1. And Now…
And Now…
Shaking my cocktail shaker and my ass, I let myself get lost in making the best Sidecar the customer in front of me has asked for; I love my job.
Before Elodie, joined me in New York a few years back, she had been bartending in some high-class Los Angeles bar, managing to learn a lot and save up funds to move to New York, where she moved in with me, from there we came up with a dream to one day open a bar of our own.
Sure, I didn’t know anything about bartending, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t learn and add ideas of my own.
After high school, I followed my dream and went to art school, from there I started working in tattoo parlors, where I was able to hone my artistic skills, eventually I was able to rent a booth at a popular shop, where I started becoming requested for larger pieces and not just the usual pretty butterflies on the shoulder shit.
Look, I love butterflies, but it gets to be tedious always hearing that butterflies are my spirit animal.
I was beginning to build a good reputation for myself when Elodie moved in with me, and we came up with a joint dream of opening a speakeasy with a tattoo room in the corner surrounded by windows, a drink, and a show idea.
The windows would have automatic shading when the client either didn’t want to be on display or was getting inked on a sensitive area.
Once we settled on the name, HautGrlz Sips, we started working on our business plan to present to the bank for a loan, then scouting locations.
We definitely knew we wanted the hard-to-find but not too hard location, we planned on the whole secret door with a big burly guy at the door and everything.
If we were going to do this, we were going all out.
I even started by changing my look for a more pinup style.
The fun part was that I would change my hair color depending on my mood.
I had about twenty wigs in retro fashion and outfits to match.
I was all in on this. But as life often does, it got in the way of our dreams by way of our mother, that woman who birthed us but couldn’t bother to raise us.
Mommy dearest reached out to us on a stormy Sunday night.
We had kept in contact with her, but we just weren’t close, like we didn’t go home for the holidays or anything like that.
When my brother was on leave, he would come hang with us.
It took a bit for me to forgive him for abandoning us when he joined the military, but he explained that he was leaving so that he could build a better life for us; he just didn’t expect to get deployed to another country to fight in a war that no one agreed with.
That was a rough couple of years, but we all survived and are close again, except for Mom.
She always called to yell at us about this or that, until that Sunday night.
She was calling to tell us that she was sick, had been sick for a long time, but didn’t want us to know; she was crying and telling me and Elodie how much she loved us, but she understood that she had failed as a parent.
That after our father died, it was too hard for her to be around her three children because it only reminded her of what she had lost; her husband.
Even though Dad was a drunk and drank himself to death, he was the love of her life.
We were just a constant reminder of her loss, not our loss, just her loss.
Mom always was a selfish bitch, until she passed away two weeks later.
See, Mom was calling from her bed at a hospice residence.
After she passed, our brother Glenn arrived in town with the unfortunate news of her passing, but in a final attempt to make everything right, she had a very healthy portfolio and life insurance policy, leaving each child with almost a million dollars each, not including the cash that was in the house under the bed.
I kid you not, Mom believed in diversity of her funds but didn’t fully trust financial institutions.
It was something her parents had instilled in her when they immigrated from China, and then there was Dad, who kept everything in the bank.
Between the two of them, me and Elodie could open HautGrlz Sips without having to take out a massive loan.
Glenn had gotten reassigned to New York; it looked like the family was back together. Thanks, Mom and Dad.
“Gigi, how long are you going to shake that drink? Geez, the way you’re shaking it, I would think you’re making scrambled eggs or something.
” Snapping out of my thoughts, I just glare at Elie.
She may be my sister and best friend, but hot damn is she a bitch to work with.
“Eli, shut up and do you what you do, and I’ll do what I do.
” Dumping the ice from the martini glass, I pour and garnish the Sidecar before serving it to the hottie at the end of the bar.
There are perks to being a bartender at one of the hottest bars in town and a very popular tattoo artist in New York, first no one here knows me by any other name than Gigi and second I get my pick of guys and gals to take home at the end of the night, sometimes it’s one of each or two of each, no shame in being a greedy bitch.
Just as I’m about to put my best flirt forward with the hottie at the end of the bar, the front door opens, and in steps a woman who looks like she’s had better days.
Poor baby is sopping wet, hair matted to her face, mascara running down both cheeks, her jacket his hiding nothing from the imagination; she looks lost and hopeless too, this has my protective instincts kicking in, but before I can get to her, Elie is there with a towel and pointing her towards the restroom.
Before I can get pissed at Elie for being a clam-jam. I have to remind myself that she’s only into men, that Elie is just being Elie, very sweet and nurturing towards everyone. Coming back to the bar, I ask Elie, “Everything alright over there?”
Looking up at me with a sad smile, she just nods her head and says, “Be nice to that one, she looks like someone just kicked her puppy.”
Scoffing in offence, “When aren’t I nice?”
She stands there with her hands on her hips, “I’m serious, Imogen, be nice.”
Oh no, she did not use my full name. “What the fuck, Elodie!” But the drowned rat steps out of the restroom, giving me my first real look at her, and that’s when I have a horrible sense of déjà vu. Oh fuck!
Before I know it, Elie is grabbing my arm to hiss in my ear, “You will be nice to her, I can sense somethings happened to her.”
Yanking my arm out of her grip, I adopt a sickening sweet smile and say, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head. All customers are treated equally; until they aren’t.”
I hear my name being whisper-shouted before I toss a napkin in front of Quinn, my tormentor from the past, and say, Tough day, honey?
What can I get you?” Her eyes flick over my face as if she knows me, but I’m confident that she won’t recognize me at all.
Today I’m wearing a bright bubblegum pink beehive wig with a purple bandana tied around the back with the knot up front, make-up is all glitter and bright colors that are opposite to my naturally dark complexion, my costume for the day is a play on Rosie the Riveter except that my deep plum coveralls are sleeveless, showing off my full sleeve of colorful tattoos and the We Can Do It ends with a wink with a flirty sexual vibe.
My favorite piece is my belt; if you look really hard at it, you’ll see woven into the rainbow design, are various sexual positions.
Digging in her purse, she huffs, “Yeah, you could say that.” Finally finding what she was looking for, she begins to twist her hair into a messy bun before holding it in place with a fancy-looking clip.
Being the perfect bartender, “Aww, why don’t I make you a drink, and you can tell me about it? Does that sound good to you, honey? Is there anything you don’t like to drink, or will it be a bartender roulette where I mix up the perfect drink to help take your worries away?”
Laughing with what I hate to admit is a beautiful tinkling sound, she says, “What the hell, work your magic. At this point, I’ll drink anything.” Well, challenge accepted because I aim to get this bitch drunk so that I can teach her a lesson in how to treat people.
This is really not how I saw my day going.
After four mixed whiskey drinks for Quinn, she is still upright; color me impressed.
My shift ends in about forty-five minutes, when Quinn starts to show the signs of being on her way to drunk, it’s taken me five drinks to get her right where I want her.
It’s the perfect opportunity to fully get my hands on her and her tight tits.
Whoa, where the fuck did that thought come from?
I am not here for anything but to fuck with the bitch’s mind.
Besides, Elie has been keeping a close eye on me to make sure I don’t do anything terrible to poor Quinn.
Elie doesn’t know everything that Quinn did to me.
She didn’t suffer the same torment I did; she was kind to everyone, and everyone loved beautiful Elodie, but not me.
I was a prime target because I was quiet and plain.
“Hey, Elie, I’m going to clock out. I don’t have any bookings tonight, so I’m just going to move Quinn to a booth over in the corner and keep an eye on her.
” This gets me some serious stink eye, sighing with my hand on my hip, “I’m just keeping an eye on her, making sure she’s not too wasted before she heads home. I swear.”
Marching up to me, Elie gets in my face to hiss, “Imogen, if you mess with her, I will kick your ass. I’ve been watching you and see how stiff you’ve been mixing her drinks; Do.
Not. Take. Advantage of the situation. Do you hear me?
I know she was a complete bitch to you in high school, but it was ten years ago, and you’re better than that. ”
Rolling my eyes, I walk around the bar before sidling up next to Quinn.
“Hey, babe, how are you doing? You’ve had quite a bit to drink, I should know I served you all of them, do you want to go home yet, or do you want to sit with me over in that booth over there?
” Looking over my shoulder where I’m pointing and back at me, she does a slow blink, licks her lip, and nods before grabbing her drink and walking directly to the booth.
I look at Elie and stick my tongue out at her before grabbing Quinn’s purse and following her.
I’ll order a drink from one of the girls once I get settled.
Quinn and I didn’t talk a whole lot while in that booth.
We did do a lot of eye-fucking, though. I always thought she was sexy, but her fucking mouth got in the way and made her ugly.
However, tonight I truly appreciate how naturally beautiful she is.
Grabbing my hand that’s on the table, she slurs, “I want to fuck you.” I would normally take a girl home and ride her face until the sun comes up, but not this girl, not in this state.