Page 49 of The Cocktail Bar
Chapter Twenty-Five
RIVER
River fixed himself a Frisky Bison, anything to take the edge off Alice’s sudden and nonplussed stance with him. What was all of that about upstairs? Georgina looked perfectly fine to him, if she was at death’s door then how come she’d taken the rubbish out? Despite being brought up solely by one, he still found the Venusians impossible to work out at times. Add to that the almost melancholic fact that his mission was nearing well and truly accomplished, and a cheeky sip at a tipple on the job was pretty much excusable.
“What’s in that then?” Lee quizzed him. “And shouldn’t you yourself be staying dry when you’re behind the bar?”
“Liquid alcohol apple pie… and normally, yes, but this is something I’m sampling as a potential newbie to the menu… and I haven’t got time to do it during the week.”
“Not convinced, about either.”
“Always good to break out of your taste buds’ comfort zone, Lee; if it wasn’t for innovation the only cocktail being served up anywhere would be the monotonous Mojito.”
“The idea of drinking pie is one thing. What I’m talking about is your stress levels; they’re visibly through the roof, mate. What’s up?”
“Just some staffing issues, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“You know, I never thought I’d say this and don’t you dare repeat it to a soul… but I couldalmostsee myself doing something like this in a couple of years,” Lee cupped his hand to the side of his mouth to whisper then, “something like you are.”
“What, drinking on the job, or you running a bar?”
“I meant the latter, and why in the hell not? Take it as a compliment, bud. You’ve opened up my eyes to new possibilities. I was even saying about it to Jonie the other day. This cocktail malarkey is growing on me… embarrassingly… or perhaps not embarrassingly, nothing wrong with being in touch with your feminine side nowadays, most blokes are at it.”
“See, that’s what makes me laugh.” River shook his head as if to add to the education he was about to bestow on his friend. “The cocktail, in many of its guises, and especially if not respected, if downed like a succession of wine glasses, well, it’s the strongest alcoholic drink you’ll ever encounter. The dressing it up with umbrellas and fruit thing is simply a ploy… might make it come across as all innocent, pretty and feminine, but if you don’t know what you’re doing you’ll soon figure out it’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Are you going to take my order at some point this evening or give me a history lecture?” snapped Lee.
“All right, keep your shirt on. So what’s it to be then?”
“Well, there’s one little attraction in your menu that’s got me totally stumped… and that’s this one… now, where is it again?” Lee flipped open the menu with such showmanship that River grabbed it off him. “Hey, why’d you go do that?”
“I know the one you mean and I haven’t got the ingredients,” River began to panic, realising what an idiot he was making of himself but more than mindful of the fact that other customers were too close for comfort. If Lee was going down Magical Mañana Street as well tonight, he’d have to remove the cocktail from the menu immediately thereafter. So the last thing he wanted was for the trail of drinkers behind him to follow in his footsteps and plump for the same thing. And wasn’t that just the way everyone behaved when they saw the puddings deposited at the neighbouring table in a restaurant? A cocktail bar, as River had more than witnessed over the years, was no different. It rendered people option-less once the seed of another’s choice had been planted.
“River? Are you alright?” Lee looked flabbergasted.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s cool. Just chill, Lee.” River caught his breath again and realised he was the only one needing to chill, as well as coming up with something sensible to say – and fast. “What I mean is,” he began to whisper now, “don’t say the drink out loud else you’ll give everyone else the same idea… and I don’t have enough ingredients to make more than one!”
“Sounds like you could use a stocktaker. Blimey. I’ve seen some right sights at the supermarket over the years, frustrates the hell out of me. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the basic model of ye olde supply versus demand though.” He shook his head pitifully.
“Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep your CV on file.”
“Perhaps you’d better. Right, well, I best get back to Jonie before somebody thinks they can muscle their way in with a cheesy chat-up line. Looking forward to my drink… oh and a Sea Breeze for the missus… I mean, the lady.”
“Coming right up,” River jeered through a forced smile.
He fixed up the new arrivals’ orders first: Everything from Coco Fizzes to Little Tickles, and thankfully not the remotest loiter of a fingertip mid-menu, he asked Alice to mind the bar so he could ‘replenish some stock’, and then he ran, as fast as his legs would carry him to the skittle alley, for the second time that night, creating a brand spanking new character for the Roger Hargreaves collection in the process – Mr Undercover Dodgy Barman.
Two hours later, after last orders had been taken, two sets of ten globules had safely been deposited in two glasses, and Alice had mysteriously insisted upon walking home on her own – something River was loath to let her do, and so had called his Aunt Sheba, who needed no convincing that she should ‘just happen’ to be passing by in her car, so would Alice like a lift – and River was on his second Frisky Bison. It had definitely won a place on the menu, conveniently replacing the Magical Mañana, which he was now tearing from the saddle stitched seams, along with a mountain of blank pages, relegating hope to history in the paper bin.
He sat cross-legged on his favourite couch, taking in his surroundings anew, each sip seemingly heightening his awareness of his achievement. It was the only way he could round off what had been the most perplexing day of trading since he’d officially opened the bar. If only he’d finished his degree in Psychology, then perhaps he could delve into the minds of those around him, understand what was going on. He mentally listed the people who surrounded him, each one an enigma of their own making:
Terry – he’d start off with Lover Boy because he’d royally turned River’s perception on its head. What was his problem with same sex relationships? He wouldn’t be tolerating any more of that kind of inequality in this establishment – under hushed tones or not. What was it with half the population of this supposedly free-loving town not getting with the times and embracing one and all?
Blake – and where in the hell had he disappeared? First his sister started working here; then his father took to drinking here… not to mention sucking the face off Heather, an act which was beginning to turn River’s stomach now too, in light of the evening’s revelations. Lest he forget Lee’s growing intrigue for all things spirit based, something that had to surely be akin to poking a large grizzly with a stick. And yet Blake was completely off the radar, something which made zero sense. A fact which implied something shady was about to reveal itself. How could it not? A bear with a sore head only hibernated for so long.
Georgina – she seemed to be getting the message that hadn’t yet been spoken: their unofficial entanglement was in the deep freeze of the cooling off period. And as for the period pains, she’d need to man up or get out; a thought which more than rattled his cage as its very sexist undertone was probably proof enough he was the son of one Lennie. But he couldn’t get conned into letting her take time off every four weeks, the bar was gaining in popularity now, they all needed to muck in and carry that momentum forward.
Lennie – there was another bear with a sore head whose imminent presence wouldn’t let River relax, whether indeed this one turned out to be Daddy Bear or not.
