Page 6 of Suddenly Entwined

“Hey, Theresa,” I say, fixing my hair back the best I can as I greet the pub's chef in her tiny but immaculate kitchen. You’d never know we’re in the back of an ageing pub owned by an old guy with a serious appreciation for oceanic decor.

“Whatever you’re making smells amazing.”

“Hey! Thanks.” She smiles, lifting a ladle in greeting and dripping sauce down her front. “Meatball Monday!”

The office door off the kitchen swings open and Carl, the owner’s son, leans against the door frame. “You’re late,” he says.

Theresa gives me an uneasy look and turns back to her giant pot of marinara bubbling on the gas burner.

“Sorry, I had an appointment. I’m ready to go.”

“You’re not wearing your apron.”

My teeth grit. “I will be momentarily, Carl.”

Carl’s dad, Marv, is the sweetest man ever but his son is a piece of work. He seems to think that his couple of semesters of business school transformed him into serious management material. In reality, I’m pretty sure he needs a calculator to make change and doesn’t have the next clue about labour laws. But who am I to talk? I can’t even show up on time for a bartending shift.

“Get going then.”

On principle, my feet want to root themselves to the tile beneath me, but I force a smile and turn toward the swinging door that leads to the bar. I need this job and being snarky isn’t how I’m going to keep it.

“Your shoes are wet,” he calls after me.

Right as I open my jaw to tell him it’s fucking raining outside, the door to his office slams shut. He always has to get the last word.

Theresa grabs the mop in a flash. “I’ll clean up the water, Caro. I’ve got sauce splashed on the floor anyway.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I really don’t mind. He sure seems to have it out for you.”

I shrug, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Aw, so he’s only an asshole to me?”

She snorts as I head through the swinging doors, peeking through the porthole windows.

Thankfully, Marv is behind the bar. He’s probably only about ten years older than my own parents, but he gives me total sweet old grandpa vibes. I enjoy working with some of the other younger bartenders too, but the patrons don’t mess with Marv, and that makes for a smooth night. My shoes squeak on the polished floor, and he turns from the till to offer a crinkly smile that shrinks his brown eyes.

“You made it,” he says.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.”

Marv glances up at the old nautical style clock encircled in thick rope.

“Hardly. Just glad you weren’t washed away. It’s raining cats and dogs!”

Total grandpa.

Opposite ends of the bar are occupied by two regulars and people are finishing early suppers at a couple of four tops.Booths line the walls to my left and right, the worn leather shiny beneath the stained glass light fixtures. I snag a black apron from the bin below the counter, tying it snug around my waist.

“I left a little list of things to do if you have time, Caro,” Marv says as he pours a pint from the tap.

“You bet.”

I’ve only been working at The Tipsy Mermaid for a few weeks, but the clientele is nice enough, predominantly local, and most of them tip. Bartending isn’t really the long-term goal. It’s barely my short-term one. But it’s the sort of thing that will help me get back on my feet. Carl usually puts me on closing shifts, which is exhausting, but I’m not full time. A flutter of nerves works its way through my gut at the thought of paying rent on the first of every month.

“Wanna pick the movie?” Marv says, nodding up at the tv.

In sticking with the nautical theme of the bar, Marv likes to keep an ocean themed movie playing at all times. There are a handful of other televisions that play sports and news, but he reserves one particular tv for his silly tradition.

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