1
Foster
Smile big.
Give a wink or two.
Flirt, but not too much.
Fill those pockets with tips.
Those were the rules that played on a loop in my mind as I parked my car and made my way toward the back entrance of Clancy’s. They were the rules that Mina, the assistance manager, had told me my first night there. She was the poor soul who got suckered into training me when I started last week, but under her watchful eye and patience, I was mixing drinks and pulling beers in no time. But don’t ask me to do any bar tricks, because I wasn’t there—not yet. Mina on the other hand? I could tell her skills were wasted at Clancy’s. It was a low-key kind of place with a calm crowd who preferred to sip scotch while listening to the smooth jazz from whatever band was playing. And when I finally asked her why she preferred to stay there rather than go somewhere else where she could show off her bottle flipping and drink making, she shrugged and asked me why I thought she should.
It wasn’t really an answer, but as I watched the way she interacted with customers and kept shoving money into the tip jar, I finally understood. She was comfortable there and had an easy camaraderie with the patrons.
I smoothed down the black, button-down shirt with Clancy’s stitched in white thread above the right breast pocket and made sure it was tucked neatly in my black dress pants. I ran my hand through my hair, smoothing the wavy locks into place, and then pulled open the door.
It was much different seeing the place fully lit as we got everything ready for the evening. The black booths, chairs, and high-back stools that were currently empty would soon be filled with customers as they drank away their worries, gossiped with friends, or came to listen to the music. Soon, the lights would dim, endless chatter would fill the air, and whatever band was on would provide the perfect background music to complete the ambience that was Clancy’s. We just had to get through the next few hours until we opened and the first customers trickled in.
After punching in on the computer, I washed my hands and walked behind the bar where Mina was working. Her real name was Wilhelmina, and the only reason I knew that was because I saw it when we were at the time clock my first night there. She’d threatened me with bodily harm I knew she’d make good on if I ever used her full name, so I’d never called her anything but Mina.
“Right on time,” she called out when she saw me.
I could see why men were drawn to her. With her curly red hair pulled back in a low ponytail, she was absolutely stunning. And her friendly smile made her natural beauty stand out even more. Too bad she only had eyes for one person—her girlfriend, Erica, who worked as a Realtor—and they’d been together for three years.
“Punctuality is my middle name,” I quipped.
“Foster Punctuality? Your parents must love unique names,” she deadpanned.
“You have no idea.”
Mina laughed and together we worked on filling the shelves with glasses the dishwasher had cleaned the night before, making sure the bottles were stocked and bag-in-a-boxes of soda were full. One was near empty, so I retrieved a spare box from the stock room and placed it behind the counter when the time came to replace it.
“There’s a new band coming tonight,” Mina informed me. “I haven’t heard them play, yet, but George told me they come highly recommended.”
George was the owner of Clancy’s and my new boss. Evidently the bar was named after his father, Clancy Hobart, and he was a huge lover of jazz. That love was something that became ingrained in George’s DNA from birth.
“Even in my short amount of time here I know George is particular about who he lets play. If he allowed Shapiro Entertainment to book them, then they must be good.”
Mina informed me that most acts were booked through an agency, and that Shapiro Entertainment was the one George used most. Once he found something he liked, he stuck with it, so to allow a new act to come in meant they must’ve been stellar for him to take that chance. And even though I was more of a soft-rock kind of guy, I was starting to appreciate the soothing sounds that jazz had to offer. But then again, I kind of had to since it was my job.
“Is George here?” I asked, because I barely saw the elusive bar owner.
He was the one to interview me. After giving me a thorough onceover and looking at me with a shrewdness in his eyes that made me squirm, he’d shocked me by deciding to take a chance on me, despite my lack of skill.
“I like you. You don’t know shit about bartending, but something tells me you can learn. Can you start tomorrow night?” he asked after I was positive I’d bombed the interview.
I was grateful because I needed a job after a messy split from an ex-fiancée and a move back home to lick my wounds. It was only supposed to be temporary, until I found a more stable nine-to-five job with benefits and a retirement plan. Or at least so I could move out of my crummy apartment and into something that was bigger than a shoebox. But canceling a wedding and moving from one state to another wasn’t cheap, and since everything was in my ex’s name since we’d moved for her job, my bank account was empty and I was desperate for any type of work to feed it and myself. Thankfully, George saw something in me; otherwise, I’d still be combing the want-ads and filling out applications.
“I think that’s everything,” Mina said once she gave the room a critical eye.
I could see why George hired her as his assistant manager. She was efficient and thorough and had the patience of a saint. He was lucky to have her, and I hoped he realized that. Then she glanced at her watch. “We still have a while before we’re due to open, and the band should be here any minute to get set up.”
Right on cue, we heard the creak of the back-door opening followed by deep voices getting closer. Mina left me behind the bar to greet the band, and I made sure we had rags to wipe down the counter, triple-checked the glasses and beverages, and did anything else I could find to keep myself busy. She didn’t need my help with the band, and I felt weird just standing there doing nothing. I wasn’t paid to lean on the counter, even if we weren’t open yet and I could use the time to relax. Besides, relaxing gave me time to think about the disaster that’d become my life, and there was plenty of time to do that when I was home alone.
I’d just given the bar another wipe-down it didn’t need when I heard the cacophony of instruments being tuned and checked. I winced at the sound but tried not to judge. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t their actual set, only a quick sound check before getting started, and if George allowed them to play, they must’ve been good. Besides, how could hitting a few keys or strumming a few strings be enticing to the ear when you weren’t trying to play a melody? And what the hell did I really know about jazz anyway? Not much aside from the bands Clancy’s usually had, and even their sound checks were just them playing a song. Each one was different, and I needed to keep that in mind.
“Foster, I think the counter is as clean as it’s going to get,” Mina said beside me, and I could hear the smirk in her voice before I even looked in her direction.
“Just wanting to make sure everything is ready,” I said before tucking the towel in the waistband of my pants. I had to raise my voice to be heard over the band, but Mina was leaning close enough to hear me just fine.