One Week at the Bar

Last call meant a lot of things for a lot of different people. For some it meant one more round to celebrate a friend's success, for others it meant mustering up their courage to ask out the woman they'd been exchanging flirtatious glances with at the end of the bar all night, and for many employees it was that alarm that alerted them of just about one hour left of work before they could head home, get off their feet, and relax.

I wasn't sure what it meant for me just yet, but I had a feeling it was going to mean something different each day for this entire week.

Sunday

"Last call!"

It was my first time ever shouting it out and I think I went a little too loud, judging by the jumps on the patrons around the bar. One of them laughed, the dark-skinned, dark-haired, dark-eyed, beauty with the smile that made me feel lighter than a feather. She ordered one more bourbon neat, I poured it for her, and decided that I'd partake in one to join her.

"Sherry."

"Phil."

The bourbon burned my throat, but the burn never matched the heat in my cheeks as Sherry smiled at me once more. Last call on Sunday apparently gave me a new feeling that I hadn't experienced in years.

Monday

Sherry was back at the same time as the night before, around 11:30 P.M. She informed me that she drove a limo for a company that she owned with a few friends, and she also was an Uber driver when business was a little slow. Both tonight and last night she had just finished with her Uber shifts and needed to unwind.

"Driving a limo, the passengers can be assholes, but they'll tell you what they want right away," Sherry said. "And a lot of them want peace and quiet. Which is nice. In an Uber, a lot of them want to talk. It's fine for the first few customers of the night, but then it keeps going, and the later into the shift it is, the drunker the customers are, and the worse the conversations get."

"I can see that." I quickly refreshed some beer mugs for the older couple behind me and returned to Sherry.

"But look who I'm telling, you must deal with this all the time." Sherry laughed.

"Eh, not really. This is only my second day."

"Your second day? What? But you're a natural!"

I laughed and blushed. "Let me clarify... I've done this before. Long time ago. Different bars. I don't actually work here, I'm just filling in for the week because the main bartender got hurt."

"Oh, how nice of you. She really owes you, huh?"

"No, wasn't a favor for her. A favor for her dad. He owns the place. He... well, anyway, yeah, I'm just temporary here."

"I see. So, then, he owes you."

I grabbed some empty glasses from the bar that belonged to the young ladies celebrating a birthday. I rinsed them quickly and then began drying them.

"So, ever drive anyone famous in a limo?"

"Hm. OK. Um, before we get to that, you have to tell me what your real job is." Sherry narrowed her eyes playfully.

"My regular job? Just a bunch of work people need around the house, you know, stuff being built, moved, taken apart, that type of stuff."

"Like a handyman?"

"Something like that."

"Is that how you met the owner?"

"Something like that."

"Did you get stuck on repeat?"

I laughed and looked down at my shoes. When I looked up, Sherry was still staring right at me with those same eyes, somehow more beautiful. I twisted the towel inside the already-dry glass so fast, a fire felt ready to start from the friction. The door burst open and several young men entered cackling, and I had to tend to them.

They drank a lot. They tipped well. They left before I had to yell out my new line. But I still had to yell it out for a few people.

"Last call!"

The only people left were the two couples at the end of the bar dressed in suits and dresses, and Sherry. I shared one more drink with her, and then after she paid, I got to cleaning the whole place up. I hustled to finish my work quickly; I wanted to be home as soon as possible so I could really relax and cherish the feeling of comfort in my old recliner. It was really speaking to me. I could visualize it in my head. It had been with me forever.

I laughed, alone in the bar. "Stupid chair."

Tuesday

Michelle was back, hobbling around, trying to organize things in the kitchen. The kitchen manager had to kick her out and tell her to go home. She laughed him off and rounded the corner, checking me out behind the bar.

"How's it going?" Michelle asked.

"Going good," I said. "I'm getting the hang of it."

"Yeah, Dad said you were great at this."

"Eh, I'm good enough."

"Well, I appreciate it. It's a big help. But the doctor said I'm healing fine and I can start again next week..."

"It's no rush!" I interjected. "Take as much time as you need. I'm happy to stay here, work something out with your dad if need be."

Michelle laughed. "No, I'm itching to get back. Love the job. Miss the job. You get it, right? Sometimes you don't want to leave."

"By the end of the week, I absolutely will not want to leave."

"I get it."

Michelle left, and most of the night was slow. I texted a bunch of my friends and acquaintances, asking them all the same things I'd been asking them for weeks. Some of them responded, but most didn't. Sherry didn't come in that night, but it got busier later in the evening and I made some decent money in tips.

"Last call!"

A few more people ordered drinks, the tabs were paid, and the place was cleared out. The kitchen manager finished his work, I finished mine, and we walked out together. I was going to have to learn this guy's name. I think it was Ramon? It was too late to ask now. But I had to find out.

Or I didn't have to. It probably wouldn't be consequential at all.

Wednesday

The sky was a strange dark blue all day, it had me thinking I was experiencing the longest night of my life. On this week? That'd be nice.

Michelle hobbled in again and was doing her best to organize things on the floor, tending to so many tables, constantly looking over her shoulder at the kitchen. Our eyes met at one point.

"What are you doing?" I asked. "Aren't you supposed to be off that thing? If you keep walking around it'll never... you know what? What am I telling you for? You know your body. You know you're good."

"Thank you!" Michelle slapped her leg and laughed. "That's what I've been telling everyone. Stupid doctors..."

"Hey, what are you doing, Michelle?" It was the kitchen manager coming out of the kitchen to yell at her. "You need to stay off that thing! Danny's orders! I don't want to see you straining yourself! Do I need to tell your dad?"

"Ugh, fine! I'll leave in a minute!"

Damn you... whatever your name is.

The nameless kitchen manager ducked back into the kitchen, and Michelle looked like she was going to listen to him. She didn't want to have to hear from her dad. No one wanted to hear from Danny.

Michelle asked me if I had been taking the tips home each night, but not in an accusatory way. I told her I was. She said she was surprised, because Danny had a strict rule that tips weren't supposed to be taken home until Saturday nights. No one knew why, but it was his rule, and it was strictly obeyed. I told her that Danny told me to take the tips every night, because he truly did say that. I'd never do anything to upset Danny in that way. Michelle believed me, but repeated that it was strange. She asked if I was saving the tips up for anything good, and I told her that I had been spending every cent of my tips every following morning.

Michelle cackled. "I like that! Living like there's no tomorrow, right?"

"Yup. That would be an apt expression."

Michelle said she'd be leaving but she was still lingering, looking around and who knows what. I had messages coming in from friends that I had to respond to with urgency. I was busy pecking out texts to multiple people, when I felt eyes staring at me. I looked up and it was Michelle.

"Anyone ever tell you you're a nervous texter?" Michelle asked.

"Uhh..."

"You're breaking a damn sweat, Phil."

"Ha! Uh, I'm a sweater."

"You're a something. Well, hey, thanks again for filling in this week. Dad's really gonna owe you for getting us out of this jam."

"Oh, no, not at all. I don't owe him... at all."

"Ha! Yeah, funny you say that, Dad always says that you should never owe another man anything. It's always better to be owed. Well, see ya, Phil!"

It was never good to owe Danny. I got back to my frantic texts, probably sweating a whole lot more, and then when a rush of customers came in, I got back to the job. The night was mostly uneventful, no Sherry, but a lot of the same regulars came in. At one point, I noticed that I was operating in a cloud of smoke and became confused since smoking sections had been banned in restaurants and bars for a long time now.

I saw the source of the smoke, and it was one of the other regulars. He was as thick as an ancient tree, and as old as one too, but he had those arched eyebrows and those beady eyes that told you he still had high energy levels. His red tie did not go well with his cheap suit, but no one would tell this boulder of a man that. And no one would tell him to put his cigarette out unless they wanted it to be put out in their eye. Danny had made it clear that Ren in the red tie was allowed to smoke.

He was a regular, and a very good customer. I asked what he did and he said he was a supplier.

"Oh, like all the booze?"

"Ha!"

Well, there's an answer for ya.

"Last call!"

Ren in the red tie was already gone, and the rest of the patrons paid their bills and left.

Thursday

Sherry had come back in at her usual time, but she had a strange look on her face that I couldn't quite place. It turned out, it was because she was watching me all night.

"Who are you texting?" Sherry asked.

"Uh, friends."

"It looks like you're discussing a nuclear warhead."

"No, just... trying to make plans."

"Well, after you make your plans, you should make plans to relax because you look like you're about to drop dead."

I gave a fake chuckle and attempted to make small talk with her. The small talk eventually became real as my texts melted away out of my brain. Sherry and I got to know each other really well.

My phone buzzed.

"Sully came through!"

"Huh?" Sherry was confused by my outburst.

"Oh, uh, plans. He can hang out... tomorrow night. I'm excited because... I haven't seen Sully in a while."

"Oh, so you aren't free Friday night. Too bad." Sherry gave me a sly smirk that locked my knees up like they were made of wood.

"Last call!"

Friday

Sherry was there when I got the text back from Sully. My stomach lurched and I nearly dropped like a sack of potatoes. I literally grabbed onto the rack of mixers to stop from collapsing and almost ripped it free from its industrial screws. Sherry asked me what happened and I told her my plans got canceled. She made a joke about how I must have really wanted to hang out with my friend because I looked devastated.

I was.

Sherry then reminded me that I was now free, and so was she. She asked if I was going to be hungry when I got off of work. I knew I wouldn't be because I couldn't stomach anything, so I told her I wouldn't be hungry. But I told her I'd be interested in putting anything else in my mouth.

Sherry gasped at the innuendo and I suddenly realized what it sounded like. I clarified that I meant alcohol... and then Sherry told me that was a disappointment. I was the one who gasped next.

"We haven't even gone on a date yet, though," Sherry said.

"Shit. You're right." My shoulders slumped.

"There's always next week."

"Next week." I lifted my head with new confidence. "Here's a crazy idea. What if we do things backwards?"

"What, like a date next week? And tonight..."

"It sounds like the typical line from a guy, right? And I won't blame you for turning me down. But let me tell you, I swear on my life, I swear on everything, let's say I wake up on Sunday..."

"Right."

"Then, I would absolutely want to see you, take you wherever you want, do whatever you want any day of the week. But tonight, can we... I just need... shit, that's the wrong thing to say. It's not a need. It's a want. Sherry, you are just..."

"Phil, you are bad at talking." Sherry grinned. "But you are excellent at conveying a point."

My theory was that there was no such thing as bad sex. The worst sex was good. Good was good, but oh, how I always wished to have excellent sex, incredible sex. I'd had great sex a handful of times, but so often me and my former partners couldn't find a groove. Sherry and I moved together like we had lived in the same groove our whole lives and only now just found each other. She had given me the most amazing night of my entire life... just in time.

Hold on, did I ever say...

"Last call!"

Saturday

Sherry had told me she wouldn't be able to come in that night and said she'd see me Sunday. I told her the first thing I'd want to see upon opening my eyes on Sunday, was to be her. She laughed and told me I spoke in strange ways sometimes, but that she could get used to it.

I told her I hoped that was true.

I was at the bar early, texting friends, texting acquaintances, texting anyone who I had ever talked to before in my life. Not many people were responding, and then one customer got aggravated with me for not getting his drink fast enough. I set my phone down and got back to working on my last day of work... for the week.

Ren in the red tie showed up at some point, and he ordered a beer. It was Saturday, so I was busy with plenty of customers, but I kept making sure to check on Ren. He never needed a new beer, he was nursing it so hard that I expected to turn around at some point and see him taking its vitals. But he was going through cigarette after cigarette after cigarette.

I busied myself with all the work needing to be done, and I stressed over if I was doing a good enough job... I didn't know why. The only thing to snap me out of working trance was a text that came through from Eggers.

"I can come through, tonight or early tomorrow."

Oh, glory be! Eggers came through! I told him to come to the bar to drop the stuff off, and said I'd be closing it down. He said he'd arrive either before it closed or shortly after, but to not expect him before midnight.

"Fair enough. You're saving my life."

My stress was instantly lifted, and I worked with joy, making drinks, serving happy people. I was a happy person too. We were all happy people. And I would be ecstatic when I woke up tomorrow morning, and I could go see Sherry.

"Last call!"

I kicked everyone out, and this time, the phrase meant to me, happiness... a second chance... a chance to relax.

A cloud of smoke wafted in the parking lot, and someone moved through it and towards the restaurant. Even though the doors were locked, the person opened the door.

It was Danny.

I told Danny the good news, how I was going to have all the money that I owed him in just under an hour. I told him we could wait together for my delivery, and then I'd be debt free.

"It's past midnight," Danny said. "You know how I am about deadlines."

"But all the money, I'm going to have it in an hour or less!"

"You helped us out while Michelle was recovering, it was a big help. And you got the extra week to pay off your debt. That extra week ended an hour ago. Time's up, Phil."

"But what's another hour? Don't you want the money?"

Danny led me outside. "What I want is for deadlines to be met. I'm serious about deadlines."

Danny let me choose between a knife and a gun because he was a nice guy. I chose a gun because it seemed less painful. I finally got to hear what a silencer sounded like... nothing like in the movies. No, it was a whispering kind of two-syllable noise, like it was saying, "Last call!"