Throwback

by Zeia Jameson

  “Look, buddy, if you are going to sit there and do nothing but drool all night, you can take your ass elsewhere. That seat is for paying customers only.”

  I give him a stern glare to signal that I mean business. Finally, he clears his throat and looks at the menu. “Um, I’ll have a pint of ah…um.”

  The rowdies at the other end of the bar are getting louder, so I need to try to hurry this guy along. I didn’t know it was going to take him ten minutes to order a drink.

  “We just tapped a good IPA from Colorado. Wanna try it?” He moves his hands down to his pants and wipes them off. He’s sweating. What is with this guy?

  “Yes.” He squeaks out, like a little man child. No one his size should make sounds like that.

  I head over to the taps and grab a glass. As I’m pouring the beer, I subtly look over my shoulder to find him staring at my ass.

  I thought so.

  I walk back to his side of the bar. “Here you go. Maybe this’ll calm your nerves a little. You seem…pent up.” I decide to use a sarcastic line and try to judge his response. I don’t know why I even care but I feel like I need to know what is going through his head. I don’t get a creepster vibe from him and that is very unusual for me.

  Am I so tired that I’ve lost my scum bag radar senses? Maybe I’m weakened by all of the time I’ve spent looking at a computer screen while studying. Perhaps he is playing some Jedi mind trick on me.

  I salt the napkin before I put down the beer.

  “Thanks,” he says as he sits up straight, makes some God awful noise, looks at me and smiles. He picks up his beer to taste it. For a moment, I fear I might have a Tyler Durden situation on my hands—he’s a schizo. At first he was quiet, nervous and sweaty. Now he’s flashing teeth and puffing out his chest like he’s the most confident person on the planet.

  I can’t read him at all. And I also can’t figure out why I’m so intrigued. But I don’t have time to figure out his mystery. I decide to be brutally blunt. That usually scares them away. He’ll finish his beer and leave and then I can get back to my normal.

  I point my thumb over my shoulder toward the beer taps. “Did you enjoy staring at my ass while I was standing over there?”

  He chokes on his beer, “Excuse me?”

  “You were checking out my ass when I was pouring your beer. Did you like what you saw?”

  I put more flirt into my voice than I meant to. I’m trying to scare him away not lure him in. Right? I mean, he is a cute one, and I have a sense that he’s not the run of the mill arrogant pain in the ass that generally hangs out here. He’s quirky, though. I’m interested to see how he answers the question.

  “Actually, I did.”

  Honest.

  But it didn’t piss me off.

  Interesting.

  “A guy who admits that he was checking out the goods. I like that.”

  “Well I didn’t figure you’d be wearing those jeans if you didn’t want people taking a peek. And as long as I’m being honest, you know what else I checked out?”

  Ok, maybe he is a douche. I swear if he says I have nice tits, I’m hosing him with the seltzer sprayer. I lean in towards him. “Yeah, what’s that, stud?”

  I place my left hand on the top of the nozzle, positioned for action.

  Ready…

  Aim…

  “Your eyes,” he proclaims, and I have to take a second to register what he actually just said.

  Wait. What? Did he say…eyes?

  I try not to act shocked. But I am just that. Shocked.

  I disengage the sprayer.

  “My eyes,” I say, as matter of fact as I can, trying to tamp down the surprise. I decide to cover that feeling with a bit of sarcastic, bitchy humor. “Well, that’s new. You aren’t some weirdo eye fetish guy, are you? You don’t have like a bunch of women’s eyeballs pickling in a jar under your bathroom sink, do you?”

  He laughs. And I catch myself thinking about how beautiful his smile is.

  I’ve never considered a man’s smile beautiful before.

  And then, as quickly as I finished my humorous accusation of him being a psychopath, he volleys back a response, “Of course not. That would be ridiculous. I keep the jar on my nightstand so I can see it just before I fall asleep.” Instantly, I laugh. I can’t help it.

  Oh my God, he has a beautiful smile and he’s good at picking up on my humor.

  This is unusual. And quite nice.

  What is going on here? My brain is muddled with thoughts that are foreign to me. Thoughts that almost have me tripping over my own tongue.

  Keep it together, Livy. He’s just a boy, for crying out loud. You have met those before.

  I recover from whatever brain prolapse I was having and respond back with a somewhat forced smile. “Of course. That is entirely more appropriate and acceptable. What was I thinking?” I say, not being able to produce a clever retort. Our witty banter has ended all too quickly, by my feeble efforts, nonetheless, which I’m not used to. Normally, I could one up anyone with quick, whippy comebacks, especially the bar patrons.

  I hear elevated voices from behind me. I have to go do my job now. But all I want to do is stand here and reconstitute my conversation with this guy. This adorable guy with chocolate brown hair and crystal blue eyes. Eyes that happened to be locked on mine. We’ve been staring at each other, motionless, wordless for at least thirty seconds now. There is a feeling in my chest. A pounding.

  What the fuck?

  “Yahtzee!” I hear someone yell behind me and it knocks me back into reality.

  What is wrong with you, Livy?

  “Well, I hope you enjoy the beer. I’m Livy. I have to take care of those drunk bastards over there. Let me know if you need anything, ok?”

  “Sure thing, Livy,” he says and smiles. That beautiful smile.

  I walk back toward the rowdy bunch hoping I can get them to cash out and leave. “You guys ready to call it a night?” They’re all laughing at something when the middle guy looks at me. “Nope. Think we’ll have ‘nother round,” he slurs.

  “And shots!” the guy on the right adds.

  “Come on, guys, I think you’ve had plenty.” I look at their hands, all of them sporting wedding rings.

  “Why don’t you head home to those sweet wives of yours?” Middle Guy’s face changes from happy to dark, “We said we want ‘nother round. And shots.” The last two words come out slow and I hardly understand what he says.

  “How about this? I can cash you out and you can either call it a night or go slosh around someone else’s bar. Those are your choices.” I head toward the cash register.

  “I’m the customer, bitch!” Middle Guy says in my direction. “You’re the bar wench and the wench gets the customers what they want!”

  Great. Fuck it. I’ll cash them out later. If any of them dispute an unsigned credit card slip later on I have justification and video footage on my side. I head toward the opening of the bar and walk over to the drunken assholes. I decide to take on Middle Guy first since he seems the least lucid.

  “Alright, buddy. Time to go. You don’t get to call me names and expect me to let you stay.” With his back toward me, I take his right arm and twist it behind his back and I use my other hand to grab his left ear lobe. This generally produces enough discomfort in people to get them to do what you want them to do. Especially drunk people. I pull him off the bar stool and walk backwards to the entrance. “Come on. I’m not putting up with this shit. It’s way too early in my night for this.”

  “Let go of me, you bitch!” Middle Guy loudly slurs.

  “Will do, as soon as you’re outside,” I assure him.

  I make it about half way to the door when the other two guys approach me, trying to get me to let go. They start pulling at my arms. Middle Guy yelps. I can hear chairs rustling in the background. People are getting uncomfortable or are wondering if they should help.

  “Hey!” I scream at the two trying to pry me away. “Let me exp
lain something. I’ve got a death grip on your pal here. Anything you try to do to get me to let go is only going to make me squeeze and pull harder on your friend. It would be in his best interest if you just follow me to the door and leave with him. “

  I wait for some type of acknowledgement of understanding but I get no response.

  “You heard the lady, fellows. Now, I suggest you take her advice or you’ll have me as a problem too.”

  I look over my shoulder and it’s the boy who couldn’t speak. Man, rather. He’s tall. Taller than me.

  “Fine. Jesus. Just fucking let me go. I’m outta here,” says Middle Guy. After I take a brief moment to convince myself he’s telling the truth and that potential trouble is not imminent, I let him go. He turns and looks at me while massaging his shoulder. “Damn girl, I thought you were going to rip my arm off.”

  “Good. Don’t come in this bar again with that mouth or that attitude. Now go!” I look at his two wingmen letting my eyes deliver the same message to them. At once they all transition their eyes from me to the man behind me and then quickly make their way out the door.

  Once they are gone I turn around and look up at this chivalrous man but I make sure that when I look in his eyes I don’t let on that I might be swooning. Because that was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. No one has ever made an effort to protect me. I try to look generous but not overly enthused. “Thanks. Not sure I could have handled all three at once.”

  He smiled, “I think you could have.” He points to his empty glass on the bar “but I needed a refill and I knew lugging all three of those fuckers was going to take some time so I decided to help out.”

  I don’t want to but I smile and let out a tiny chuckle. “Well sir, would you like another IPA?”

  “Yes I would. Thank you. My name’s Jeremy.” He holds his hand out for a shake. I grip his hand firmly and shake once.

  “Nice to meet you, Jeremy”.

  ***

  7

  Jeremy

  Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition

  “Come on. A drink? Coffee? Some cheesecake?”

  I met Livy last Thursday. I came into her bar and she rendered me speechless by just asking me what I wanted to drink. Then I watched her strong arm a drunk guy from his bar stool and proceed to literally throw him out while his other henchmen gave her shit about it. I have to admit that while that was the single coolest thing I’ve ever seen a woman do, I couldn’t just stand there and watch them treat her that way. I had no doubt she could handle it. Hell, before that happened I was confident she was going to throw me out for not ordering a drink. But I wanted to help. Before I knew it, my whole body had jumped from the bar stool and was hovering over her in no time. I didn’t really think through my actions. It was automatic. I wanted to protect her even though I knew she didn’t need to be protected. I’ve never had that kind of feeling in my gut over a girl before. I don’t even know her. Saying that she’s my bartender is as possessive as I can get but for some reason I wanted those guys to know that she was mine to protect.

  That night of the scuffle, I stayed in my barstool until last call. I nursed two beers after my first one and had a few bowls of mixed nuts for dinner. I didn’t move from that spot all night. Not even to pee. I passed the time with the sports channel on the TV mounted up behind the bar. Livy came over and chatted me up a few times but she was pretty busy most of the night. I couldn’t leave without getting her number. After everyone had filtered out and I was the only one left, Livy walked over to the entrance, dead-bolted the door and turned off the outside neon sign.

  “You locking me in for the night?” I asked.

  “Seems that way since you haven’t moved from that spot in over six hours.”

  Wow, had it been six hours? I looked at my phone to check the time. 1am. Shit.

  “Um, well, sorry.” I stood and my legs nearly gave out because I’d been immobile for so long. As I grabbed the bar’s edge for stability, I tried to finish my sentence “I didn’t want to leave without…”

  By then, Livy was back behind the bar, bringing up a bottle of brown liquid from a shelf underneath. “You drink bourbon?” she asked, as she grabbed two small glasses from the sink rack. She headed towards me with glasses and bottle in hand.

  “It’s not my first choice but I don’t hate it.”

  She poured a generous amount into each glass and slid one my way.

  “No ice?” I contested.

  She was already in the middle of her first sip. Her eyes looked over her glass at me and she slowly shook her head no. Her mouth was occupied but her eyes said a million words all at once.

  It’s free booze, douche bag.

  This is how you are supposed to drink it, moron.

  Drink it like a man, you pussy.

  I’m really glad you stayed.

  I hope you stick around.

  I picked up my glass and tilted it her way first to say cheers. I took a sip. It was smooth but still burned going down. But it wasn’t bad.

  “So, Jeremy, what’s a guy like you doing slumming in my bar?”

  “I’ve never been here before. Someone said you had Stella on tap, usually, so I decided to check it out. Turns out it’s just my kind of spot. Great scenery.” I smiled.

  “We do usually keep Stella on tap. But you didn’t drink Stella.”

  “To be honest, my brain got kind of jumbled when...you…you flustered me somehow. Then you mentioned the IPA. Thought I’d try it. It’s very good so I decided to stick with it.”

  She gave me a little smile. She didn’t blush but her eyes told me that she didn’t detest me.

  After finishing her first glass of bourbon, she pours another. “Well, I gotta clean up so...”

  “You want some help?” I asked on impulse. I figured it was either that or I’d have to go home. I didn’t want to go home just yet.

  “Uh, sure,” she replied with a questioning inflection on the last word. “But I keep a clean bar and I don’t put up with half-assed work.”

  Challenge accepted. “That’s good because I don’t do half-assed work.”

  So we cleaned and then we both sat at the bar and had a few more drinks. We talked for hours and I laughed harder than I had in a long time. She’s got a twisted sense of humor. And her laugh is incredible. We didn’t talk about anything serious or personal, just random stuff. Like how many legs a spider would actually have to break before it couldn’t walk anymore. We decided on three because four would be at the fifty percent mark and would be too much of a burden on the other legs. Or, how the city came up with the crazy design of the little vehicle that the parking meter enforcer rides around in. It seriously looks like some kind of bubble pod that would be jettisoned from a space shuttle.

  The only personal details I learned about her are that she’s going to school and she has a roommate named Sara that also works at the bar. But even though we talked about nothing in particular it was the best conversation I had ever had with anyone. Period.

  Livy looked at her watch. “I should get going. I’ve got class in like four hours.”

  “Damn. I’m sorry I kept you.” I felt bad for keeping her, but I still didn’t want to leave.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl. I can handle a late night and still manage class. I’m twenty-one not fifty-eight.”

  She looked at me but I couldn’t tell if she was teasing me or giving me the what for. Then her eyes softened just as they had done a few times that night “Besides, I had fun. It was nice to talk to someone who wasn’t fall down drunk for a change. “

  “It was fun. But I may be borderline fall down drunk. That bourbon was pretty good but I’m not used to drinking liquor.”

  “You gonna make it home ok?” she asked. Well shit, I thought to myself. I was the one who was supposed to be asking those kinds of questions to her.

  “Oh yeah. I don’t live far from here and I’m not that bad off. The beer nuts soaked up most of the alcohol.”
>
  “You didn’t even eat dinner, did you?”

  “Like I said, I was enjoying the scenery too much.”

  She smiled again. Absolutely the most beautiful smile. “Well, you are a big boy so if you say you’re fine then I believe you.”

  She started walking towards the door to let me out. I suddenly remembered why I stayed there so long to begin with. She opened the door and stood to the side to let me walk through.

  “Do you need me to walk you to your car?” I asked, hoping for a few more minutes with her.

  “No thanks. I’ve got some things to shut down before I leave.”

  “Ok. I had fun. Thank you. Do you think I could call you some time, Livy?”

  She smiled but put her hand on my chest and gently pushed me out the door. “Goodnight, Jeremy. Please be safe.”

  And she shot me down.

  “You too, Livy,” I said and walked away.

  She closed and locked the door behind me.

  ~~~

  That was Thursday. Now I’m here almost a week later and I can’t even get her to have a slice of cheesecake with me. Since Thursday, I’ve been back every night. I’ve sat here until she closes, same seat as the first night. I help her clean and then we sit and talk just like the first night. I’ve asked her a few times for her number or if she’d go to dinner with me. Every night she says no or doesn’t answer me at all.

  “Jeremy, please. I can’t. I don’t have time to date anyone or go out. School and this bar consume nearly every moment I’ve got.” She must have forgotten that she told me she had the night off tomorrow.

  “So what do you do when you have the night off?” I ask.

  “Study, usually.”

  “Livy, when is the last time you went out to eat or to the movies...or bowling...clubbing? Anything that doesn’t involve work or school?”

  She looks up to the sky as if she’s thinking. “Well. The last time I went to a restaurant was when I first started working here and Joe insisted he take me to dinner for helping out so much. The last time I went to the movies I think I was five.”

  “Are you serious?” I ask, with a little more shock in my voice than I meant to let out. Her eyes go slightly wide with my reaction. She looks at me and nods. There is sadness in her eyes. I want to ask her why that makes her sad but she continues. “I went clubbing once with Sara a few months ago. She begged me for weeks to go with her so I finally did. She made me put on a dress and makeup. I hate both of those things.”