Page 1 of Eat Me

Chapter One

Victoria

Giving my practiced fake smile to another customer spitting out lewd comments, I sit his drink in front of him and move on. I've been a bartender for many years and comments about my body aren't new. This may not be the most glamorous job, but it pays my bills, and no real education is required.

Not finishing high school limits my job options. I should get my GED, but I would need to study, because school was a long time ago. The issue is that to study means taking time I don’t have. I have three jobs, two part time jobs and they border on full time most of the time. On top of those I have a float job where I do gigs to make extra money a couple times a month. It doesn’t leave me with a lot of free time, but at least I can pay bills and afford to eat three times a day.

My head snaps up as I hear the door open and a cold draft sweeps through the room. “Welcome...” Pausing as I turn around and face the main room, I see it’s one of my regulars.He’s an older man in his late sixties, maybe even early seventies. His hat hides his gray hair. He has sharp features, but his dark green eyes seem cold and distant.

“Welcome back sir,” as I greet him, as I grab the Bourbon he usually drinks. He always has the same drink, sits in the same seat and wears the same facial expression. It’s always on repeat the moment I see him, Bourbon, seat at the end of the bar, moody old man. He’s been coming in a few times a week for almost a year.

His name is Viktor Andreev, he was sure to tell me that his name is spelled with a K. I prefer to call him sir, as calling him by his name makes me feel awkward.

“Good evening, Victoria.” He gives me a small nod in greeting as I sit his drink down in front of him. I’ve told him several times he can call me Tori, but he says a beautiful name should be used properly.

He seems to be a nice person, at least from what I’ve learned about him over the last year. He’s strict with firm beliefs. He’s also one that doesn’t tolerate rude behavior. That’s something I’ve seen firsthand. Someone was yelling in my face once, he was here and approached us. He never raised his voice or spoke a word, but the man stepped back and ran out of the bar. Talk about impressive. I can only wish to have that kind of power.

I can feel his eyes on me as I rush to the other side of the bar to where the till is to close out someone’s tab. Finishing that task, I move to my normal station to clean. The bar is mostly empty being that it’s the middle of the week and the fact that it’s almost closing time. This place really needs to be updated and the fact that we no longer sell food is a huge customer complaint.

“You’re looking very tired compared to normal.” His rough voice startling me nearly causes me to drop the glass I’m cleaning. Trying to hold back a wince and give him a smile.

“You know, it isn’t nice to talk about a woman's looks,” I tease, but I know he can see behind my smile, as he shakes his head. I know there are bags under my eyes and that my blue eyes probably look dull due to a lack of sleep.

“Women should sleep since it’s good for their health, like any human being.” He raises an eyebrow at me as if he was interested to hear my comeback. I respond with a huff because he’s right. I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep this last week. Going back and forth between my two jobs and a few gigs, I’ve only been getting maybe two to three hours of sleep a night. Definitely not good for the body.

“I’ve worked a lot this week, and sadly, money doesn’t grow on trees. I shake my head at myself and continue to clean a couple of glasses, then putting them away.

“Have you thought of settling down, so you don’t have to work long hours anymore? Having a good man can give you the affordability to be able to stay home. No need for long hours with no sleep and no worries.”

His comment causes me to tilt my head to the side in curiosity. I know he’s old fashioned because he’s made small comments in the past. He has the mindset that women shouldn’t have to work and should stay home with the family. It’s not something I would be against, depending on the circumstances, but I do like being able to make my own money. I may want a man to provide for me, but I don’t need one to provide for me. I’m very independent.

Letting a small chuckle escape, “I am fine. I don’t need someone to care for me. I have been getting by just fine.” As in everything is paid, and I can eat. There’s not a lot of extra money for anything else, but that’s not any of his business.

He makes a low humming sound, “You’re single, correct?” Something about the tone of his voice makes me pause andglance at him cautiously. Something in the back of my mind is waving a large red flag around, but I shake it off.

“I am….” I don’t know why that matters. I plaster a smile on my face as I continue my work, trying to get rid of the feeling of warning my brain is giving me.

He makes that humming sound again, drawing my attention to his face. I’m not sure why, but something about this conversation is making me uneasy and that feeling stays with me as the night goes on. The glint that was in his eyes also causes my brain to scream with warning bells.

I didn’t see him leave, but I knew the moment he left, because I could no longer feel his eyes on me anymore. Giving the bar a visual once over, I see his bar stool is empty and money with a receipt. Walking over to his spot, I smile at the tip he left as I slip it into my pocket. He usually gives me more than the average customer, which I greatly appreciate and need. Every little bit counts.

“Once you’re done cashing out, you can go ahead and head home.” Paul calls over to me from serving another table. I pause at this, glancing at the clock I see it’s past the normal time for me to leave. Thank God. My feet are once again killing me, but I have tomorrow off. I plan on sleeping in, and rest my body, if I can.

“Will do! Thanks!” Taking the cash, the receipt, and going through the motions of closing my register out for the night, I make sure everything is counted and correct before taking the money to the locked office to hand everything off to the manager. I will be home free once they count the money with me again.

“Knock knock.” I chirp as I enter the office. Setting the bag of money I’ve already counted and sorted on my manager, Devin’s, desk. He gives me a shake of his head as he looks me over.

“Heading home? You look exhausted.” I give him a look as I feel a bit self-conscious, now that this has been said more than once to me today.

“Do I look that bad? You are the second person to tell me that today.” I mutter loud enough for him to hear.

Devin gives me a shake of his head again. “You just look tired. Like you pulled a couple too many all nighters.” I internally cringe at his comparison, but I haven’t been sleeping well so I guess it really does check out.

“I have been really busy, you know how life is.” I’m so tired I fake a small smile. He knows I have other jobs and makes sure to schedule around them, which helps me a great deal.

“Just try to actually get some sleep.” He tells me as he starts to count the money. I sigh at his words. He’s not wrong either. I do need sleep.

“I don’t work at all tomorrow, so I plan to sleep in and catch up on errands.” I get one day off every two weeks I make sure to keep. I have to do grocery shopping and run around getting things done. It may not be the best way to spend a day off, but it lets me catch up on things I’ve gotten behind on.

---