Painting Flowers

“Hey, honey. Another Budweiser down my way if you don’t mind,” the drunk man slurred and slumped over the wooden bar top. There were seven visible beer bottles and several tucked away under his bar stool. All empty.

“I’m going to have to cut you off,” I told him bluntly. I really had no time to deal with lonely drunk men. Really, they should take their depressive rain cloud attitudes out of my way and to the 53 & 3rd bar down the street. At this point, I didn’t even care if Cain lost the business.

Before the drunkard could make a fumbled reply, I turned away from him and went to replenish my store of lime wedges under the front counter top, knocking the little drink umbrellas from their resting place. I left the scatted mess behind and quickly dunked into the backroom which was only separated with a flimsy curtain. When the ceiling lights rotated in that direction, the whole bar populace could make out the shadows behind the sheer fabric which made the sexual tension between Cain and I a little difficult to act on.

I almost nicked my finger with the butcher knife when I decapitated the lime fruit. The juice splayed out in front of me and ran down my fingers, “Shit.” Slicing limes had never been part of the training and if it was pass-fail, I definitely wouldn’t have a job at The Thunderbird even if Cain thought my dimples were cute.

“Need some help there, Parish?” Cain came up from behind me and stood an inch too close to be considered professional. All I could think about was the swirled designed tattooed on the right underside of his arm.

I busied myself and crudely resumed my massacre of the lime, “No, I think I got it. Might turn up to work tomorrow without a thumb, but hey it’s all worth it.”

My boss chuckled and leaned a hip on the table beside me, swiping a stack of generic napkins out of his way, “That would make my insurance bill shoot through the roof.”

I snorted obnoxiously, “Hell, if I was missing a finger, I’d take my case all the way to the Supreme Court. I’m not messing around.”

“Here, let me help you,” In a cliché move, Cain wrapped his arms from behind me and took charge of the knife, threading his large fingers on my hand. I allowed him that much though I secretly felt empowered on the inside having this guy seemingly wrapped around my finger.

“Very smooth,” I commented quietly. “I wonder how many of your other barmaids you’ve seduced into bed with you.”

Cain laughed whole heartedly, “Audrey, I think this is crossing some professional boundaries. You came onto me. Remember?”

“No, I don’t remember coming,” I told him dryly, referencing the lck of sexual completion during a hot and heavy session in the supply closet earlier in the week. “In fact, I didn’t come at all.”

“You’re such an asshole.” He growled playfully and nipped at my ear.

I pushed him firmly away and smirked, “Just doing my job, boss.” With that, I gave Cain a lingering kiss on the cheek just for fun. It was sort of fucked up how I liked the way he squirmed in response to my dominant move.

Before I left the back line, Cain called after me, “Tonight after work?”

Carrying the freshly cut limes away, I hooted with laughter, “Honey, you’re not that lucky.”

The night began to move quickly after that. Maybe it was because my mind was elsewhere, caught up in the interplay of morals and lust in regards to Cain. Was it terrible to have a quick little fling? No strings, I silently promised.

Relationships were not an easy topic to approach these days and I’d do everything in my power to keep my mind occupied with my latest quarry. I felt almost like the bait on the end of a fishing line, ready to reel in a hungry fish. It probably wasn’t good to go out looking for meaningless physical touching, but I was lonely.

It was a regular occurrence for the traveling customers to try and sweet talk me into a date with them or gruffly recite hesitant pick-up lines. Maybe the entire male population was just looking for scraps to scarf down, but I liked to believe I was pretty. As vain as it sounded, I knew I was.

After mixing another Manhattan, I caught a glimpse of a passing face that looked oddly familiar. With more scrutiny, I recalled the man; it was the guy I met a few nights ago. For the love of God, I could not remember his name. I was almost ninety percent positive it was Jake.

I didn’t feel like dealing with that drama, so I avoided his eyes and wiped spilt beer from the wood and soon I didn’t even remember he was there. That is, until we ran into each other behind the back curtain.

Once again, I was cutting limes. It seemed like the job that never ended in the bar industry; somewhere in the room someone needed a wedge of lime. And me being the newest recruit made me the go-to girl for all the shit jobs. I was sure that if I slept with Cain I might become a manager, but I wasn’t ready to get involved with my boss quite yet.

But the stranger from the night before, barreled into me and made me yelp out loud. Fortunately, the music was blaring classic oldies and no one heard the scream. “Sorry, sorry.” The guy steadied me with his hand and then recognition donned on him, “Andrea?”

“Audrey.” I corrected for the second time. My name didn’t seem too hard to remember, but apparently it must have been in a foreign language. It was a little hypocritical for me to think that when I had forgotten his name as well. “And your…?”

“Jack.” He looked taken aback, “You don’t remember me?”

“I do, but I meet a lot of people too. Can’t keep track of all the name,” I shrugged and scoped the area for a distraction to excuse myself politely from the conversation. There was nothing overtly wrong with the scene, so I waited it out. “So what brings you to The Thunderbird again?”

I really hated small talk. It was one of my pet peeves. Probably the worst thing about having to deal face to face with customers is talking to them and having to explain every bit of the alcohol that goes into making a drink. Honestly, they should just rate the drinks on how quickly they get you shit-faced. It would be more helpful.

“Alcohol,” replied Jack simply.

“Guess I should have figured that,” I couldn’t help but laugh though I shifted on my feet back and forth wishing he wouldn’t bring up what he was about to say.

“So I woke up and you weren’t there.” He said.

“Yep.” There was no point in denying it.

“And I found a cigarette in my sink,” continued the guitarist, studying me with questioning eyes.

“Guilty,” I shrugged.

Jack looked exasperated, “Why?”

“Well, I started smoking about two years ago and quit for a few months. Now I’m back on the nicotine train and never been happier,” I finished with great sarcasm though I couldn’t help but inch toward my purse where my pack of Marlboros was stashed.

“No, no. I mean, why did you leave like that? You could have at least stayed for breakfast; I mentally prepared a meal in my head.” His tone was accusing.

“You were asleep,” I told him bluntly. “You weren’t getting up anytime soon.”

Jack laughed loudly though he seemed hurt, “Like that’s why you walked out. I mean, shit, you could have at least given me a head up. Like a note or something, ‘Hey just letting you know I’m going to leave without letting you know. No big deal.’ That would have been okay.”

“Damn, you’re getting really offended.” Now I needed those Marlboros.

I left Jack’s side and hunted down the rectangle in my purse while all the while half-listening to Jack mumble on and on about how I was just going to walk out of the bar like I did to him the night before. I rolled my eyes, “Want to join me?” To the chaos, I shouted, “Going for a smoke!”

With that, I pushed open the alleyway entrance door and walked out into the night. It took me less than three seconds to light the cigarette, inhale, and exhale. Jack watched me all the while as if I were about to bolt from his sight.

“You need to chill out,” I wisely told him, “Take a puff or two of this and it’ll help you.” I studied his clear eyes, “You haven’t even had a drink yet either.”

“Is that surprising?” questioned Jack. “I was going to order something and then tried to find the bathrooms but apparently you need a map for that since the building layout makes absolutely no sense. And then I ran into you.”

“Glad you did.” I took a puff.

“Was that sarcasm?”

I smirked, “Course not. And by the way, we don’t have any bathrooms inside. People keep asking about it, but the closest one is the restaurant down the way. It’s not far.”

Jack’s looked at me wide-eyed, “Not having bathrooms must be illegal.”

“That’s Cain’s problem, not mine.”

“Cain run’s this, I guess?” He gestured to the graffiti on the brick walls and the bundle of trash resting next to the exit sign.

“Beautiful, right?” I asked dryly.

“Pretty much. But I had no idea you worked here.” Jack told me, leaning up against the colorful artwork on the walls. It stood out in the moonlit backdrop.

“I didn’t either until about four days ago,” I chuckled softly and flicked the flaming cigarette stub to the ground. Before I could, Jack smeared the ash along the asphalt. “Cain offered me the job out of nowhere and he seems okay.”

“Have you slept with him?” Jack teased lightly.

I shocked myself with the honest answer, “Not yet. But it’ll probably happen after closing one night.”

His brow furrowed, “Why would you do that?”

“Fun?” I questioned.

Rolling his eyes, Jack’s replied, “You don’t deserve that bullshit from a guy. I could treat you so much better than that, Audrey.”