Page 8 of Kings of Decay
I braced myself for whatever my first shift might throw at me and walked towards the bar.
Behind the bar, a mountain of a man stood like a king watching over his court. He was the kind of burly that comes from decades of hard work, not the gym. His face was a map of time spent outdoors, weathered and lined, with a thick, salt-and-pepper beard framing a gruff, but not unkind, smile. His hands, large and calloused, moved with surprising deftness as he poured a pint, the muscles in his forearms flexing beneath a faded Paydirt t-shirt. He’d been the owner here for thirty years, according to Dad, a fixture as permanent as the worn wooden bar itself.
His bushy eyebrows pushed together as he noticed me walking towards the bar. “Ah, Miss Willow?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Nice!” He extended his hand and shook mine with the force of a giant. “I’m Todd. Nice to meet you. Your dad’s a good fella.”
“Thanks,” I managed to squeak before he started rambling about his bar and showing me around.
Now that I’m up close, I recognize him as the bearded guy who helped my dad get Harvey out of the snow and sobered up. Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Harvey since.
“Alright then, let's get you acquainted with Paydirt." He led me behind the bar, the worn wood creaking under his weight.
"This here's the heart of the operation," he explained, gesturing to the rows of bottles and taps. "You'll need to know your way around this." He started pointing out the different liquors, beers on tap, and the basics of pouring a decent pint.
It's a lot to take in, but I tried my best to focus, scribbling notes in the small notebook I brought.
Next, he showed me the storage room, a dimly lit space packed with crates and kegs. "Inventory's key," he emphasized. "You'll be responsible for stocking the bar and keeping track of what we're running low on."
I nodded, feeling a bit overwhelmed but determined to prove myself.
Finally, we returned to the bar. "Now, the most important thing," Todd said, leaning in close. "These folks are like family. Treat 'em with respect, and they'll do the same for you. But don't take no nonsense either. You gotta hold your own in this place."
I took a deep breath, the weight of his words settling on me. It's a lot to grasp on my first day, but I'm ready for the challenge. "I understand," I said, meeting his gaze. "I won't let you down."
He gave me a curt nod. "Good. Now, get behind that bar, and let's see what you got."
Chapter six
Willow
The first hour of my shift passed in a blur as I got acquainted with the stock behind the bar.As much as my Dad’s comparison to bartending and being a barista annoyed me, it turned out he had a point.
Two hours in, I was sure that drunks were actually easier to deal with than a tired, overworked businessman.
Todd slapped the bar beside me, jolting me from my thoughts. “I’m gonna go out for a smoke, alright?”
Although it was phrased as a question, I had no control over what he did, so I just nodded.
“You gonna be ok here by yourself for a few minutes?”
I nodded again, glancing out at the patrons, all consumed in conversation with fresh drinks all around. “I’ll be fine.”
Todd shuffled towards the storage room, leaving me alone for the first time since I started.
Just as the door closed behind him, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
I got called in. I won’t be able to pick you up. You good to walk home?
It was a text from my dad.
Sure.
I lied to him, but what choice did I have? I couldn’t stay at the bar all night. I’d just have to suck it up and walk home in the cold.
My mood instantly soured, and I went back to drying pint glasses.
