Page 26 of Glass Half Full
“But you love me.” She jumps up off the bed and grabs her headscarf from where she tossed it on the floor, then moves to stand in front of my mirror and wind the soft pink fabric into place. “Let’s get out of this house. It’s fall, and there are tasty Starbucks drinks to drink.”
Her love of Starbucks knows no bounds. When we’re not hanging out in my room, we’re hanging out at Starbucks. She’s on a first name basis with all the employees at every location within a five block radius of McGill University, where caffeine and whipped cream are fuelling her studies to become a family lawyer.
“You know, some people consider fall an excellent time to walk outside, go hiking, enjoy the leaves...”
She tips her chin up in the air. “Some people do not have a deep enough appreciation for Starbz.”
* * *
I manageto brush off Tahseen’s insights as typical ‘Tahseen Talk’ until halfway through my shift at the Taverne Toulouse the next day. The fading daylight is still streaming through the windows, catching on the glossy lacquer of the bar and the dark polished floors. The boards will be scuffed with footprints and dust tracked in from the sidewalk by the end of the night, but for now only a few tables are occupied, the couples and small groups speaking in quiet tones.
DeeDee’s using the opportunity to teach me how to do the evening cash out. We have to mime half the steps in the process since actually pushing the buttons on the machine will mess things up for the rest of the shift, so we don’t make much progress.
“Are you getting sick of me yet?” DeeDee asks with a laugh, after she finally gives up and says we can just put glasses away. “You’re probably wondering when they’re going to put you on a shift with someone else.”
“I’ve been hoping for it every day, but you keep showing up.”
She does a double take and then chuckles as she throws me a wink. “Sassy. I like it.”
I grin as I start sliding shot glasses into place. I’ve been feeling more and more at home here. The two weeks since my interview have been a rollercoaster, but just like Tahseen said, it’s somehow made me feel more myself than I have in months.
“I think you just earned your stereo rights,ma belle.”
“Stereo rights?”
She points to where the front of house sound system is set up, just beside the hall that leads to the back. “You get to pick the music for the rest of the shift. We’re supposed to stick to the official ‘playlist’”—she makes air quotes with her fingers—“but on dead days no one minds if we play what we want.”
“I can play anything?”
She tilts her head to the side and ponders. “Maybe not death metal. Monroe would not like it if she came in and heard that.”
“Got it. Anything but death metal.”
I head to the sound system where a beat-up old iPhone used solely to stream music is docked. This part of the bar is always strange to stand in; you can hear what’s playing in the front and what the cooks have blasting in the kitchen. It usually sounds like a garbled mishmash of noise, but sometimes you end up with a pretty cool remix.
I find my account on the streaming app and scroll through my public playlists. I don’t obsessively curate them, but I have a few for different moods. I pick the one called ‘Hanging Out’—they also don’t have very original names—and head back over to start helping DeeDee again.
“This is good.” She’s already bobbing her head to the beat of the first song. “Who is this?”
I’m about to answer when a deep voice from the hall does it for me. I snap to attention at the sound, already tuned into him like a radio station.
“Who’s playing Chance the Rapper?”
“The new bartender is!” DeeDee shouts back. “She got stereo rights.”
Dylan emerges, glancing between the two of us. “What did she do to get those? You don’t give those away easy, DeeDee.”
She whips the towel she’s been using to dry the bar off. “She was sassy.”
Dylan cracks a smile as he looks at me again. It’shissmile, not the small talk smile he’s been flashing me whenever we’ve said hi these past few days, but the real, full Dylan smile that hits me like whiskey—meaning I start to splutter and stammer while a not-as-subtle-as-I’d-like blush creeps into my cheeks.
“She’s a sassy one, that Renee.” He says it to DeeDee, but his eyes don’t leave mine.
I feel the air thicken, the piano notes of ‘Same Drugs’ a metronome to count out the seconds of tense silence that stretch between us. My heartbeat pumps to the rhythm, calling out to join in the song, calling out for him to come closer.
“Ben là!Finally!” We rip our gazes away from each other at the sound of DeeDee’s shout. “That’s a big group. Time to watch Mamma DeeDee make some money.”
She swings her towel over her shoulder and sashays over to the far end of the bar, adjusting the hem of her crop top a little before greeting the group of six men who just walked in with a whistle. I watch as one by one they all fall under her spell. She’ll have them doing tequila shots in no time.
