by Ashley Munoz
I smiled at him and patted his shoulder. “I got you covered, boss, what night do you need me?”
He looked over his shoulder and seemed to think about it. “Would tomorrow night around six be too soon?”
I beamed. “Not at all, that's perfect.” Then I internally cringed at how happy I appeared. I made a mental note to seem less available, as if I actually had a life.
I talked some more with Jasmine and Sammy before Brenda came over to train me. I waved goodbye and promised to see them tomorrow. Was it normal for people to trust strangers that soon? Was it normal for me to trust kids that soon? What if Sammy and Jasmine were only nice in front of their grandpa? What if they were secretly like the evil kid next door on Toy Story? I needed to calm down and stop letting that little hamster keep spinning in my brain. They were probably amazing, especially if Theo was their grandpa.
The night went on pretty slow, until around nine. Then the customers started pouring in, and my wrists already ached from how often I was grabbing glasses and pouring bottles. Sweat was beading at my brow because I had to run down the bar from customer to customer. I was moving just to keep up with the crowd. How did this many people even live in Belvidere? I was astonished as the front door just kept opening and more people walked through. The training Brenda gave me basically covered where things were located, since I already knew the basics of tending bar and mixing drinks. So, she left me to fend for myself at one end of the bar as she covered the other.
I was right in the middle of making two whiskey sours when I felt a hand on my ass. I turned around so fast that I nearly fell. It was a guy my age, with dark hair, massive arms, and he was beyond drunk. He'd reached over the bar to get my attention, but I couldn't really understand anything he was trying to say because of the rage that was rolling through me. I mean, who just grabs someone's ass?
I wasn't sure what to do. I wanted to tell this jackass to never touch me again, then maybe bend his hand backward to prove my point, but I didn't want to get fired. The drunk guy was slurring his words. It sounded like he was saying sorry, and something like, “I just wanted to get your number, baby,” which further pissed me off, because the reason for his grab wasn't even drink-related. Brenda saw the exchange from the other side of the bar and gave me a sympathetic look, but didn't offer any help. I pushed the guy's shoulders back away from the bar and told him he was cut off.
He started laughing. I realized he was with a group of friends, and the debauchery was some big joke to him. Two of his friends started yelling something at him, but I couldn't hear what they were saying over the music. I shifted my focus to the other two chicks to the side of him; they didn't look to happy with him either.
I was pouring out the head of the beer and re-filling the pint glasses when I felt something touch my ass again. I whipped around, startled to find that the jackass made his way behind the bar. I wish I had my freaking taser! He was standing right behind me, slurring something disgusting like, “Baby, I want your number, give it to me.” He said the “give it to me” with a little moan.
I gagged a little in my mouth and started to panic. I didn't want Theo to think I couldn't handle this, but then again, Theo had left hours ago. Still, I didn't know what to do, so I decided to go with my gut. I shoved the guy out of my space and continued pushing against him, trying to get him out of the employee area, but the more I pushed, the more he stood his ground and pressed into me. Impressively solid footing for a drunk asshole. He grabbed at my shoulder.
“Knock it off. Get the fuck off me!” I yelled, but he didn't budge.
I tried to get better footing, but I had started to fall back on my heels. I took an awkward step back, but ran into something solid. I twisted around, but all I could manage to see was muscular arms covered in tattoos. I tried to switch my angle to get a better look, and only gathered to see the side of a hard jaw, and a white t-shirt. Whoever was behind me put his hands on my shoulders and slowly positioned me to the side. From this view, I could see him better. Then again, maybe my eyes were too strained from the low lights, or the few shots the cute redheaded guy bought me from earlier had started to hit my system. Because standing there, with a look that could kill, was Jimmy Stenson, or, as I had so affectionately named him in my head— Jimmy the Jerk.
I followed his deadly gaze and realized it was pinned on the drunk guy who was causing me trouble. I froze, caught now in the silence between the two men; it was like Jimmy was trying to hold back by the way he clenched and unclenched his fists. A moment, two, then all hell broke loose, as Jimmy unleashed whatever he was holding in and let it all out on the drunk guy.
“Get the hell out of here and don't ever put your hands on her again!”
I flinched at his words, and his tone. Why did Jimmy care either way if this guy ever put his hands on me again? Why was he even here?
The drunk guy wasn't getting it, he pushed against Jimmy the Jerk and told him in all kinds of slurred words that he saw me first and that my “ass” was his.
Jimmy grabbed the drunk guy by the shirt and began pushing him forward until they were both out from behind the bar. He kept pushing him until they got to the door, where Jimmy threw drunk guy out, directly on his ass. I stopped watching, remembering that I had customers and drink orders to fill. I focused on the small glasses in front of me. The group of friends with drunk guy were still gathered near the bar and within listening distance.
“Shit, man, do you know who that is?” a blond guy asked, while looking over his shoulder to where his friend had been dropped on his ass.
“Bartender chick’s boyfriend?” A few of them laughed.
“No, fuck face. That's Jimmy Stenson,” the blonde one quipped, as if that were enough explanation.
I found myself searching needlessly for more limes as I tried to get closer to their group, so I could hear better.
"So?" the tall one drew out. I looked up to watch the blond one, who seemed to know more about Jimmy. I wanted to know why it mattered too.
"You ever heard of the Brass? It's a fucking motorcycle gang in Chicago. Jimmy was nicknamed 'The Fist' for a reason. I'm getting out of here, I don't want any beef with them."
He slammed a twenty on the counter, threw back the rest of his beer, and took off. His friends laughed and watched him go, their mumbles no longer interesting to me. I was buzzing with adrenaline, curiosity, and confusion. I couldn't figure out what the hell just happened. I took a second to look around, as if the room could give me the answers I needed. Just as I started to fill a few more drink orders, I noticed movement behind the crowd and saw Jimmy pop back around the bar. He started filling drinks like he worked here. What the hell?
I kept filling orders as they came in, and I didn't ask or even look at him. I purposely reorganized my thoughts to call him Jimmy from now on, not Jimmy the Jerk since he did just come to my rescue, but my mind was still spinning as to why he was even here in Belvidere to begin with. Obviously, since Brenda didn't bat an eye at him being in the employee area, he must be a friend of Theo's or something. Maybe because they were both in the bar industry? I didn't know, and I really didn't care, I just wanted to get through my shift. Finally, around eleven, things calmed down. I was wiping down the counter and refilling the limes when my gaze wandered and caught Jimmy drying some glasses. I put down the towel and walked over to him.
“Thanks, by the way, for earlier, with that guy." My voice came out shakier than I intended.
He didn't look at me, just kept drying. Then after a few more glasses, he started in on me. "What in the hell are you doing working here anyway?"
Why did he always sound so pissed off?
I ran my hand down the length of my ponytail and let out a sigh, hoping my attitude would come off more jokingly as I replied, "I had a job interview that didn't go so well, and I came in for a drink before I went home. I met Theo, and I'm pretty sure he liked me, since he offered me this glamorous job."
I held my hands to show off the room and crack
ed a smile to lighten up the mood.
He pivoted to face me, his hands still on the glass. He was wearing dark blue jeans that fit him perfectly and a white t-shirt. His jeans were more on the thin side and made his boots stand out. He looked like a model, which wasn't fair at eleven at night. I'm sure my look was more like, sweaty 90’s reject.
He put down the glass and locked eyes with me. “Theo? I can't believe this. Of course you're who he hired.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, then let out a sigh before he continued, “Look, I'm sorry, but you can't work here anymore. Go get your stuff ready and head home.”
For the first time in a while, my face didn't turn red, it turned completely white. What the hell was going on?
How on earth did this guy keep popping into my life and ruining it?!
“What the hell is your problem with me? Look, I'm sorry for telling you off yesterday, I didn't realize I would make an enemy for life by doing so, but I need this job.” I hated how desperate that made me sound, how vulnerable I was in front of him, again.
He looked down at the floor, and unapologetically said, “Not this job.”
I used to be calm under pressure. I used to handle awkward moments with ease and professionalism. In just two days, Jimmy had exploited the fact that I couldn't do either of those things anymore. I was an emotional basket case now, and I was about to cry in front of him again. “This isn't even your bar! You managed to keep me out of yours, but you can't kick me out of this one, you don't have the right!”
I was making an embarrassing spectacle of myself for the customers who were present, but this guy had a way of making me feel like a schoolgirl being bullied on the playground.
He threw the towel on the bar with force then told me, “I own half this bar, and hold weight in hiring and firing, and you just got fired. So, go get your shit and get out!”
I untied my apron, tears now streaming down my face. I threw the apron on the bar and ran into the back. I did exactly as he said, grabbing my stuff and leaving. I couldn't think of much as I made my embarrassing getaway, but one thing was for sure.
I officially hated Jimmy the Jerk.
My Friday started rather normal…
I got up, made the kids breakfast and drove them to school, went back to the house to get my bike, then rode to Rockford and started work. The bar was normal, I interviewed a couple more people for the accounting job. They were idiots or, if I was honest, neither of them held any of the credentials that the resume I carried around in my jacket pocket had.
Ramsey had wiggled her way into my head. I had looked over her resume at least twenty times, dissecting it, weighing it, and trying to find something wrong with it. I had even spoken to three of her old bosses, including Richard Reed of Dyson and Reed. Once he heard that someone had called inquiring about Ramsey Bennington, he demanded to speak to me himself and told me that I was the biggest idiot in Illinois if I didn’t snatch her up. It was a similar sentiment from all her other references, who I didn’t even need to talk to. I kept thinking I would find at least one person who would confirm for me that hiring her was, in fact, a bad idea.
I learned that she had earned a full ride scholarship to Northern Illinois University for soccer. She could have gone pro, according to her coach. Which was why she was scouted for Northwestern only two years into her college career. She transferred schools, and even graduated with honors, but seemed to be completely fine with leaving the soccer career behind, because of her obsession with numbers and massive talent for keeping businesses afloat. I really was an idiot for letting her go, even more so than Dyson and Reed.
After the lame interviews and research that I devoted to Ramsey, I folded her resume up and returned it to my pocket. I got home, had dinner with my kids and, around nine, Dad asked if I would mind stopping by the bar to check in on his new employee. I didn’t mind getting out if he was going to stay home with the kids. Dad had already mentioned that he found me a sitter for tomorrow night and although I had found my date, a part of me still wondered about the available women that might be at Dad’s place tonight. Did that make me an asshole? I just wasn't sure how it was going to go with Sarah from the coffee shop. The memory of our interaction played back in my mind.
I pulled forward in the Tahoe, the large window open and the sounds of country music filled the tiny coffee hut. I waited for the tan, tall, blonde I knew as Sarah, to notice that I had pulled up. She was dancing to the music, her jean shorts showcased her assets. From where I sat, I could see the small, snow boots on her feet, and the flannel shirt she had on over a small white tank top. The entire outfit seemed to fit three different seasons into it. She finally noticed that I was waiting when she turned around singing a few lines of the low drawling country ballad. "Hey, sorry, what can I get you, Jimmy?"
Sarah had flirted with me numerous times, but I usually ignored her comments. Today, I flashed her a smile and decided right there that I needed to just ask someone out and get it over with, and she would do just fine. "Hey beautiful, can I get a twenty-ounce, drip coffee."
She smiled and started moving towards the white, paper cups to fill my beverage. "What are you up to today?" she asked, while pushing the lid into place.
I hesitated for a moment. "Not much, but I know that I'd like to take you to dinner sometime."
She smiled, her brown eyes dancing with excitement. She probably got asked out a lot, so maybe she'd say no, but still I waited with a little apprehension for her answer. She turned away from me for a moment before sauntering towards the window where I waited.
"I'd love to," she said as she handed me my coffee, her name and number scrawled on the side of the cup.
“Don’t forget to tell Brenda that she needs to place the supply order tonight,” Dad yelled at me from the kitchen, bringing me back to the present.
“Okay,” I threw back at him from the top of the stairs. I tossed on some jeans and a t-shirt and headed out on my bike. I pulled into Sip N Sides, a name I was eager to change as soon as my dad was willing to retire and saw the full parking lot. There were usually at least ten spots available during any given night that the place was open. Tonight, however, there wasn’t a free spot in sight. I ended up pulling up outside the door and parking on the sidewalk. I walked in and the smell of stale cigarette smoke and sweat assaulted me. My parents had this bar for as long as I can remember and even now, as a thirty-three-year-old, I can’t walk in without seeing my mom at the bar wiping it down, laughing with the regulars. I smiled at the memory and walked further in, past the pool tables, and clumps of men and women. The music was blaring, classic rock, like usual, and the dim lighting helped cover the stained carpets and deteriorating decor. I wanted to change this place so badly, but dad wouldn’t budge. I was trying to find Brenda, the shift supervisor, so I could talk to her about the new employee, but the bar was crowded. There was a mixed group of older men and younger, college-aged guys standing around the bar, blocking my view so I couldn't see who was serving. I recalled how Dad joked about the pretty little thing he had hired, and figured he was right about drawing in more customers. That was, until I saw her.
I noticed her hair first; it was braided, again, and again something in me stirred at the sight of it. She wore it up, which gave her long body even more length. My eyes were taking on a life of their own and they were greedy. I took in her high cheekbones, her plump lips, then her tight t-shirt that moved something entirely different in me. Lastly, I noticed her tight jeans, but right as I was enjoying the view, someone's hand landed right on her ass. I stopped short and gripped the back of the chair nearest to me. I watched the hand on her and followed it up to the dark-haired college-aged asshole that was leaning over the bar, trying to get her attention. What the hell was happening to me? Why was she here?
I had no idea why Ramsey Bennington, my job applicant—no, my failed job applicant—was here in my dad's bar. And I had no idea why I felt this rage simmering under my skin at the sight of someone touching her. I shook my h
ead to try and clear it. This was bullshit and just my desperate need to get laid, that was it. I tried to think of Sarah, my date for tomorrow. I didn't need to think protective or have any kind of thoughts about someone who chewed me out, cried, and spilled water in my office. This was stupid. I let go of the chair and moved forward. I glanced around the bar again, this time catching Brenda's eye. She nodded at me, and went back to work, making drinks. I carefully moved closer to the new employee. I planned to be professional and helpful.
Except now I saw the same guy who put his hand on her ass behind the bar, reaching for her. I saw Ramsey push him away and heard her scream something at him. I clenched my fists and squeezed so hard that I thought I might break one of my knuckles. I made my way behind the bar and let Ramsey center me as I placed my hands on her perfect shoulders. Since when were they perfect?
Ignoring my growing list of issues, I moved her aside, never taking my eyes off the asshole who had touched her. I grabbed his shirt, shocked that it wasn’t his neck, and pushed him through the bar, and groups of people, until we were outside. I pushed him onto the ground and placed my boot on his chest, shaking with the urge to hit him. While he was on the ground, I told him, “Don’t ever come back to this bar, and if you ever see that girl somewhere, keep your damn distance. You get me?”
He barely shook his head in acknowledgment but the fear in his eyes told me that he understood. I let him up and watched as he walked off, then I took a few minutes to breathe and calm down. What the fuck was going on with me? I pulled my hand through my hair and sat on the curb. I hadn't felt this kind of rage in years. Now it was back with a vengeance, and over a stranger? A crazy one at that? This was insane. I hated how much Ramsey affected me and that I seemed to have no control over it. She was like a virus working her way through my system; compromising everything in her path.