10. Dylan
Chapter ten
Dylan
“She’s terrible.”
“I know,” I mutter, glancing at Dee, who’s wiping down wineglasses at the other end of the circular bar.
“But I need you to help her,” I beg Vicki, my bar manager and the new owner of an IOU from yours truly.
“She’ll get it.” Dee nearly drops the glass as she tries to hang it on the rack above the bar, but catches it at the last second. “Eventually.”
“She’s already broken two wineglasses and she defaults to making Long Island iced teas when she forgets what people order. I’ve had three complaints already and had to remake the drinks. She’s going to cost you overages out the ass.”
“I owe her, Vic. Truly, she saved my ass with a place to crash while I nail down an apartment. And she needs this.” I give her my best sad-boy look and throw in a little pout for good measure.
She sighs and pushes off the bar with a huff. “Don’t use those puppy dog eyes on me. You’re going to need them when you have to explain to Ed why you had to buy more wineglasses this month.”
Yeah, the owner might notice, but I’m not worried.
A crash sounds from the opposite end of the bar, behind Vicki.
Okay, maybe I should worry.
I peer past Vicki to find Dee, hands fisted next to her ears, shoulders bunched up tight, staring at the mess of broken glass at her feet.
“It’s exactly what I think it is, isn’t it?” Vicki says quietly, eyes closed, slowly shaking her head.
Dee grimaces, slipping her hands behind her back as she starts gently toeing the glass aside into a neat little pile. “Slippery little fucker,” she mumbles. Dee continues nudging the glass around before she spots the broom and dustpan underneath the bar and begins sweeping up the mess.
I rock my head from side to side. “Maybe not exactly what you’re thinking.”
“Liar,” Vicki mumbles. “I’m going to storage to get another box of glasses.” She sighs loudly. “We’re going to need them.”
“Thank you, Vicki,” I call after her.
Dee finishes sweeping and gives a nervous glance after Vicki before tiptoeing over to me.
“She’s not mad, is she?” She wrinkles her nose, and for a second, all I can think about is how cute she is like this.
I know the bold and brazen Dee. This Dee?
A little shaken, a little vulnerable, and leaning on me? She’s new. And I find her…captivating.
“It takes a lot more than that to piss off Vicki. You’ll get the hang of this. She’s the best bartender and trainer I’ve got on staff.”
“You forgot that I was fired from my last gig, huh? This may very well be as good as it gets.”
“Then we’ll buy plastic wineglasses.”
She pops her hips to the side, dropping her fists to rest there as well. “Dylan,” she scolds.
“Deanna.”
“You are actually somewhat important here.” She whispers the word, like it’s a secret that I’m the general manager. Or she can’t believe that while I may be a mess in other areas of my life, I actually have my shit together at work.
“Are you implying that I’m unimportant elsewhere?”
She doesn’t take the bait. Instead, her face is serious as she says, “If you get in trouble for helping me out with this, I’m going to feel like a really shit friend.” She drops her head into her hands, resting her elbows on the bar top.
“Dee, it’s your first day and it’s a wineglass.” I brush off her concern entirely.
“Three,” she corrects me.
“Three wineglasses.” I lift her chin, needing to see her. When I do, I see it. Everything catching up with her. “I have customers who manage to do the same with a single swipe of their arm. Stop stressing. You’ll figure this out, then you can focus on the next big leap.”
Her chin quivers and I worry that I may have pushed her too far. Maybe she wasn’t ready to be thrown into this so quickly after being fired. It hasn’t even been a week.
“Okay, I changed my mind. Don’t be nice to me, it’s making me want to cry for some reason.” She pulls back from my touch, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Go sit in the office for a few,” I say. “Take a reset.”
She gives a grateful nod before making her way toward my office backstage.
“And Dee?”
She pauses, stepping to the side to look at me, her eyes glassy.
“You’ll find your footing. It’s going to work out. Okay?”
She nods again before hurrying off toward the back.
Fuck. This is too much. What did she say about the last interview? Was it something that happened then, or is the wineglass just the proverbial final straw?
Dee and I are friends.
Obviously, friends don’t like to see friends struggle. But that watery gaze she leveled me with before retreating to the safety of my office…it’s stirring something in my chest, and I can’t make sense of it. I wanted to hold her. I wanted…fuck, I wanted to comfort her in ways that we don’t.
“Ooooooh, I get it now,” Vicki says with a shit-eating grin as she places a box of brand-new wineglasses on the bar top. “You like her.”
“I like all my bartenders, Vicki. Because they’re the best.”
“Ah-ah, none of that pretty boy, sweet-talking crap with me. She means something to you.”
I rub the base of my neck. “We’ve been friends for years, Vic. I don’t like seeing her upset.”
“Humph.” That seems to be enough to satisfy her for now, because with a curt nod, she moves, unpacking the stemware. “I’ll work with her. You don’t need to worry.”
Relief flows through me. Not that I worried Vicki wouldn’t agree, but she’s the longest-standing bar staff and truly my best trainer. If I want to give Dee the best chance at feeling confident, even in a temporary way, I need Vicki’s help.
“I owe you one.”
“I’ll take you up on that one day.”