Page 4 of With This Lie

3

Dani

To be fair,I understand why my manager is always so pissed off when I arrive five minutes late for nearly every shift I’m scheduled to work. I live almost right above the bar (only one set of stairs over and up). In my mind, I can just walk out of my apartment at the exact time I should be at work but I always forget the amount of time it will take me to lock up, get down the stairs, and walk the one hundred feet to the little bar.

“You’re late again, Dani,” he says.

Calvin is a decent boss being that he is mostly good and mostly fair. I have no complaints and while I hate disappointing him, that disappointment lasts all of ten seconds each time and then I’m over it.

“I know, and as always I’m sorry but you love me and you forgive me and oh look there’s a customer in need! Gotta go.” I slip past him in the narrow kitchen hall and in behind the bar.

If I have learned one thing, I know Calvin will never chastise his employees in front of our patrons and we all take advantage of it. Sometimes I feel bad for him. Calvin managed to get us above-average wages, never has issues giving us time off, and even covers our shifts when no one else can. Someday I would make up for all my tardiness but today isn’t that day.

“You’re late again,” Quinn says.

I turn to Flannigan’s second-best bartender and study her perfect face. When I moved to this side of Lexington and started working here three years ago, Quinn was the first and only person I befriended. I couldn’t say what it was about her that I attached myself to. We are polar opposites in so many ways. Perhaps she keeps me closer to level than I would be on my own.

“Shut up,” I say. I tie my small black apron around my hips and start wiping down a messy area on the bar.

“Can you check my hair for me real quick? I feel like I’m getting a weird ripple right here,” Quinn says, pointing to a section of the front of her perfectly straight hair.

If there was a ripple, it was imaginary. I pretend to take the matter seriously and stare at her hair for a second. “I think it looks fine.” I smile.

“Are you sure? Maybe I should put it up,” she says, stroking the supposedly rippled section of her hair over and over again. She studies her face in the mirror behind the rows of liquor behind us.

“I promise it’s fine. We have a long night ahead of us, so if you could stop with your hair, that would be peachy.” I roll my eyes at her in the most loving way.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m done,” she says, still stroking her hair down.

Quinn is the epitome of perfection. No, I don’t mean she is actually perfect. No person is. I mean she strives for it, craves it. She is a perfectionist in her marrow. But not in an annoying or vain way. Somehow, it is endearing and adorable. I think it’s because you can sense the goodness in her, the kindness. She is always cheery, always polite. After all, perfection isn’t about actually being perfect, it’s about the act of perfecting.

I watch her for a few more moments. She’s patting herself down as if she were a small bird attempting to unruffle her feathers. I nicknamed her “bluebird” a very long time ago, and am frequently reminded why.

I’ll be here until close so I know I might as well settle in. That’s a long nine hours from now. It’s time to put my smile on and remind Quinn why I call her the second-best bartender here. Truth be told, I’m sort of an asshole, but I’m flirty. I like flirting and the men like me flirting. Many of the customers that frequent here are “happily” married men stopping by for some alcohol on their way home from work. Some come for their weekly “guys’ night” while others are the type that don’t even give their wives the decency of a text message letting them know they’ll be late. Whatever their reason for being here, my job is to make sure they have a good time. I hate people for the most part, but I don’t mind flirting my way to better tips. And besides, every married man who turns to putty in my hands at the bar is just another reminder as to why I’ll never get married myself.

The dinner rush is slow and steady. We serve pretty good bar grub here. So while most are busy eating, it slows enough for me to leave Quinn for a moment and I step outside for a break. I use the alley in the back instead of out front because too many people know me and the last thing I want on my break is to spend it chatting with a customer.

I slide my cell out of my pocket and check my messages.

Mark: I’m seeing you later, right? I’ll stop by your work and we can go back to my place?

Mark: Hello?

Mark: Dani??

God, he’s needy. I can’t imagine this Mark thing lasting much longer. I get the impression I’m a little more of a free spirit than he wants. He needs someone compliant, someone submissive. He needs someone who doesn’t take up too much space and I make it my prerogative to take up a shit ton of space in any situation.

Me: Yeah, sounds good. See you later.

I don’t even wait for a reply. I put my phone back in my pocket and rub my neck. Standing all day sure makes more than just your feet ache. I close my eyes and twist my head back and forth. I would take advantage of the jet sprayer in Mark’s shower later. I feel my phone buzz inside my pocket and decide not to pull it back out. I don’t have the energy for live texting at the moment. I will respond later, on my next break.

I go back in to relieve Quinn for her break and start welcoming in the after-dinner crowd. They are usually livelier, so we try to get our first breaks in before they’re in deep. I am welcomed in by the familiar scent of Dan—a regular that wears his cologne too thick and his toupee too crooked.

“Hello, love,” I say.

“How are you today, my darling?” he asks.

Dan is a kind man and as his bartender, I know all his stories. Dan was in the war. That’s all he would say about it. I assumed he meant Vietnam. It’s the only war that made sense. After that, he got a small place and married a pretty woman named Norma and they were together for nearly sixty years before she passed away. They didn’t have any children. Norma couldn’t. So they traveled a lot and saw the world together.

---