Page 1 of Don't Fall

Chapter One

Tessa

If I hear that bitch giggle one more time, I may punch someone. Not really. Well, not likely. I’ve never actually punched someone. Even if I’ve thought about doing it. A lot. Especially in the last seven hours. I’ve worked here nearly three years, slinging beers and booze five nights a week, but after being gone all summer, it’s been hard to find my groove here again. Provided I ever had it here to begin with. I thought I did. After tonight, I’m struggling to remember how I ever made it through a shift without throwing myself head first into a brick wall.

It’s not so much that I find everyone as annoying as I’m finding Nat and her damn high-pitched squeal tonight, it’s more about how extremely inadequate I feel ten seconds after walking through the doors. I’m the only chick with dark brown hair in a sea of human Barbie dolls. I’m also the only one with my original boobs, my very own, much smaller boobs. Inevitably, this seems to directly relate to my tip jar always being slightly on the slimmer side at the end of the night. That, and I don’t do the giggle. The giggle is where it’s at. I know this. The more I think about this, I realize, I’ve always knowns this. And it’s not like I look down upon the giggle. I don’t. It’s just that in this world where giggle is master, I am its bitch - its pathetic, incapable bitch. One who finds the sight of hard brick particularly inviting tonight.

“Natalie!”

At the sound of Burt’s voice, I automatically look up from running my end of the night reports. He’s the boss. He’s also a lot like Grumpy from the Seven Dwarves. Unless he’s drunk. Then he’s a cross between Dopey and Sleepy. I like drunk Burt best. Grumpy Burt scares me a little. From the look on Natalie’s face, right now, he scares her a lot. I notice she’s no longer giggling either. In fact, her face is stone cold and red hot – contradictory but true – as she ushers the hot dude she’s been letting grope her behind the counter for the last thirty minutes, back out to where the customers are actually supposed to be during operating hours. Half an hour after closing, his ass is supposed to be out in the parking lot.

An angry jerk of Burt’s thumb and we all know she’s being summoned to his office. Things are about to get ugly. He won’t fire her. Even Grumpy Burt is incapable of firing anyone. Unless they have a penis. Then he’ll fire away. But Natalie doesn’t have one of those, so she’s safe.

It takes all of five minutes before she comes storming back out of the office. Tears are streaming down her face as she barrels her way through me on her way to her end of the bar.

“Hey!” I nearly eat it on the nasty floor mats, and what’s left of my fruit tray goes flying, red maraschino cherry syrup spilling everywhere in the process.

Natalie doesn’t care. Nor does anyone else, until she drops a glass by accident and sobs dramatically; shoulders slumping in her state of complete and utter misery.

I’m down on my hands and knees still picking olives out of the holes in the mat when I see both bar-backs and three bouncers rush to her aid. Fucking unbelievable. What I wouldn’t give to own the giggle just for one night.

The giggle is master.

The giggle keeps your ass from picking bits of pickled produce off the floor.

I’ve barely resurfaced with my mangled fruit tray and I find I’m standing face to face with Melissa, the assistant manager. “Can you help Nat finish up tonight? She’s really upset because Burt got on her case for having that guy in here after closing.” She leans in closer to whisper, “Apparently, he’s a freaking cop. Off duty, but still. Burt is livid.”

“I bet.” I dump the disgusting fruit buffet into the nearest sink.

“Yeah.” She nods, her hopeful eyes still waiting for me to confirm my desire to acquiesce to her request. Turning halfway until Natalie lands in my line of vision, I reach up to rub the dull ache in my shoulder. She really slammed into me when she came through. And she didn’t even say sorry. Honestly, I’m not really feeling all that helpful right now.

“Dude, I don’t know. Nat was a total bitch to me all night. She ignored half the customers when she was busy flirting with her cop boyfriend and then accused me of stealing her tabs when I picked up the slack. Not to mention, she about dislocated my shoulder five minutes ago.”

“Tessa, come on. We all know what it’s like to have a shit night. Just go help her out so we can all get out of here.” This time she doesn’t wait for me to agree. Probably because she knows she’ll have to wait forever.

I mutter a handful of my go to obscenities under my breath while I finish cleaning up my own station before I take a deep breath and visually attack the area I’m about to venture into. Nat’s sitting on the beer cooler now, eyes all puffy and her pointy nose twitching as she sniffs loudly every two seconds. That may be even worse than listening to her giggle. Although, judging by the way Tony, the bar-back, and Seth, the new bouncer, are still coddling her, I’m the only one who wants to dry heave at the sound of her snot traveling back and forth inside her sinuses.

“What still needs to be done over here?”

“Ice bin needs cleaning out. Liquor needs putting up, and glassware needs restocking,” Tony answers for her.

“I still need to count out my drawer as well,” Nat adds in a whimper, more to Tony than me. I guess we’re not speaking. Fine by me.

“If you’ve got this, I’m gonna walk Nat out to her car so she can get out of here.” Seth, the new guy, clearly isn’t aware that we all walk out together on weekends.

“Nat can’t leave until we all leave. Bar rule.” Then I take a page from Melissa’s book and avoid eye contact from this point forward to end the argument. I just want to get this done and over with.

It’s after three a.m. when I’m finally getting into my car. I notice my escort left me one row over when he reached his own truck. I don’t blame him. I’m pretty sure my biceps are bigger than his. He was probably safer walking with me than I was with him.

Regardless, I’m on the road and headed home. Home. Sounds almost strange now. It’s the same place I’ve lived since I was twelve years old and first moved in with my great Aunt Edie. It felt like home the second I walked in and knew I was staying. Even after she moved North three years ago to be closer to her children who insisted she needed more care than I could give her, it still felt like home. She still spent the winters here with me, and on the summer days I missed her most, I could call and put her on speaker, just to fill the condo with her voice for a while.

But things are different now. There won’t be any more visits. No more time spent listening to her fill me in on all the newest gossip going around the assisted living complex while I go about doing laundry or cooking, or catching up on school work. Aunt Edi is gone. And somehow, home feels gone too.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady all the emotions attempting to take me down again. Meltdowns and driving make for severely inefficient travel conditions. I know, I had about three on the drive back down here. The first time my speed dropped down to twenty-nine miles an hour for a good ten minutes. The second, a semi nearly took me out when I swerved trying to find a tissue (yeah, okay, so I nearly took out the semi, but size wise, come on, who was taking out who here?!). The last one really did me in. It was so bad, I had to pull over on the side of the road and wait it out. Or, let it out, rather. The only reason I ever got a grip again was because my need to pee suddenly became a more pressing issue than my need to cry. Damn liquids turning my body all leaky.

Stupid tears and stupid sobbing are the reason I had to bypass stopping by the condo and instead go straight to work after an eleven-hour drive. I allow my gaze to dip to the right and take in the pile of bags. Unloading everything from the passenger seat alone is going to take at least three trips. And that’s before I even tackle the back...and the trunk. Which will definitely have to wait until sometime tomorrow. Tonight, all I’m thinking about is what it will take to get me from point A to point Bed.

If I don’t hit any red lights, I can make it to the condo in thirteen minutes. With lights, it’ll be seventeen. Yeah. I’m anal like that. I’ve timed it. I’ll need another twenty (maybe thirty given the luggage trips) to get inside, get showered, pour a glass of water and climb into bed. I’ll catch the end of Frasier. I don’t really want to watch it, I just like the background noise when I’m falling asleep. And I need sleep. Almost more than I need that shower. And I reek of booze and stuff I don’t care to contemplate, so if sleep is competing with shower, sleep is rating higher than usual.

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