my burger, my mouth completely full. I take another bite, a little more aware of the burnt parts, but not completely caring. “It’s a bit overdone, but good.”
“Listen, I’m going to head out,” Ashton says, then takes out his wallet. “Let me take care of your meal. Are you staying at the hotel? Can you walk there okay?”
I smack his wallet out of his hands, then laugh when it lands on the floor.
“Don’t pay for my meal. I got it. I got everyone’s tab.
” I smooth my hair back from my face, wobbling a little as I turn to the bartender.
“Griffin, take my card and charge everyone’s bill to it.
It’s on my boss, for making me stay in this shithole that smells like shit and treats me like shit and is a shit place to stay.
I might as well pay for everyone’s meals since all you clueless country hicks are forced to stay here, and I’m just here until I finish my job.
And god help me, I plan to finish it fast so I can get the hell out of here. ”
I toss the card across the bar, and Griff catches it with a grin. “Well, darling, that’s awfully nice of you. Everyone, Jordy here thinks we live in a shithole, but she’s paying for all your meals.”
The whole restaurant pauses, and then one guy whoops before everyone else joins him in applause and cheers. I grin, feeling like a million bucks.
Until I don’t.
“Oh god.” It’s all I can get out before I lose the little bit of burger I ate all over my beautiful shoes and the concrete floor.