Page 135 of Every Beautiful Mile

“Sorry about that,” I mumble, refocusing my attention. “If you’re having fun, your guests are more likely to be having fun. According to the sales, your guests are drinking beer and basic cocktails. Specialty drinks make up a very small portion of orders. Fancy cocktail techniques will serve no real purpose. People aren’t expecting fancy martinis when they walk in these doors, right?”

They nod in agreement.

“So, what we are going to do is add some play in how we make basic cocktails—rum and coke, gin and tonic, vodka and cranberry—starting with how we get ice in the cups. We’ll start easy and work up to something harder.”

I pick up a piece of ice with tongs and toss it from behind my back, sending it flying over my shoulder to the front of my chest, where I catch it in a glass.

“Hey-ooooh!” one of them calls with a fist up to his mouth.

I grin and hold the glass up. “Let’s start by just tossing it up in front of you and catching it, then we’ll go from there. Any questions?”

They shake their heads, but instead of boredom, they’re now eager.

“Okay, get to work!”

In an instant, they are tossing ice, laughing at themselves and each other. The owner, leaning in the doorway on the other side of the bar, lifts his chin and smiles before walking away.

The pride that starts to burn is doused out by the overwhelm that comes with the vibration of my phone in my pocket.

Again.

I rip it out and stare at the unknown number before sending it to voicemail.

It makes seven.

Seven voicemails in three hours requesting more information about scheduling consults.

Two weeks after the magazine article came out, my life is being catapulted into an alternate universe. I knew there would be an impact, but I’m drowning as I try to navigate it. Phone calls, emails, and Marin’s social media inquiries blur together on a never-ending to-do list. This is what I wanted, what I got, and now I can’t handle it. It’s a frustrating kind of defeat.

“Got it, Nel!” a voice calls from behind me as ice clatters against a glass, and a cheer follows.

I press my finger against the power button and turn my phone off. I’ll have to deal with it, just not now.

“Excellent! Let’s try it with a partner.”

Then, I toss another piece of ice into the air.

***

“Hey, Mom, how did it go?” Marin’s face fills my screen as I sprawl across the hotel bed.

“Hey—good. It was fun. They were a little dead in the beginning, but I think by the end, they got a lot out of it.”

“You look tired.” My parents flash behind her on the screen with a wave.

“I am.”

My eyes drop to the notebook with names, cities, and dates scribbled across it.

“I have a list of people who have reached out to me and no clue when I’m going to call them or how I’m going to schedule all this.”

She shrugs, saying, “Hire someone.”

It doesn’t make much financial sense yet, but with my sanity on the line, it’s the best idea I’ve got. If someone else can deal with scheduling and emails, I can just focus on the work I want to do.

“I might have to.” I look back to the endless list next to me again. “Where’s Finn?”

“Practice.”

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