Making Peace

by Sasha Goldie

  4

  Carson

  The paperwork in front of me blurred, all the words mixing together like a paperwork stew. I hadn’t had enough coffee. After getting up early the day before, then working until well after close, I’d gone home expecting to sleep like a baby.

  Of course, I hadn’t. I’d spent the entire night dreaming and thinking about Max. He’d always been attractive, but before it had been in a more delicate way. Now his features were chiseled, and his body much larger and filled out. He still wasn’t huge, but he certainly put me to shame. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d hit a gym. Probably back in Seattle. I hiked and swam some in the summer, but not enough to consider it an exercise regime. My time was spent running circles around the bar. At least I usually got my cardio in. Maybe when Corey was full-time manager, I could take more time for self-care.

  Max had mentioned hoping we could be friends again, but I already knew I wanted more than that. He was a great potential relationship, and I wanted to explore that as soon as possible. We’d been so compatible as kids, until I’d ruined it by saying the most insensitive thing imaginable.

  Yawning, I stuffed my P&L statement back into my drawer. No way I would be able to focus on it. We’d just opened for the day anyway, and I’d be needed out on the floor. It was Corey’s day off.

  My head jerked up as I heard a commotion out in the bar. "Fuck this shit," a shout drifted through the door. What the hell? I jumped up and ran to my office door, throwing it open to see what was going on.

  The problem child that I still hadn’t dealt with was dealing with himself. Nick had been a hire I regretted. He was lazy, rude, and I was pretty sure he’d been skimming out of the tip jar on the counter when nobody was looking. I’d been avoiding firing him, though, because his parents were regular customers. It would be awkward.

  "You’re such a bitch," he said to Pearl, who was trying to get between him and the customer he’d apparently gone off on.

  "Hey," I shouted. "That’s enough."

  Nick turned and started in on me. "And you, walking around here like your shit doesn’t stink."

  I narrowed my eyes in on him. "I walk around here like that because it doesn’t stink. You need to leave, now."

  "Fuck you, man. I hope your bar goes under." Nick’s aggression was surprising. I’d known he had a bad attitude, but not that he was this angry.

  "That’s enough," Max’s voice boomed out. Nick looked at him and deflated a bit. He didn’t want to take Max on. I wouldn’t have either if I was Nick. Of course, I wasn’t dumb enough to get myself in that position.

  Hurrying around the bar, I watched Max out of the corner of my eye. I hadn’t even realized he was there. Our few early-bird customers stared at the sullen server in shock. A beer was spilled on the floor and Nick was in the process of untying his apron. Max moved across the room toward us.

  "I quit," Nick muttered as he threw the apron on the bar.

  "Well, that’s good, now I don’t have to fire you," I hissed at him. "Get out of here."

  Nick stepped forward, like he was going to threaten me or try to get physical. I bristled, but Max was the one that made Nick stop. I felt him behind me and turned my head to see he’d walked up close behind me. "You sure you want to do that?" he said in the same deadly voice he’d scared me with the day before. He wasn’t joking around this time.

  I tried to remember he was being scary, not sexy, as my back shivered from his nearness and deep, husky voice. He could turn that smoky voice on me any day, as long as it wasn’t motivated with anger like it was toward Nick.

  Nick swallowed and rethought his decision to try to be intimidating. Turning without a word, he walked out the front door, shoving chairs out of his way instead of walking around them. I wanted to slap him silly, but better to let him make his scene as long as he left without hurting anyone.

  "I’ll follow to make sure he leaves," Max said and walked behind Nick and through the door.

  "Wow," I announced to the room full of shocked patrons. "I know there are not many of us here right now, but I think everyone needs a round. Any takers?" The room had about half a dozen people nursing beers, and they all raised their hands. I laughed and turned to the bar, where Pearl was angrily already pulling out bottles for the customers. "You’re not a bitch," I told her. "Far from it."

  "I know," she said. "I’m not hurt, but I’m mad. I’ve got half a mind to call his damn mama." I’d forgotten Pearl and Nick’s mom were old friends. "She didn’t raise him like that. That boy needs a knot jerked in his tail." She slammed the bottles onto a tray and walked out to give them to the waiting customers.

  Max walked back in. "He’s gone." He passed me as I walked to apologize to the customer that Nick had offended the most. My eyes stayed on Max’s back as he went into the back room to get the mop. I apologized profusely and told the customer, an older woman I’d never seen before, that her drinks were on the house for the night. As I walked back, Max came out with the mop. "I guess you need a server tonight?" he asked with a laugh as he mopped up the spilled drink.

  "That would be amazing," I said. "Come in the back and we’ll get you officially hired."

  "Make sure her drinks are comped tonight," I told Pearl as I shook out Nick’s apron. “The lady Nick was such a jerk to.” He’d obviously laundered it before coming in. It smelled fresh and looked clean. "Here you go." I turned and handed the apron to Max. "Your uniform."

  He looked down at his jeans and T-shirt featuring one of the heavy metal bands he loved. "What should I wear?"

  "It’s fine today," I said. "Tomorrow night, be here at three thirty and wear jeans and a black shirt. Doesn’t matter the style, just don’t let it be faded."

  He nodded. "I can do that," he said as stowed the mop. He followed me into the back room.

  "Pearl will train you," I said as I looked for my paper applications. "Then Corey is starting official training as soon as they open up the new dining area." Half my bar was blocked off with tarps and caution tape. The workers had knocked down one wall and expanded the space so it was twice the size it had been before. We had an agreement with the construction company that they would only work while we were closed, which they loved. They had to knock off before four every day.

  Except for the ugly wall, I didn’t want my customers to have to deal with construction noise.

  "When will it be open?" he asked as he started filling out the application.

  "Should be next week if all goes well," I said hopefully. "The kitchen is nearly done and they’re doing the finishing touches on the dining room. It looks great." He’d see plenty of it soon, so I didn’t bother with a tour. "We’ll start getting busy here in a few minutes, so I’ll be picking up some of Nick’s slack while you learn. Sorry, there’s no official training regimen, we just sort of throw you in. You ever mixed a drink before?"

  I watched him while I waited on him to finish what he was writing on the paper. He had beautiful handwriting, flowy and cursive. "Uh, no," he said. "Except for simple stuff in a blender."

  "That’s okay, you’ll learn, and after next week you’ll be serving food, not making drinks. It’s kind of good you’ll be starting in the bar," I said, thinking of the other reason it was good he was working for me. I refused to flirt with employees. "Servers that know how to make a drink always do better, because if the food sales are slow, you can tend the bar a bit and make more tips." At least, that had been the case at the bar I’d managed in Seattle.

  "We have cheat sheets, and you can easily serve drafts and bottles, which are our biggest sellers anyway."

  He finished filling out his application, and I handed him the tax paperwork. Had to make it all above-board. I didn’t do anything half-ass, not even for friends. As soon as I got him settled with Pearl, I’d have to document Nick’s episode and resignation.

  5

  Max

  "Hey, Daisy," I called over the music to the diner owner as she walked in the door with her husband. He looked
less than pleased to be out and about. Duke was a homebody, and always had been. "You two out for a date?”

  Duke looked around with a grumpy expression. “Music’s loud.” At least, I was pretty sure that was what he said. The music was loud.

  "It’s our anniversary," Daisy exclaimed. "We managed to get the diner covered, and I told Duke I wanted to try one of Carson’s brews." She winked at me. "I enjoy the occasional tipple, you know."

  I hadn’t known that about her, but Daisy could do no wrong in my eyes. “Happy Anniversary! Tipple away, Daisy. Sit anywhere," I said after giving her a kiss on the cheek. Duke wasn't the cheek-kissing type, of course. He got a slap on the shoulder.

  The construction on the kitchen had finished early, and Corey had given us a crash course in serving so they could get it open. This was our first Saturday with the kitchen open, and the place was packed. Corey had hired too many servers, speculating that a couple would quit. He said a couple always quit.

  I followed the older couple with my eyes as I grabbed a tray full of drinks for another table. They were sitting in my section, so after delivering the drinks, I took Duke’s and Daisy's orders. "I want whatever your favorite beer is," Daisy said.

  "I want a Bud Light," Duke said in a surly voice. "Nothing wrong with good American beer."

  "It's one of our best sellers," I said, totally unsure if that was true or not. I figured it would make Duke happy to hear, and he did brighten up a bit.

  "And here was me thinking you only carried fancy brews for college kids," he said. "How much is a pitcher?"

  I quoted him our pitcher price for domestic and he shook his head. "Cheaper to stay home. But still, good to know."

  Daisy winked at me. I hoped the news that we had his favorite beer would cheer him up and make their anniversary more fun.

  Carson walked out of the office and made his circuit. He liked to hit the floor every hour or so and check on the customers, show his face, make sure everyone was happy. Since the kitchen opened, he'd spent most of his time in there, learning all he could about running a kitchen. He would be in charge on Corey's off days, though Corey had managed to find a sous-chef that would be able to cook.

  I only had four tables in my rotation, thanks to being overstaffed, so when Carson ran over to me for help, it was easy to hand them off to the two other servers on duty that night, even though we were slammed.

  "The new bartender just quit," he said, totally exasperated. "Can you help?"

  "Of course," I said, heading for the kitchen. Both servers were in there grabbing food. "Can you two take over my tables?" I asked. "I'm going to go to bartend."

  They both nodded, so I gave them the order sheets for all four tables and updated them on the customers' progress. "I appreciate it."

  "I'm glad for the tips," Martha said. She was a single mom and had served before her marriage. She'd told me that the timing had been perfect. Her husband moved out and moved to Portland, and she had to return to work.

  "She's a dream," Carson said as we headed back to the bar. "Works her ass off. If she keeps it up like that, I'm giving her a raise."

  Every night I'd worked, Carson had as well. Corey’d taken one night off early in the week, wanting to be in the kitchen for the first weekend shifts. Carson had said he could handle having no nights off. Part of being the boss.

  Carson was about to drive me crazy, though. He moved around the bar, comfortable and at home, greeting customers and employees alike with his friendly, open attitude. Every time he’d passed me in the week and a half I’d worked for him, he’d had to fucking touch me.

  Normally, I hated being touched. But when he did it—a pat on the arm, his fingertips on my shoulder. Squeezing past me between the tables that were probably a little bit too close together. Brushing past each other in the kitchen.

  It all added up to me getting very frustrated. He was sexy, and funny, and kind, and damn it, I didn’t want to develop another crush. I needed to focus on getting my mind right, coming to terms with my new body, and finding out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life.

  Instead I’d spent all my spare time trying to convince my mind not to be stuck on Carson.

  His voice, his touch, his sense of humor, loyalty. Damn it, I was going again.

  Pearl worked her magic behind the bar, but the line was long, so I asked if she wanted to tag team. "Sure," she said gratefully. "You do orders and serve, and I'll mix and pour."

  We'd started doing it that way the weekend before when my line kept getting longer because it took me so long to mix drinks using the recipe cards. She had them memorized and didn't have to look anything up.

  I took an order and wrote each drink on its own napkin. We usually served the drinks with their own napkins anyway, so no waste. I knew most bartenders did it all from memory, but hey, our system worked.

  I took over at the register and the next person in line walked up. He ordered two longneck imports and a Long Island Iced Tea. I wrote the names on the napkins and slid them to Pearl, who was already taking the lids off the bottles of beer. She'd heard him. As we moved on, she'd get too busy mixing to hear any orders, thus the napkins. As he ran his card, she quickly mixed the Long Island and by the time I handed him his receipt, all three drinks were waiting on him. I made sure the writing on the napkins faced downward. He grabbed the drinks and walked to his table, the entire transaction probably less than two minutes.

  "We're a good team," she said as I greeted the next customer.

  I smiled at her and nodded as I pressed the buttons on the register. Writing down the drinks on fresh napkins, I froze as she continued talking. "We should arrange to have the same night off and go get some drinks ourselves."

  My smile wasn't so easy as I made change for the customer. He stuffed a dollar in the tip jar and grabbed the two drafts Pearl had drawn up for him. "I'm not really looking for, you know, a relationship," I said. I tried to speak as quietly as I could, but someone had the jukebox going and the place was packed. The din wasn't a big deal until a private conversation was necessary. Then it was hard to tell how loud to speak.

  "I'm not either," she said. "Just a friend."

  She was probably twice my age, though attractive. And I was almost positive she could work circles around me.

  "I’d love to grab a drink with a friend," I replied. Her question had raised my anxiety though, and I knew once it was there, it wouldn’t want to leave. I hadn’t had much anxiety since starting at the bar, which had been shocking. I’d figured all the people constantly nearby would make me regress and ruin some of the progress I’d made since leaving the service, but I felt at home in the bar. Safe. I knew Carson was the reason for it.

  Carson walked around the bar to grab a beer and bumped into my side. "Thanks for the help," he said before running off again. I didn’t even have time to tell him it was no problem. Watching him interact with his customers, I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to press him against the wall and cup his cheeks in my hands.

  "Hello?" A small woman snapped her fingers in front of my face. "Are you okay?" She wasn’t mad, just trying to get me to take her order. I’d just been standing there staring at Carson.

  I looked around guiltily before smiling at her. "Sorry, got lost in my thoughts." Peering at Pearl out of the corner of my eye, I realized she knew exactly where my mind had gone.

  To her credit, she just gave me a knowing look and a wink. Shit. Maybe she realized why I didn’t want a relationship with her.

  The rest of the night passed without incident. I managed to keep my eyes in my own damn head and Pearl never mentioned the moment of staring.

  When the last customer stumbled out the door to a waiting cab, Carson locked the door and leaned against it. "Shit," he said. "That was an exhausting night.

  The kitchen had closed at last call, so Corey and his sous-chef were already done cleaning and had a table in the corner, drinking and playing cards. Well, Corey was drinking tea. He'd told me about hi
s recovery. I really liked the guy. "Come join us," he called to me, Pearl, and Carson.

  "Can't," Pearl called back. "Gotta go." She'd finished wiping down the bar already, working while the last customers finished their drinks so she could leave as soon as possible. She wasn't one to hang around after hours and unwind. I loved it.

  I finished drying the last glass and placed it on the rack, ready for the next day. Carson was putting up the chairs, so I grabbed one and helped until they were all up.

  The servers had mopped most of the floors as the tables cleared out, and I'd already done behind the bar. All that was left was under the table of the last customer, so I grabbed the mop and gave it a once-over.

  Carson took the bucket to the back and rinsed it out as I grabbed us both a beer out of the fridge and popped off the caps. We sat down with Corey and Liam, his sous-chef, and they dealt us in.

  "What a great first Saturday for the kitchen," Corey said. "We did more than I projected, and I projected generously."

  Carson grinned. "I knew it was a good idea. As soon as I knew we were losing the food truck, I started planning."

  We played a few hands, and I called it. I'd been running around crazy all day and wanted to go home and count my tips. "All right, guys. I'm going home."

  I handed my cards over and stood up. "See you guys tomorrow."

  As I opened the door to go out to my car, Carson's voice stopped me. "Hang on, Max, I'll walk you out."

  He followed me out the door. "I just wanted to thank you for stepping over to the bar tonight. I know you had to give up the tips from the tables you had when I asked you."

  "Hey, it's no big deal," I said, looking at him out of the corner of my eye as we walked around the building toward the employee parking lot.