Page 16 of Killian
Ellie
The bar crowd was great.Drinks were flowing, music playing, and people mingling about. I fed off the energy of a busy night. While sometimes this also led to fights because testosterone-fueled men with a mix of alcohol and women in the audience made for a prime set up to see whose dick was bigger, I still loved a crowd.
When I was young, my grandpa would bring me here, sit me on a leather-covered stool, and I’d listen as he talked with his friends and poured beer. There was always laughter and music. He loved this placea little too much, according to my mother. She felt her father loved the bar more than her, but she wasn’t there to hear him talk about her.
I’d listen as he told his friends how great of a mom she was and how he was so proud of her. Once, I tried to tell her, but she blew me off. That was my mom, though. She was set in her ways, and changing her mind about anything was impossible. It was also a reason I didn’t speak to her much. It wasn’t worth the hassle. We weren’t close, but there wasn’t animosity between us either.
I wanted this place to come alive once again, to hear the laughter and pool sticks making contact with the cue ball before sending another ball into a pocket. Just a bit of happiness for others to let loose. My memories were so strong here, and this place was part of me through and through.
For seven years, this place had been my home away from home. While it wasn’t true that I loved this place more than the people in my life, it did hold a special place in my heart.
Trying to bring the bar back from being uninhabited and in foreclosure wasn’t easy. So much time, energy, and tears went into making The Drunken Monkey what it once was. My grandfather’s vision. His life’s work. We had made some serious upgrades to the place, but it held a lot of that old-time bar feel.
I was proud of this bar.
Greeting people as I made my way to the back of the bar was a challenge because I knew almost all of them. They wanted to catch up, ask you questions, or just hang out. It was a tight rope to walk with people. To be friendly, but not spend five hours in a conversation about chili. Yes. That could happen and had happened here. Considering cooking was not my strong suit, it was painful.
Making it to the edge of the bar, a smile crossed my lips. My bartenders were awesome. There was no other way to put it. Aiden was a beautiful brunette who could mix five drinks at once and never miss a beat. The guys loved her, and so did the women for that matter. It had a lot to do with her low-cut shirts. Add in her upbeat personality, and she was a keeper.
Carter was my showman. He came to Brookeville from Florida where he worked in a bar on the beach. Why he came here and wasn’t on the damn beach I’d never know. I could almost feel the sand between my toes just thinking about it.
He was so good at the theatrics part of making drinks. He could send a bottle shooting up in the air, catch it behind his back, turn three times all the while picking items up, then stopping and putting the drink together. In all the years I had been slinging drinks, I had to admit Carter was top-notch in skill. He knew the perfect pour to keep the customers happy and the bar making a profit. I had been through enough bartenders early on to know if a barkeep didn’t watch the pour, they could bankrupt the business. Every single drink was a science, and Carter was more than a mad scientist. He was like a circus ringleader, always in control while giving the best show.
Carter was a sight. Everyone fought for a seat at the bar, just to watch Carter do his thing. The tip jar was always full by the end of the night.
Nothing better than a register full and people having a good time. Business was good. No, business was great, and I counted my lucky stars for that. I didn’t grow up with money, but with great determination I pulled myself out. I wasn’t rolling in the cash, but I was comfortable. That was all I’d ever wanted. Just to not worry about the bills getting paid and food on the table. Simple.
Cheers went up as Carter put the finishing touches on the drink and slipped it to an older woman. She handed him some bills while he winked at her, and she blushed different shades of red. Yes, he knew how to work it.
Lifting up the hinged wood, I made my way behind the bar.
“Hey, boss lady! How are ya?” Carter yelled over the music.
“Good. You?”
He winked, giving me his answer. While I wasn’t a showman like Carter, filling drinks was cathartic. It might have sounded strange, but getting a list of drinks, whipping them up, and setting them out was like a hot bubble bath. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my bubble baths, but doing the drinks centered me.
Therefore, I got to work.
The bar was crushed with drink after drink needing to be made. So much so, the hours went by like minutes and the crowd never thinned.
Behind the bar, I danced to the music and belted out the lyrics to some of my favorite songs from time to time. Singing wasn’t my strong suit, but I couldn’t deny the pull to a good song. It was just a good thing the music was loud enough to drown me out. I didn’t care, though, because my job was fun.
Life was too short to not have a good time. If you could make money having a good time, it was even better. That was how I felt about this bar. It wasn’t work; it was happiness.
Around eleven thirty, the night got interesting.
After filling an order with some of our top shelf whiskey, I turned around and lifted my arm to put it back on the shelf. The entire back of the bar was glass with only a few shelves. Sketched in the glass was The Drunken Monkey logo. I loved it.
I turned around to the bar and stopped dead. Killian was sitting smack in front of me wearing a cocky grin. It was so damn sexy, I felt my nipples get hard. Thank God for padded bras. He didn’t need to see the evidence of the effect he had on my body.
Next to him on either side were two other men, both looking at me expectantly almost like they knew me, but I hadn’t met either one before. Somehow with the men in front of me, the bar felt small. Like they swallowed the expanse of the place.
“Hey,” I said, moving up to the bar and shaking off the power they all seemed to carry. I wasn’t a woman who easily rattled, hot men or not. “What can I get ya?”
Those sapphire eyes pinned me to the spot, and I felt it like a physical blow. His gaze had an intensity that locked me in place. It took me a moment to shake myself out it.
Pull yourself together, woman!
