by M. E. Carter
“Knock, knock.” Speaking of Tammy.
“Hey, yeah,” I wave her over. “Come on in. You getting ready to open up shop?”
“Already did.” She drops down into the chair in front of my desk. “No one’s here yet. I thought I’d check on you and see how it’s goin’ on with the back end of things.”
Tammy’s Texas accent is strong. I don’t know if it’s because she was born and raised in the Lone Star State or if she plays it up for show, but it works for her. In her mid-50s, Tammy’s curly red hair is piled on top of her head, the lines on her face an indicator of a life hard lived. And probably hard loved. Married for at least two dozen years, she’s as committed to her man now as she was the day she got hitched—or so she says.
“It’s…” I start, trying to come up with some sort of answer that isn’t negative. There’s no point in lying to Tammy though. She has a knack for seeing right through me. Instead, my shoulders slump and I tell her the truth. “…rough. We need some regulars.”
“We’ve needed new regulars for years. Those bastards stopped tipping when they decided I was their friend more than their waitress.”
I sigh deeply. I knew taking over the bar would be rough, but I didn’t realize it had gotten worse for them as well. I was hoping the Hart reception would be a tipping point in the right direction, but it didn’t stretch us as far as I’d hoped.
All my life it’s been drilled into me that success is the only right answer. The idea of potential failure causes my teeth to clench and blood to run cold through my veins. I’ll do anything necessary to keep this bar up and running, even taking suggestions from my employees.
“Got any ideas?”
“Sure. Fire Desiree.”
I choke back a laugh at her unexpected outburst. “Excuse me? I thought you liked working with her.”
Tammy purses her lips. “I don’t know where you got that idea. I like working nights, not working with her. First time in my life the husband and I are working the same hours. It’s amazing what some regular hanky-panky can do for your mood.”
“Okay,” I interrupt loudly, not at all interested in hearing more about Tammy’s sex life. “Enough of that. Why do you think she should be fired?”
“Easy,” she says with a shrug. “That girl is unreliable and probably a functional alcoholic.”
I hold my hands up to stop her. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. I might give you unreliable since she’s late for her shifts fairly regularly, and yes, she’s called in a time or two. But functional alcoholic? Are you sure? I’ve never seen her take so much as a sip of the booze here.”
“That’s ‘cause you’re a hot piece of man candy, so she doesn’t do it in front of you. Wants to keep up appearances so she pretends to be a hard worker and all that. But she probably goes through half a bottle of Jack every night just taking shots with the customers in solidarity,” she says with air quotes, “for whatever problem they have going on that night.”
I sit back in my squeaky chair, stunned by this revelation. I always assumed Desiree was a little scatterbrained but ignored it because the customers seem to like her well enough. Now I’m wondering if we’ve got an even bigger problem with her working here. First and foremost, not smart for someone with a potential drinking problem to be responsible for mixing and serving drinks. Not to mention the liability I’d have if she were to drive home and hurt someone.
At least one mystery is solved though.
“This is probably why we’re spending more on liquor than we should be. If she’s tipsy she is probably overpouring.”
“That’s my guess,” Tammy says without the slightest hint of guilt for ratting out her co-worker. “Pat kept saying he was going to put a stop to it, but then Desiree would flash her big smile and shimmy her big boobs and he’d melt into a perverted little puddle.”
“Pat knew?” I ignore the comment about his perversion. That’s the least shocking part of her revelations tonight.
Tammy shrugs again. It’s amazing how sometimes she truly does not give a shit what anyone thinks of her. Probably why she’s such a good employee. “Call him and ask him.”
I pinch between my eyes. “No. I believe you. Everything you’re saying makes sense. It just sucks that I have to get rid of someone who’s already trained and find someone new.”
“Oh. Well, that’s easy,” Tammy says excitedly. The about-face is so sudden, I actually startle. “A girl was at that wedding reception looking for work. Real cute. Seems reliable. Not a hint of booze on her. Well, except for the dirty martini she was drinking, but she was a guest.”
I snort a laugh. “Not drunk at noon. Always good in a prospective employee.”
“It was evening. Plus, beggars can’t be choosers, boss. I left her application on your desk.” Tammy reaches over and sorts through my scattered pile. It’s a wonder she can find it in this mess. “Here it is. Kiersten Willoughby. Oooh.” She waggles her eyebrows. “She has a fancy name.”
“I don’t care what her name is as long as she can do the job. Hand it over.”
I snatch the resume from Tammy’s hands and glance over it. It looks like most of her employment history is being a dance teacher. No bar experience whatsoever, but she had a fast food stint in high school for a while. It’s something anyway.
“At least she has a steady employment history. That’s a plus, I suppose,” I say under my breath, more to myself than my waitress.
“Wait ‘til you meet her. She’s sharp. Don’t know why she wants to work in a bar—”
“Hey!” I protest, which Tammy ignores.
“—But you don’t want to miss this one. My gut says what she doesn’t know she’ll pick up quickly. I’m surprised you didn’t notice her. Real pretty girl.”
I take a second to think through the guests that night. There were a lot people and I was so focused on making a good impression, I didn’t really pay much attention to anything beyond serving up drinks.
Looking at the application again, I realize Tammy is right. I don’t know why she wants to work here with all this dance experience but I’m not here to judge. As long as she can do the job and not steal my booze, it’ll still be a better situation than I’m in now.
A loud cheer from the other room reminds Tammy and me of exactly why we’re here.
“Sounds like our resident bartender has just had her first camaraderie shot of the night.” Tammy pushes out of her seat and makes her way to the door. She points at me. “Call that girl. I’m not sure how much longer Desiree can pretend she’s sober while she works.”
With those parting words, Tammy exits the room and leaves me to my thoughts.
I glance down at my watch, noting it’s only seven-thirty. Well past business hours if I worked in an office, but I don’t. This is an after-hours establishment. If this Kristen, or however you say her name, is going to work here, she better get used to phone calls at weird times.
Grabbing my office phone receiver, I dial the number from the top of the paper.
It only takes a couple of rings before a gentle voice answers. My first thought is she’s going to have to get a little more gruff if she’s going to be effective behind a bar.
“Yeah, I’m looking for a, uh, Kristen Willoughby.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before she responds.
“This is Kiersten.”
“Sorry. Anyway, Kiersten, this is Paul Franklin. I’m the owner of Frui Vita. It seems you dropped off an application with one of my employees during the wedding reception last week and she was really impressed with you.”
“Oh, yes.” Kiersten’s voice immediately perks up. Maybe she doesn’t need to get more gruff after all. “It looks like a neat place to work.”
“Why?” I’m truly curious. It’s just a bar. I’m working on making it something better, but right now there’s not really anything different about it than any other run-of-the-mill place.
“I guess I’ve always thought working at a bar looks interesting. Talk
ing to the people. Learning how to make mixed drinks. Live music. It seems like every night would be different. I like that. I don’t like it when things get boring.”
I feel like there’s a bit of desperation in her answer. Like she needs this job badly and is willing to kiss a little ass to get it. I’m oddly okay with that. I appreciate her trying to put her best foot forward. Combined with Tammy’s initial impression, I think we may have found my newest employee. But I still need to ask a few important questions.
“Look Kiersten, I’m gonna cut to the chase. I need someone who will be here on time and work hard. I don’t need a slacker or someone who is going to drink on the job.”
“Understood.”
“Do you have reliable transportation?”
“Yes, sir. I have a car. It’s got some miles on it but I keep up with all the regular maintenance so it should last me a while.”
“Perfect. We mostly serve beer on tap, but we also serve liquor. Can you make a mixed drink?”
“Just the basics. My friends say I make a mean margarita and I know how to make regular martinis. But I’m a fast learner,” she adds in quickly.
“Last question. Are you a thief?”
“Uh… What?”
“Sorry, that came out wrong. Do you have a record for any kind of theft?”
“No. I don’t have any kind of record at all. But since you’re leveling with me, I’ll extend the same courtesy. I need this job too much to risk it by being a douchebag. If you hire me, I’ll train hard and work even harder. As long as you’re a good employer, I’m happy to be a good employee.”
I find myself smirking at her candor. Tammy was right—she is impressive. Even over the phone.
“I like your style. And you’re friendly enough. When can you start?
“Wait. You don’t want to see me first?”
“I trust Tammy’s recommendation. And I don’t need to see you to know you’re better than what I’ve got.”
“Oh. That’s kind of sad. But in that case, I’ll start tomorrow.”
We work out a few more details, including pay scale and the hours she’ll work. By the time we hang up, I feel even more confident that Tammy was right on. I’ll have to thank her later. Maybe someday I can even thank her with a raise.
Another cheer comes from the front and I have a bad feeling that was camaraderie shot number two. I can’t afford any more of those tonight. It’s time to put on my boss hat and fire my first employee.
This is going to suck.
SIX
Kiersten
In hindsight, I probably should have asked Lauren if she could babysit before agreeing to start a new job, but I was afraid the opportunity was going to slip through my fingers if I didn’t take it right then.
It wasn’t until I hung up that I thought about the fancy new daycare we’d already toured and that they close at six and aren’t open on weekends. I looked into some other options, but I don’t feel right about leaving Carson in a twenty-four-hour facility. Besides, the closest one is by the San Antonio airport and I’m nowhere near there. The only other option, at least until I come up with some other ideas, is letting Carson go to daycare in the afternoon with Lauren picking him up after work and keeping him until I’m home. I hate feeling like an imposition.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I hand Carson to my best friend, who begins peppering him with kisses making him giggle and squirm until she puts him down. He immediately takes off running to the toy box Lauren has hiding behind an oversized chair. “My new boss is training me to close. I won’t be off until at least two. I might be as late as four. That’s really early to wake you up.”
That gets me an annoyed look. “Which is why you’re going to go home and grab a few hours of sleep before I drop Carson off at your place on my way to work.”
“What? You can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“It’s above and beyond.” I cry indignantly, growing more and more uncomfortable with how much I’m coming to rely on her. This is why I refused to move in with them despite how much room they have. I didn’t want them to become more responsible than they should be for me and my son. And yet, here I am.
“No, dragging my ass up at four a.m. only to try and fall back asleep for a few hours is going above and beyond, which is why it’s not gonna happen. I’d rather not interrupt my REM cycle and as a bonus because of the great friend I am, you’ll get one, too. It’s not a big deal,” she reiterates. “I’ll leave for work at nine and with rush hour, it’ll take me half an hour max to get to your place. That gives you a solid five hours of sleep before you have to wake up. And he still takes naps so as of today, you do too. And that’s on the days Heath doesn’t beg me to leave him here for a while. You can sleep as much as you want then.”
I rub my forehead, willing my brain to come up with a solution that doesn’t require my friends to become like my son’s second parents.
“Listen, Kiersten, I know it’s not ideal, but it’s way better than never getting any rest at all.”
I bite my lip, still hesitating, but she’s right. This is better than any alternative, no matter how much I feel like I’m intruding on her life. “Are you sure? Like really sure.”
“What’s to be sure about? Heath isn’t even here tonight. He’s on a road trip with his dad and I’m already bored. Carson and I will eat some boxed mac and cheese, watch some cartoons and take a bath. Sounds like a perfect night.”
It does sound pretty amazing. Now I wish I was the one staying home while she went to work. But I don’t have time to dwell on what-ifs. It’s depressing and there’s no point in wishing for things that won’t happen.
“Thank you.” I lean in to give her a hug. Lauren has been my best friend since high school and I’m lucky to have her. Most friendships that start during the teen years dissolve when everyone leaves for college, but ours never did. Even with all the shit the teenage years and beyond has brought, we’ve always been this close. I’m excited to live in the same town as her again, not just because of the help she’s offering, but because I get to see her on a regular basis.
Pulling back, she smooths down my hair. “No need to thank me. We’re family. It’s what we do. Now, where is my date for the night? Carson!”
“Lolo!” He yells back from behind the chair.
I laugh at his nickname for her. “Baby boy, Mommy has to leave.”
We listen quietly, curious to hear what kind of response he’s going to give. It takes a minute for him to decide.
“Okay bye!” he finally yells.
“Little twerp.” I shake my head and go track him down so I can get at least one hug before I go. He’s still behind the chair, but now he’s inside the toybox. “What are you doing in there?”
Carson looks up at me with his wide eyes and shows me the cars he’s holding in his hands. “Car, Mama. Pay car wif Unca Heat.”
I snatch him out of the container and blow a raspberry on his neck. “I see you have cars. But Uncle Heath isn’t here. You’re going to have to play with Lolo while Mommy goes to work, okay?”
“Otay.”
I could be sad that my baby doesn’t seem concerned by me leaving, but more than that, I’m glad he feels comfortable here. It’ll be much easier to calm myself down in the car than to calm us both in the doorway.
Setting him back on the floor next to the plethora of toys, way more than he needs if you ask me, I ruffle his dark hair.
“Welp, I guess I’m on my way.”
Lauren grins at me and shakes her head. “He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure to text you four million times with updates so you feel better.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
She rolls her eyes and follows me to the door, making sure to lock it behind me as I leave.
This isn’t a new thing. I’ve left Carson so I can work before. My sister, Nicole used to babysit him all the time. Somehow this feels different. This isn’t just picking up shifts here and there as needed. This is
a full-time position. I’ll be missing his bath and bedtime five nights a week.
Settling into my five-year-old Honda Civic, I find myself wishing I could call my mother for advice or encouragement but there’s no point. She’ll just remind me again how this is the consequence of my own actions. I’ve heard it all from her before.
When Carson was first born, I expected it. I got pregnant in college by a guy I barely knew. Of course, she was going to have some judgmental things to say. I assumed at some point she’d let it go. Almost three years later it still hasn’t happened. Except for a weekly phone call to make sure she’s still in good health, we don’t talk much at all.
The sad thing is, she doesn’t need to remind me of my own choices because I live them every day. Hearing it over and over and over isn’t doing anything except wasting her breath and all of our time. Plus, it takes away from Carson. If anyone is innocent in this difficult situation, it’s him.
If only my mother could put down her pride long enough to see that she’s missing out on the most wonderful grandson just to keep reminding me that she’s “right.”
Ironic since she’s wrong.
Yes, being a poor single mom is my own damn fault. But I’d stay this way for the rest of my life to have my baby boy. He is the reason I get up in the morning and the reason I sleep well at night. I love my son more than I hate being poor. Too bad she can’t see that through her lens of conservative consequences.
My phone rings on cue, as if my sister can hear me struggling with thoughts of my family. I know it is her without even looking. She always seems to know when I’m having a moment and wants to make me smile. Maybe she’ll tell me something to brighten my day.
I quickly connect the Bluetooth. “Hey, stranger,” I answer brightly as I drive through the residential neighborhood. I’ve got one pit stop to make before heading to work. “Are you almost ready for the college experience?”
At six years my junior, Nicole is just a couple weeks away from high school graduation. She toyed with spending the summer relaxing at home but is anxious to get out into the world by herself for the first time, so she opted to enroll in a summer program. It makes me nervous, not because she’s young but because she’s so damn sweet. She’s the kind of girl who’s never met a stranger and has a kind word and a smile for everyone. I’m pretty sure she’s where Carson inherited his disposition from. I’m hoping she learned from watching my mistakes and knows how to stay out of some bad situations. Lord knows I’ve lectured her enough times it should all be engrained in her brain by now. Just in time for her to set out on her own.