by Mika Lane
May as well get comfortable. This could take a while.
Before strolling back to Dakini’s end of the bar, Jake left her to cool her heels a good fifteen minutes while he finished polishing the glassware just out of the dishwasher. Finally acknowledging her, he asked, “Did you want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
Should she? Could she?
“A glass of prosecco, please,” she blurted out.
Just one would be fine. She’d leave it at that. He’d see she had things under control.
Jake’s eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”
“I am. It’ll be fine.” Lifting her chin, she smiled, all cool confidence.
He hesitated, and pulled a bottle from the cooler. “Okay then.”
Angling the bottle, he rested its lip on the glass’s edge and let the bubbly liquid slide in.
“How are things?” He set the bottle down to wipe spilled droplets off the bar. When there was no more to clean, he looked up at her.
“Things are good. Life is good,” she said with as big a smile as she could muster.
“How’s work?” His face was absent any real expression.
“Good, good. Hey, you coming in again to see me?” She took a tiny sip of her bubbles.
“Oh, I don’t know.” His gaze left hers, returning to the spotless bar where he wiped an invisible fleck of something.
His indifference jabbed at her. Shaking it off, she fought to keep her shoulders—and her spirits—from sagging.
“Right. Sorry. I must have misread your interest.” Propping her shoulders back up, she smiled with bright nonchalance. She’d give him no idea of the nosedive her heart was taking at that very moment. “I thought you wanted to spend time together. My bad.”
His gaze wandered up and down the bar, looking everywhere but at her. Drumming his fingers on wood, he finally faced her. “I like you, but… I guess I’m a little weirded out by what you do.”
“By…what I do? You mean for work?” Heat spread across Dakini’s face like uncontrolled wildfire.
What did he just say?
No, he didn’t say that. She’d heard him wrong. Of course. He didn’t…he couldn’t…say that…would he? But in a sea of realization, she’d heard his words. Clearly.
Her smiled faltered like a wilting flower. It then faded altogether, wiped from her face by the shame she thought she’d left at the door. Releasing the champagne glass from her stiffening fingers, she moved her hands to the sides of her stool and held the edges tight. That way, he couldn’t see her gripping the wood.
“Is that what this cold shoulder is about? You’re having an issue with my work?” She forced her voice to stay even and low as the waiter dropped off her steaming mussels. “Ha. I thought you were irked because I sort of blew you off at the end of our last date.”
“I guess I just don’t—”
“Wait. Wait, wait, wait,” Dakini interrupted, her hand raised, palm toward him. “I am proud of the work I do.” Realizing her jaw was clenched, she inhaled deeply.
“I know, I know. I’m not saying you shouldn’t be proud. I’m just not sure how comfortable I am with it,” Jake said.
Dakini’s throat tightened as a crushing rage built. “You were fine with it a week ago. Are you judging me?” Humiliation shook the voice she couldn’t seem to keep calm.
“Um, I don’t think so—”
“Because I think you are.” Each word she spoke came out a bit louder than the one before, and she had a painful craving for something to hit him with. There was always the cold prosecco, but that could never cause the level of harm she wanted to inflict at that moment.
He has some nerve. And he thinks he’s so special? He’s a fucking bartender, for god’s sake, not a brain surgeon.
“Dakini, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you. Please lower your voice.” He looked around with growing unease and wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.
“Yeah. I’ll lower my voice. Asshole,” she hissed, finishing her glass. She slid it toward him, empty, while she gobbled down a couple mussels.
So this was what a man looks like who regrets opening his big, goddamn mouth. He slid another glass of bubbly toward her as her face still burned. She sucked down the just-poured glass.
Condescending prick. Fucking asshole
“Hey, Dakini, maybe you’d better slow down—”
“Maybe you’d better go fuck yourself.”
The front door opened and a small group filed in.
“Hey guys,” Jake said to the new patrons. Probably relieved at the distraction. “What’ll you have?”
Dakini headed to the restroom, leaving behind talk of beer, whiskey, and baseball scores as she speed dialed her cell phone.
“Hello?”
Reassured by her best friend’s voice, she said, “Hi, Noelle.”
“Hey, Daki. Where are you?”
“Left Bank.” Dakini leaned against the ladies’ room wall and dropped her face into her hand.
“Really? Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine if you don’t mind asshole guys who have an issue with our line of work.”
“What?” Noelle asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Well,” Dakini said, swallowing the growing lump in her throat. “I came by here to see Jake to apologize for being standoffish, etcetera. And he had the nerve to tell me he’s not a fan of my chosen profession.” Her voice broke, and one hot tear trickled down her cheek.
So sick of crying.
“Daki,” Noelle said. “Come over, okay? I just ordered pizza. I’ll send an Uber to get you.”
“No, I’ll be heading home in a bit.” She looked in the bathroom mirror at her red eyes.
“Are you sure, Daki? C’mon over here.”
“No, no. I’m okay. Just wanted to vent about the judgmental asshole.” She sniffed hard and readied herself for a return to the battlefield.
“Be careful please. Have you been drinking?”
Busted.
“A little.”
“I thought we talked about this.” The pitch of Noelle’s voice sounded just a touch shrill. “Please don’t do this.” Actually, she sounded terrified.
“I’m fine. Honestly. I’m done for the night.” She looked in the mirror. Yup, that’s what a liar looks like.
“Call me tomorrow?” Noelle asked.
“I will. Talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Love you, Daki.”
Dakini swiped her phone closed and leaned against the cool bathroom wall again. She wiped away her last couple tears and took a big breath. Time to go home.
Returning to the bar, she held her head high. Jake headed straight for her as she crossed the room, but he was derailed when his co-bartender interrupted him with a question. Wearing a cool smile, Dakini slid back onto her stool to wait for her check, and said hello to the patrons who’d settled in next to her.
“Hi there,” the guy in the neighboring seat said, as he looked her up and down. “Can I get you a drink?”
It’s time to go home.
“Sure. Thanks.”
All plans to call it a night flew out the window. No one was going to chase her off with her tail between her legs.
“A drink for my pretty friend here,” the guy called to Jake, waving his hand.
Had Jake wanted to talk to her?
“What’s your name, by the way? Mine’s Henry.”
Henry’s artsy black glasses obscured his eyes, but the healthy gap between his teeth was distinctive. A receding hairline left a small patch of hair in the middle of his scalp, and he was prepped out like a J. Crew ad. There seemed to be a fair amount of roundness to him. Not Dakini’s type, but her battered ego was desperate for some soothing attention.
Jake took his time, but finally, scowling, he poured Dakini’s bubbly.
She extended her hand, clasping Henry’s clammy one. “I’m Dakini. Nice to meet you.”
Henry took her hand. “Da…what?”
>
“Dakini. D-a-k-i-n-i.” Unless they were familiar with Buddhism, no one ever knew what to make of her name.
“Whoa. That’s quite a mouthful. What’s it mean?”
“Dakini was a tantric goddess, the female embodiment of enlightenment. Sort of like a female Buddha.”
Henry’s eyes widened.
Dakini sipped her prosecco. Her gaze wandered over to Jake, who kept looking up from his glass polishing to Henry’s fawning. His previously bored expression had turned into a scowl.
Henry called to his friends, “Hey, guys, I’ve just met a tantric goddess.”
They looked from him to Dakini, nodding in greeting as they eyed her up and down. They seemed unimpressed and were quickly back to their football talk.
“Dakini—did I say it right?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You are a sight to behold.” He reached to push a strand of hair from her face and scooted his bar stool closer.
She knew it was time to go home. She wasn’t that big an idiot. A little voice tapped on the inside of her brain and reminded her she’d been in situations like this before—in the company of an overly attentive, handsy stranger, and a growing buzz from one too many drinks.
And as usual, that voice wasn’t loud enough. Or maybe it was just that her make-poor-choices voice was drowning out her I’m-a-smart-girl voice. Again. The trick was, and it wasn’t really a trick because everyone knew it, was not to get in these situations to begin with. But too late for that now. She was committed. The train had left the station.
She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Jake was still watching. With a flourish, she swiveled on her stool to face Henry. Even if he wasn’t her type, after Jake’s royal insult, she was going to eat up his flattering attentions like they were the last birthday cake in the world.
“Tell me,” Henry began. “What’s a gorgeous creature like you doing alone here? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with that but…I bet you live nearby, huh?” Was that a hopeful look on his face? God, someone give this cheeseball some game…
“No, I live in the city—”
“You guys doing okay?” Jake had appeared out of nowhere to wipe the already spotless bar. He glared at Henry.
Dakini’s heart fluttered.
“Yeah, dude, how about another round for me and my friend here?” Henry threw some money on the bar with barely a glance in Jake’s direction.
Taking a deep breath, Jake turned to Dakini. “You doing okay?”
Even with her slight buzz, she was well aware of what he was really saying. To hell with him.
“I’d love another, thank you,” she said, locking her gaze on Henry. She pushed away her empty champagne flute like a petulant brat.
“Now, where were we?” she said loudly enough for Jake to hear. “Oh right. You were asking me where I lived.”
“Yes, right,” Henry said, looking from her face to her breasts and back again, seemingly oblivious that he’d been caught. “So why would you come here from the city? There are so many great places in San Francisco to hang out.”
“I work here in Marin, and this is kind of a regular hang out for my friends and me.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jake pouring her refill.
As soon as he walked away to serve another customer, Henry asked, “Are you friends with that guy, the bartender?”
“Um…sort of,” she replied.
“Are you dating or something?”
“No. Nothing like that.”
“Okay. Because I could swear he’s keeping an eye on you. See?” Henry gestured toward the end of the bar. Jake peered over his shoulder at them. “He keeps looking over here. What’s his problem? Do you want me to say something?”
“Please, no.” She didn’t need any more trouble. “That’s not necessary. Really. Hey, tell me, do you live around here?”
“Not far.” He swigged his beer. “So, where in the city do you live?”
“Nob Hill.”
Henry’s eyes widened, and he nodded with approval. “No kidding? Nice neighborhood. Got your own place?”
Dakini found the cold bubbles mercifully numbing as they wrapped her in an all too familiar—but precarious—warmth. Just a bit more and none of the drama of the evening would matter any longer. “I do have my own place. Bought it a few years ago.”
“No kidding, you own a place in the city!” His smile was wide as his hand wandered to her arm.
Geez, if his face were a cash register there would be dollar signs in his eyes. Time to split for home.
Rising from her stool, Dakini stumbled on her platform sandals. She caught the bar to steady her balance and excused herself for the ladies’ room, Henry’s greedy stare following her all the way. She’d successfully navigated the route to the restroom only to bump into a wall the minute she turned the corner. Peeking back around at the bar, she saw Henry on his phone. His friends were gone, and Jake was approaching him. She could make out what they were saying, but just barely.
Jake did not look happy. “Here’s your bill, buddy,” he said to Henry. “You need anything else?”
Henry stood, puffing his chest and adjusting his trousers. Dakini heard only fragments but saw him reach into his wallet and throw a credit card on the bar.
“What’s with you, dude? She your girlfriend or something?” Henry asked.
Oh shit.
Jake leaned close, but his voice grew louder. “She’s my friend, and I’ve been watching you feed her drinks for the past couple hours. And now she can barely walk.” His finger was pointed at the middle of Henry’s chest.
“Why don’t you fuck off?” Henry fired back. “She’s a grown woman, and I doubt she needs you babysitting her. Mind your damn business.”
“You’d better not mess with her,” Jake said between clenched teeth.
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?”
Dakini forgot she needed to pee and hustled back over to the guys.
As she approached, Henry lowered his voice. “Why don’t you just get back to serving drinks, you prick.”
Jake’s face flashed from red to purple, his pupils growing large and dark.
Dakini arrived at her seat and looked from one guy to the other. “Hey, Jake,” she said with liquid courage. “It was a great evening. Really good to see you.”
“You heading out?” Jake asked, looking from her to Henry.
“Yeah, gotta go,” she said breezily.
Jake’s eyes bored into hers. “We’ll talk later then.”
“Sure, Jake. Whatever you say.” She laughed as Henry put an arm around her.
She resisted him for a moment and then reconsidered. She knew she wasn’t going anywhere with him, but why miss a chance to give Jake the good old middle finger? Looking over her shoulder to make sure he was watching—and he was—she thought, or maybe imagined, a sadness crossed his face.
“Ignore that asshole,” Henry said, guiding her toward the door.
One last glance behind her caught Jake shaking his head as he watched them depart. Left Bank’s door swung open for a moment, and Dakini felt herself swallowed up by a perfect starry night.
For the next hour after Dakini’s stagey exit, Jake made dozens of the latest “in” drink—the Sazerac cocktail—until the fiery scent of rye whiskey nauseated him.
He turned to his co-bartender. “Hey can you cover for me? I need a break.”
“Go for it.”
Jake headed through the kitchen, past clanking pots and pans and line chefs plating moules frites, crepes, and other simple French dishes. He kept going toward Left Bank’s back door until he could gulp the clear night air. A breeze of muted sage and rosemary filled his nostrils, clearing his head of the pungent hard liquor he’d been pouring.
Perching on an overturned milk crate, he looked up at the dark sky’s flickering stars. Something rustled near the dumpster. A cat or maybe a raccoon snooped through a mountain of cardboard piled up for recycling, upsetting the careful stacks and sending them toppl
ing across the ground.
Jake jumped to chase away the trespassing critter when a different sound caught his attention, something from the direction of the alley that separated the restaurant from the building next door. Stopping short, he listened, trying to identify it. Walking toward the alley, he peered into the darkness and saw a small, huddled shape.
It was Dakini.
She sat in the alley, head in her arms, mumbling and crying.
Running to her, Jake kneeled and gripped her shaking arms. “Dakini, what the…? Talk to me. What happened? Are you okay?”
Jerking her head up, she shook herself out of Jake’s grip and pushed up to stand. Instead, she tumbled into him, trembling harder with tears.
That’s when he saw her scraped, bloody knees and dirty face. Thick crimson rivers ran down her shins, slowly drying into brown crusts. Her tears cleaned narrow streaks through the dirt on her cheeks.
“Dakini, what the hell happened?”
Her hands flew to cover her face, and she forced words between gasping sobs. “I…that guy…he pushed me…his friends…” She didn’t—couldn’t—look at him.
Jake helped her back to sitting, his hands on her arms again. “Okay, okay. Take your time. Tell me what happened.”
She took a deep breath to slow the sobs and finally spoke in a shaky voice. “I was waiting for my Uber ride. That guy, Henry, said he was waiting for one, too.”
“Okay. Then what?”
“His friends drove up. He was talking to them while I was checking my phone to see where my ride was, and then he said his friends would drive me. I asked them, ‘You’d really take me all the way to the city?’ They looked at each other and laughed. Something didn’t feel right so I started walking back to the restaurant when Henry grabbed me and tried to push me in the car.”
“Jesus, Dakini. Did they hurt you?”
“When he pushed me, I fell. He tried to get me up but I scratched, kicked, and screamed that I was calling the police.” She wiped her wet face on the sleeve of her jacket. “No one was around to hear, but he jumped in the car anyway, and they drove away. They left me there on the ground.”
Looking around, she added, “I don’t know what happened to my purse.” Her voice was panicked, and her eyes wide.
“Wait here. I’ll see if your bag is out front.”