Page 43 of My Soul for Sale

My sentiments exactly.

“I’m gonna get ready for bed. Early day at work tomorrow, don’t forget.” I leave the room and shut his door.

I need to figure my own shit out before we see her, and I don’t think it’s something that can be unraveled in just a couple of days.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sloane

I should have taken the week off, because all I can think about is all the things I wanna do at my house. My arms are like noodles still and my abs are sore as hell; it’s like I did the sit-up test from high school gym class.

Exhaustion weighs heavily over my shoulders as I step behind the familiar space of the bar. Despite being tired, there's an undeniable warmth that fills me when I get to work each shift. This job—it's more than just a means to pay bills; I love bartending. I never wanted to go to college or really knew what I wanted to be when I ‘grew up’. But here, within these four walls, I found something I love.

There is only one downfall to working at the Iced Rose and that’s my coworker. Trina is the worst, and sometimes I envision shoving her face into the glass washer and drowning her.

When I got here a bit ago, she greeted me with her normal iciness. She also usually can’t wait to get out of here, but today she bellied up to the bar, ordering drinks like she had nowhere better to be.

“I’m ready to pay my tab,” she shouts, even though I’m standing a mere foot away from her.

“Okay, let me tally it up for you.” I smile.

“Weren’t you keeping track in your head?” she sneers and I raise a brow at her because who the fuck does that? One, we don’t normally do tabs, since this is a cash bar only, but since she fucks the owner, she gets special privileges.

“It’s thirty dollars even.” I ignore her.

She slides a twenty and a ten across the bar, smirking at me. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” I smile.

“Can’t wait to hear how the rest of your night goes.” She licks her lips as she looks at me wickedly.

What does she know that I don't? And why does she seem so smug about it?

My mind swirls with questions, but before I can think too long about it, Kevin saunters out of the back from his office and Trina smiles. Sliding off of her stool, she slinks up to him and wraps an arm around him.

“You ready to take me home, baby?” she coos, and I gag internally at the thought of them together.

Kevin doesn’t answer, just smiles a toothy grin and leads her out of the bar. Before the door closes, he turns and yells at me. “The Busch Light keg is empty! Can you tap the new one?”

“Yeah,” I call back.

Not sure why tits for brains couldn’t, but I’m sure it was either too much work for her or she doesn’t know how. Either way, it’s not a big deal. It only takes a short time and I’m sure someone will be in and want a draft.

Thankfully, the evening rush hasn't hit yet, granting me the time to head to the cooler and swap them out.

Disconnecting the tap from the keg, I pull it out of the cooler chest, setting it on the floor.

“Anyone need anything before I go to the cooler?” I call to the few patrons who are still in here.

No one says anything, so I take that as my cue to get it done. Carrying the empty keg to the back, I drop it by the back door and grab the new one from the walk-in. It’s heavy as hell, so I put it on the little roller cart we use. It looks like one of those little square things you rolled on in elementary school… the ones we all ran our fingers over on.

I shudder at the memory but start to push the keg out behind the bar.

The television plays softly in the background, and I can only pray business picks up a bit, so it’s not me and whatever shitty movie is on later. Boredom is the worst at this bar. When no one is in here and all the cleaning is done, I just sit and watch the TV, counting down the seconds till I can close.

Positioning the tap over the keg's valve, I press down firmly to pierce through the seal, twisting to lock the tap into place. Now, I just need to get this heavy bastard into the cooler and I’ll be done.

Grunting as I pick it up and slide it into the cooler, I see-saw it back and forth until it’s in the perfect position and shut the door. Grabbing a glass, I pull the tap lever, pouring some beer to release the pressure and minimize foam.

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