Chapter 4
Alex
I was actually dying.
No, not thinking it. I was. My feet were screaming at me, my head was pounding, and fuck, my ears were ringing.
How did I used to do this every single night?
Bending over that sticky bar, trying to decipher some drunken teenager’s slurred order over the blasting speakers, was my literal definition of hell.
Finally, I thought I understood him, and I started pouring three J?gerbombs. Even if that wasn't what he said, that was what he was getting. I swung the card machine around; he tapped it without fuss, and I watched him stumble away, trying to balance the three plastic cups like a tipsy toddler.
Mia bumped my hip and placed a shot in front of me, as if neat vodka were the magical cure for all my troubles that night.
I was utterly exhausted. I hadn't had class until 11:45 that morning, so I had forced myself to take a decent lie-in, knowing I'd be working that night and the next day.
I wouldn't be getting out of there until 1:30 a.m. at the absolute earliest, so I was trying to be sensible. But those extra hours of sleep hadn’t helped one bit. Maybe the vodka would.
I downed the shot as I started pulling pints for the next round of lads at my till. It was so busy that night that Mia had barely found time to throw any teasing remarks my way, which meant, yes, that night was pure, distilled hell.
I hastily checked the clock on the till as I charged for the pints: just two more hours. Then we would close, and all those drunk arseholes would either head over to Amor or collapse into the gutters. Either way, they wouldn't be standing in front of me anymore. Thank fuck for that.
I took the next shot Mia handed me without even thinking about it.
This was my third in the last hour. I had a genuine feeling I might not make it out of there before my shift started again the next day.
At least I was chugging water, too, because I didn't actually want to be paralytic that night. Just numb.
Oh yes, the vodka helped. It helped to muffle the ache from constantly leaning over the bar, feeling the edge dig into my front every time. It helped to keep my face neutral instead of snarling at every drunk guy or gal who stared at my tits. I was not in the mood that night.
A cute blonde bouncing up to the bar caught my eye, and I grinned as I tapped my code into the till.
“Hey, stranger.”
“Oh my gods, hi!” Holly beamed, leaning eagerly forward on the sticky surface.
“Sweetheart, far too many drinks have been spilled on that tonight. Don’t ruin your top.” I gently eased her elbows off the bar top. She chuckled, moving her arms back obediently. I smiled at her. “What can I get you?”
“Pink gin and lemonade!” she positively beamed.
Of course that was her drink. I chuckled and set to work, pouring her a double because why not.
I tossed in a handful of dark raspberries, slapped a sprig of fresh mint to release the aroma, and crowned it with a pink paper umbrella and a berry on the rim just to be extra.
I passed it over, then unceremoniously kicked Mia’s shin.
“Ow! What the fuck!” Mia spun around, clutching a scoop of ice.
I dramatically bowed towards Holly, who was happily sipping her gin. “Mia, this is Holly.”
Mia looked at Holly, connected the university dots, and her expression shifted. “Hey!” Mia quickly finished the drinks she was making, charged the woman in front of her, and then gave Holly a quick once-over. "Nice to meet you, I'm Mia.”
Holly smiled sweetly. "Nice to meet you too! Wow,” she stared wide-eyed at Mia. “Alex was right, you are a goddess.”
Mia smiled wide, shooting me a knowing grin. She looked back at Holly. “Well, thank you, sweetie.”
Holly blushed fiercely and sipped her gin, looking back at me. It didn’t take a genius to realise this was not her first drink of the night; I hadn’t yet seen her this genuinely giddy. She looked down at her glass and gasped. “Oh shit, I haven’t paid.” She fumbled with her phone.
“Don’t worry about it.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Go have fun.” I turned to the next customer. Holly hesitated, then squeaked happily and toddled off toward a group of women near the booths.
Mia hip-bumped me. “Well, she’s adorable.”
“I know, right? Too precious for this world,” I laughed as I poured the wine that was ordered—the cheap, nasty shit.
A sharp CRASH behind me made me wince, and I shared an instant, knowing look with Mia.
The bar wasn't very long, but that night there were five of us serving at every till: me, Mia, Ben, and two other newbies who I currently wanted to strangle. Mia’s eyes flickered toward the shattered glass on the floor, but she decisively didn't intervene.
She was the supervisor and technically in charge of those idiots, but we both silently agreed to let the fumbling fresher attempt to scoop up the broken glass with a dustpan and brush.
If they didn't learn how to handle those rushes then, they were never going to survive that job.
Ben, bless his heart, moved to help them, and Mia snapped at him, sharp and immediate. “No, Ben. Leave it.”
He shrank back instantly, jumping to his till to serve the next customer. I shook my head. That guy was just too damn nice—much like Holly.
I looked over to her, watching her laugh with her friends near the booths.
A strange sense of responsibility washed over me now that my Economics table partner was actually in my bar.
I wanted to make sure she was okay and genuinely having fun.
I knew what some of those nights could descend into, and someone like Holly, too precious and bright, could be scarred by some of the shit I had seen in there.
Mia handed me another shot to celebrate the last hour of our shift.
Holly had been back to the bar a couple of times, ordering her pink gin, and I hadn't acquisition charged her once.
Mia just rolled her eyes; for a supervisor, she didn't really give a shit when I sneaked out free drinks.
Holly giggled every time and thought it was hilarious when I pointedly charged her friends.
She seemed to be having a good time, and I noticed Mia checking on her too—with her height advantage, she could see over most of the crowd, unlike me.
Some lads approached Mia’s till with matching cheeky grins, clearly thinking they were the shit. Mia smiled, asking for their order, and one of them leered at her, cockily answering, "Are you on the menu?"
Original. Knobhead. I glared at him, but Mia didn’t waver. Her smile turned darker. “Oh, I’m not on the menu. So, what drink can I get you, or will you be stepping aside so I can serve someone else?”
His friends laughed at his failed attempt, and I carried on serving my own queue. Mia could handle herself well enough, but given a chance, I’d have launched myself over that bar if one of them had dared to touch her. The guy was a complete sleaze.
I realised with a sickening jolt that he reminded me of Mr. Hubbard.
Gross. He was clearly a teenager with way too much confidence, dressed in a button-down shirt and chinos—trying way too hard.
He thought he was the shit, and he absolutely wasn't. I could smell his cheap cologne from where I stood; he’d sprayed way too much, as if that made him more appealing.
Thankfully, they took their pints and left her alone, but not without the sleaze giving her a final grin and checking out her curves.
I eyed Mia; she just shook her head, rolled her eyes, and started serving the next customer.
As I poured out a cider, I watched the sleaze-ball, my grip tightening on the bottle a little too hard as I saw him approach Holly.
Nope. Fuck no.
I desperately tried to stay on top of the growing line of customers as last drinks were called, while simultaneously keeping one eye glued to Holly.
Her friends were still with her, thankfully, but I could see the way she was grinning and swaying slightly.
She was too drunk at that moment to recognise what a creep that guy was.
I shared a tight look with Mia, who had also noticed. Her back had gone poker straight, and she was smiling less at the customers, not even trying for tips as we kept a unified watch on Holly.
The bar finally died down as it crawled toward 01:00. I felt like I could actually see again. My head was still banging as the music rang out, but the vodka shots had muffled the ache just enough. Thank God I had forced myself to drink water, so my head was still clear.
A cold, icy poker stabbed my chest. I scanned the thinning crowd and saw that sleaze—the one who reminded me of Hubbard—with his arm draped possessively around Holly.
Worse, I couldn't see her friends anywhere.
Had they fucking left her with him? He was grinning, whispering something close to her ear, and she looked completely lost, swaying slightly, having no idea what he was saying.
I didn't think. I just moved. Mia was right behind me.
“Sweetheart,” I said, my voice dripping with excessive sweetness as I yanked Holly away from the guy. She beamed when she realised it was me and immediately wrapped her arms around my neck. Mia instantly stepped right between us and the sleazy guy, who now looked utterly furious.
“What the fuck?” he practically yelled.
“Bar is closed,” Mia said simply, meeting his gaze, standing eye-to-eye with him.
“The room is spinning,” Holly whispered into my shoulder. Fuck. I was so glad I had intervened; this sweet girl was completely pissed. I gripped her waist firmly and angled us slightly, pulling her even further away from the creep.
“Yeah, and we’re fucking leaving!” He snarled, answering Mia and trying to reach for Holly. Mia easily stepped in, blocking him completely. He stumbled slightly, and the few lingering patrons finally noticed the scene—most just stared or hurried out. The general public, ladies and gentlemen.