Sweet Gig
Valerie
I’ve been tending bar at Skip’s since I turned eighteen. Skip is a friend of my daddy’s who watches my back and in return, I do my best to keep his regulars happy.
I am always pleasant and flirty but I make it a habit not to ever get too friendly with the patrons because no one needs that kind of jealousy or drama in their life. That’s how it is in a small town, you don’t pee where you eat. I know most of the people who hang out here in one way or another.
Some from church, some from school - most just from the bar. The regulars give the best tips because I memorized what they want and they don’t have to ask. It’s all sort of second nature at this point and I get to listen to good music and socialize almost every night. I know that it’s a pretty sweet gig I’ve got for myself, and I like it here.
Don’t get me wrong, I still like it but there is this one little thing bothering me. Last week a new guy started coming in every night after ten. His routine is like clockwork, he sits by himself and he never talks to anyone. He orders exactly two beers every time and just sits there and people watches while he drinks them.
The guy is pleasant enough but I would hardly call him friendly. He only talks when he has to, but he tips well so I guess I shouldn’t complain.
Who am I kidding? He’s also been some serious eye candy for me.
I wish I knew why I was intrigued by him. Maybe it’s just because I can’t figure him out. He seems like a biker; he wears a black leather jacket and jeans that sit just below his hips with black boots and chains on his sides - but I’ve never seen a motorcycle.
I also know that he has full sleeves of tattoos on both of his arms, but I don’t know what they are yet. I only get to study them when he takes his jacket off which isn’t often.
Most of the boys in Holt grow up, pop beer bellies, and go bald but not this one. His black hair just barely dusts his shoulders and I’ve not had the privilege of seeing him naked, but I don’t have to, he makes it very easy to check him out with his tight t-shirts and there is no beer belly in sight.
His beard is kept neat and there is something about his face, a sadness, a softness. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something behind those bright green eyes.
The things I imagine I would do to him are enough to make me blush. He is so damn sexy. I’ve seen hot men before but I usually know better, I stay away from them. The hotter they are, the deeper they burn. I don’t need to be hurt right now.
Somehow I wish I could pretend to be someone else just for a night so I could experience him. I think that I could seduce him and it would probably be the best sexual experience of my life, but I know I would get attached. He is the one person in this bar who makes me want to break my rules about getting involved with patrons.
I’m trying to keep my head about me so I won’t jump his bones but I’ve made it my mission to get him to smile tonight. I haven’t figured out exactly how I am going to do it yet. The sick little game I am playing with myself gives me butterflies and makes me feel nervous. So I busy myself taking care of my other customers while I wait for him to show up.
I’ve dated but the thing about a small town is that once you use up the high school dating pool, it’s pretty rare for anyone new to come around. This is a big opportunity I’m not sure I’m willing to miss out on. He doesn’t seem like he talks to anyone, so maybe he’s not the same as a regular patron.
When he walks into the bar my nerves go into high alert. I don’t understand why this is happening and realistically it’s all in my mind, so I do my best to shake myself back to the here and now.
As I walk over to him, I instinctively put a little extra swing in my step and do my best to smile flirtatiously, “The usual?”
He makes eye contact with a slight smirk and just nods in agreement. This is going to be harder than I thought.
Who knows, maybe the guy is married or completely unavailable. I have no idea if he is interested in me at all, but getting him to smile seems like an achievable goal so I’m not giving up.
I lean over a little farther than necessary, attempting to look sexy while I grab a frosted mug from the cooler. I’ve been told that my butt is one of my better assets and in these jean shorts, I know it’s looking the part.
I haven’t looked back at him yet but I can feel eyes on me, I just hope they are his. While I pull the tap to fill his mug I sway my hips to the beat of the music and continue my sassy walk as I bring his beer to him. I can’t believe I’m putting on such a show, but something tells me he is worth it. I slide his mug toward him and smile but his face is steel, it doesn’t move.
I can’t help but feel a little defeated but I’m not ready to give up. The fact that he’s not all over the flirty bartender makes him even hotter.
I consider rounding the bar and sitting on his lap to get his attention but my cooler head prevails. So, I take care of a few other customers before I make my way back over to him. The best thing about slow nights is just getting to chat with people, and tonight all my attention is on Mr. Mysterious.
“So, haven’t seen you around here much before last week, where are you from?” I smile and twirl a strand of my long, black hair around my finger.
“Atlanta,” he huffs.
“What brings you here to our tiny little town?”
“Family.”
Okay, the one-word answers are starting to make me feel like he just wants me to leave him alone. But I can’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he’s one of those tortured souls that needs extra prodding.
Maybe my goal isn’t as achievable as I thought but I’m not giving up yet. I’ll just go back to dealing with the other patrons until he needs a refill.
“Valerie, help us out with something,” Beau Pruitt calls out.
So I head over to where he and his brother Briggs are sitting, these two are boisterous party boys but they mean no harm.
“What are you up to?” I smile as I lean on the bar.
“We’re trying to decide who is the best brother,” Briggs chimes in.
“That’s confusing, best at what? Being a brother?” I eye them both suspiciously.
“We decided that whoever chugs a beer the fastest wins,” Beau chuckles.
I can’t help shaking my head at them, “Okay so what do you need me for?”
Beau starts to pour a glass of beer from the pitcher on the counter, “You’re the ref!”
“Oh okay, well first, let me teach you how to pour a beer,” I laugh as I see most of his mug full of foam.
