Page 19 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“You break it; you buy it.” Natasha strolled up after putting in a customer’s food order. Since it was a slow weekday, she pulled double duty as a server.

“You got any requests?” I asked her, up for the challenge.

A sinister smile crested on her face. I knew she would bring it. “I’m going to pretend to be a customer.”

“Awesome. What can I get for you?” I asked, putting on my serving tone of voice.

She waddled onto the stool. “Oof, I had a rough day. It’s not easy working when you’re seven months pregnant.” She puffed out her stomach and massaged her pretend baby bump.

“Congratulations! Do you know what you’re having?”

“Vodka soda.”

“Funny. I meant boy or a girl.”

“We’re keeping it a surprise. Vodka soda.”

I realized she was being serious. I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Umm…” I looked to Mitch, who watched on stone-faced, then to Natasha, who drummed her fingers impatiently. This had to be a trick question. I wasn’t going to be fooled. “Miss, why don’t I just get you the soda today.”

“No, I asked for a vodka soda.”

“You’re seven months pregnant. I can’t do that. That would get the bar in trouble legally.” I nodded at Mitch like yeah, I got this.

“Stop,” he called out.

“Nice try, Natasha.” I snickered at her sabotage. “You thought I was going to fall for that?”

“You should have,” Mitch said. “You were wrong.”

“What?”

Natasha pointed and laughed at me, her cackle strong with victory.

“But she’s pregnant!”

“And if you refuse to serve her, that’s discrimination, and she could sue.”

Natasha hopped off the stool and did a victory dance. “Unfit mothers for the win!”

I tried to process that bonkers piece of information. “So if a visibly pregnant woman comes in here and asks for a Long Island Iced Tea…”

Mitch shrugged. “That’s the law.”

“That is fuuuucked up.”

“That’s the Constitution, bitch.” Natasha tapped on the bar. “I’m still waiting for my vodka soda, dude.”

Before I could serve said vodka soda, her table flagged her down, and she was gone in a flash. A polished man with slicked hair took her place, removing his peacoat.

“Hey, Leo,” Mitch said. “What brings you in?”

“I just had a two-hour meeting over new recycling bins. There are people complaining they shouldn’t be forced to recycle, that it’s somehow an infringement on their rights.”

“That’s why we re-elected you, Mayor. To put these shitheads in their place tactfully.” Mitch clapped him on the shoulder and shuffled behind the bar. His body smushed against mine to get by, and an unexpected rush ofsomethingcoursed through my body for a millisecond.

---