Page 57 of Glass Half Full
The busser leaves, and five minutes go by. Then ten. Then fifteen. I glance at the clock and then at Sam, where he’s actually started pacing up and down behind the bar. We’re under orders to close up only once the last customer leaves, but this is ridiculous. Taverne Toulouse is just losing more money by the second.
Since the guys ordered from me, I make the executive decision to go over and ask them to settle up.
“Hey, guys,” I greet them. “How’s it going?”
They gaze at me with hazy eyes; they’ve all been here for a few hours and a few beers.
“Are you coming over to kick us out, baby?” one of them drawls as the others laugh.
“Not quite yet.” I force a grin. “I was just wondering if you wouldn’t mind settling up now. You’re free to stay and finish those beers, though.”
Until Sam gets so frustrated he channels his inner Hulk and carries you out the door.
“No chance of getting another one, eh, doll?” the same man asks.
These guys are older than the usual Taverne Toulouse crowd, with stiff button-up shirts on and suit jackets thrown over their chairs. I thought I’d have to deal with more shit as a female bartender, but this is the first time a customer has ever called me ‘doll.’
“Afraid not,” I answer, my smile getting tighter by the second. He already knows he’s not getting more beer. We did last call at midnight.
“You can’t even grab yourself one and come join us, beautiful?”
“Afraid not,” I repeat. “Are we paying cash or card tonight, gentlemen?”
That puts an end to the flirting—if that grossness even counts as flirting. I eye the tip percentage on the receipts, and I’m almost tempted to give them the amount back in cash when I see how high it is.
A big tip doesn’t mean you get to call me doll, and it certainly doesn’t mean you get to call me baby.
It’s late, though, and while I may not have a booty call waiting for me, I’m almost as ready to get out of here as Sam.
“Thank god,” he mutters when I return with the receipts in my hands.
He hovers behind me as I start my tip out and only stays quiet for a minute before clearing his throat. “Hey, uh, I know we’re technically not supposed to ever have less than two people here, but these guys are heading out now, and I’ve really got to get going. I need to check on my girlfriend. She’s been feeling all weird and dizzy since this morning, and now I haven’t heard from her in a while.”
The hint of panic in his voice makes me look up from my receipts. I notice the worry lines deepening in his face and the way he’s still bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“I know she’s probably just sleeping or something, but she was going to tell me if she went to bed,” he continues, eyes darting to the clock. “I tried getting a hold of her best friend to see if she could go over, but she’s not answering either. I just really need to make sure she’s okay. She was so out of it when I saw her this morning.”
His hair is sticking up from pulling on it so many times, and I don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. I totally understand.”
Heisright about not being supposed to leave. We’re not allowed to have less than two people here. Ever. It’s a safety rule that I’ve heard drilled into all the new staff members more times than I can count, but the shift is practically over.
I glance over at the table where all three men are on their feet and tipping their bottles back to down their final sips. They’ve quieted down since paying, and they do seem to be heading out. Maybe I’m just being paranoid, looking for something to get anxious about when there’s nothing there.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I can stay if you want.” Sam all but winces while making the offer.
“You should go,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine, and I’m sure your girlfriend will be fine too, but you shouldn’t have to wait any longer.”
“Thank you so much, Renee.” His shoulders drop with relief, and he looks close to throwing his arms around me. “I know we’d be gone soon anyway, but this is driving me crazy.”
“Don’t worry about it. These guys will be out the door any minute, and I’ll lock up as soon as they leave.”
Sam takes off to grab his stuff from the back, thanking me three times in a row when he returns and heads for the door. I wish him good luck and then watch as one of the men at the table, the mouthy one, shakes hands with his friends and heads for the bathroom.
Hallelujah. They’re on the move.
