Page 29 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“It’s my first Mai Tai.”

“Are people ordering Mai Tais at the Stone’s Throw Tavern?”

“You never know. I want to be prepared.” It was mostly beer and basic mixed drinks I served, but one of Natasha’s customers ordered a mojito. I liked the challenge of learning complex drinks.

“One of my top students is getting bullied.” Amos dipped his straw in his drink. “She was talking to me about it. Kids and parents look to the school to do something about bullying, and sometimes, I want to say violence is the answer, you know?”

“Dude, I’ve lived my whole life being short. I know about bullies. But I learned to charm them. Make ‘em laugh and make ‘em like you against their will.”

“Not all of us can charm people against their will.” Amos sipped more of his drink. “Are you going to drink your Mai Tai?”

“Huh. I don’t know.” It was pretty watching the dark rum infuse the liquid, like an art exhibit meant to be undisturbed.

“If you’re not, then I’m drinking alone, which is sad.”

I had gotten so used to making drinks for others and not having them myself that I forgot I was in my home and could imbibe without getting reprimanded by Mitch.

Mitch, the burly bear who looked more like a cuddly cub when he fell asleep, and I tucked him in. He looked…cute? Guys could think other guys were cute in certain circumstances, right?

I kept looking back on that night in his house all week. More than his alleged cuddliness, I thought about how I talked about my aimlessness and anxiety aloud with somebody for the first time. He sacrificed his entire adulthood to keep his bar afloat. I would be nothing less than a five-star employee.

“I think I will join you.” I sipped my Mai Tai, and my tongue mentally applauded me for the job well done. Usually, I wasn’t one for sweet drinks, but damn, did that taste good.

“Are you working tonight?” Amos asked.

“Mitch doesn’t want me working the Friday night shifts yet. I don’t know if I’m ready for them yet.”

“I think you are.”

“In due time.” I wiped rum splatter from the counter. My bartending skills extended to keeping the kitchen very clean, which Amos appreciated.

“Then what are you up to? Did you want to go out?”

I spun the rum bottle on the counter. I hadn’t been out since I moved to Sourwood. Did that mean I was a workaholic? “Sure. It’s Friday night!”

“I’m meeting up with my group of friends.” Amos hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward. “We’re going to Remix. It’s a gay bar.”

“Cool.”

“Are you cool with going?”

“Yeah.” I shrugged my shoulders. “There’s a first for everything.”

A night out was a night out. It wasn’t as if my friends in Manhattan were texting me to come down to the city to party with them anymore or even to see how I’m doing. We used to meet up after work and rage through the night—with me generously picking up the tab.

“It’ll be fun. It’s always a scene.” Amos chuckled to himself. Teenage Charlie would’ve been shocked to know his teachers went out drinking. “Excellent for people watching.”

“Is what I’m wearing okay?” I held out my arms to show off my usual henley and jeans.

“Oh, yeah.” Amos sipped his drink. “If you were a bartender there, the guys would happily give you their tips.”

I tilted my head, wondering if Amos was talking about money.

* * *

Wereit not for the rainbow flag waving and the music pulsing from inside, Remix would’ve been any old building in downtown Sourwood. By day, it was sandwiched between a shoe store and a hardware store. It was squat and brick with a blacked-out front window for privacy. Remix was written in futuristic-looking red letters above the door. A small group of guys smoked cigarettes outside the entrance.

Amos was very correct: what I wore seemed okay with this crowd. I could feel their eyes on me, and I didn’tnotlike the attention. They reminded me a little of the way Mitch looked at me when I first came into work.

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