With the rotten beer in hand, I weave past the tables and head straight for the bar. Ollie’s two pride and joys, his brewery machine and his signed baseball by Joe DiMaggio are both shoved into the corner carelessly like forgotten relics. I’m honestly surprised either is still here. I’m sure they have to be worth a pretty penny. Everything else that’s fit that criteria has up and disappeared from this place.
I go over to the end, careful to stop before I cross the barrier. Sean gets his dick in a knot if anyone goes behind the bar without his express permission while he’s back there. That’s made nights bartending here interesting to say the least.
He’s talking to a few of his prick posse, but I know he sees me, even though he ignores me completely. He’s average looking, not hard on the eyes with his ashy brown hair and brown eyes, but he’d be a hell of a lot more attractive if he weren’t such a bastard.
I do my best to put a polite smile on my face. He’s easier to deal with this way. If I ever so much as sigh or approach him with anything less than a smile, he’ll chew me up and spit me out like tobacco on a baseball field. “Hey, Sean?” I call in the friendliest tone I can manage.
He continues to talk for several seconds before deigning to turn his head to look at me. “Yeah?”
I wiggle the beer bottle in my hand. “Customer sent it back. Can I have a fresh one, please?”
Immediately, the good-natured look that was on his face from talking to his buddies drops off, and he comes stalking over. “What the fuck’s wrong with it?”
I hold it up eye-level with him so he can see the shit settled at the bottom. “I think you might’ve accidentally served some of the expired stuff that you forgot to toss out.” We both know he didn’t forget, and it sure as shit wasn’t an accident, but I have to play nice. One more night, Delta. Just one more damn night.
Unfortunately, my wording doesn’t appease him enough, because his expression grows thunderous. He takes another step forward like he wants to intimidate me. My heartbeat kicks up a notch, but I’m used to Sean’s scare tactics. He’s nothing but a fucking bully, and I learned a long time ago not to cower to his bullshit. He might get Vicky to cower, but not me. I’ll play nice and I’ll take a lot of his shit, but I’m not going to tuck tail and run. I won’t give him the satisfaction of that.
“There’s nothing wrong with that fucking beer. Now take it back to them. They can drink the shit we serve, or they can get the fuck out.”
Prime example of why the place is closing down.
I clench my teeth, my hand tightening around the bottle as I try to suppress my anger. “Sean,” I say, trying to keep my voice level and quiet enough not to disrupt the customers. “I can’t take this back to them. It’s rotten. Nobody wants to drink that. You wouldn’t drink this, so we can’t expect them to. Can you please just give me a new beer?”
For once, just fucking work with me and don’t be a dick.
He just stares at me dispassionately. “No.”
I stare at him, flabbergasted. I don’t understand this guy. At all. I’ve been dealing with this bullshit of his for years, being as accommodating as fucking possible. Unlike him, I’m loyal to Ollie’s place. I’ve always just taken whatever he dished out, pasted on fucking smiles, and dealt with him day after day for shit pay and barely-there tips. And still, after all of that effort on my part, he can’t just throw me a fucking bone on my last day of work?
I let the fake smile drop right off my face. It feels like drawing a line in the sand.
“Fine. I’ll get it for them myself. You don’t have to do a thing,” I tell him in a rare form of defiance. “I’m supposed to be bartending anyway instead of serving tables and cleaning the bathrooms.”
I step to the side so I can get around him, but Sean moves in my way to block me. He crosses his arms and looks down his nose at me. “You think you’re hot shit because this is your last fucking night working here?”
Anger makes my whole body tingle, and rage floods in my veins. All of the shit I’ve swept under my proverbial rug is suddenly being ripped right out from under me. I want to wreck this bastard. I want to grab his head and knock his skull into the lacquered wood until he’s bleeding all over the bartop’s scoreboard. I am so done with his shitty attitude.
It takes a lot of willpower to shove away those wicked thoughts, but I do. I’ve had plenty of practice.
Because he’s right. This is my last night. Which means I only have to put up with this for a few more hours. It’s already eleven PM, so I just need to make it until two, grab my last paycheck—which my utility bill is counting on—and then say fuck off to Sean for good.
I set the beer down on the bar with a sigh. I’m just asking for a fucking new beer. Why does everything always have to be a fight? I’m so sick and tired of this shit. “Look, the customer sent it back; what do you want me to do, Sean?”
“I want you to do your fucking job, Delta,” he growls.
“I’m a bartender.” Not to mention a glorified waitress and janitor, I think bitterly. “My job is to serve people drinkable drinks. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“Not today, it’s not. Today I need you to wait tables, and that means you grab the drinks I prepare and then sashay your slutty ass over to the customers to serve them. That’s all you do. Fucking simple. But you can’t handle it, I guess. So why don’t you just get your shit and go?”
I rear back. “Excuse me?”
“You fucking heard me. It’s not like you’re important, Delta. Anyone can do your job, and I got Vicky and Sara. They at least had the fucking decency to keep working until we closed.”
That’s what has a fire poker up his narrow ass. He’s pissed that I quit on him before his business quit on me.
“You’re closing,” I say through gritted teeth. “Everyone has to find a new job.”
“I guess I shouldn’t have expected anything less,” he goes on, like he didn’t even hear me. “You always were a little orphan bitch.”
My eyes go hazy with fury. But instead of my vision turning red like some people claim, mine goes pitch-black when my rage takes over. There’s something inside of me that’s not quite right. There always has been. I usually lock it up nice and tight, but I’m really tempted to let that side of me loose right now.
I hate that he knows exactly where to hit to cause the maximum amount of damage. Those violent urges? Yeah, I don’t know how much longer I can suppress them. I need to get the fuck out of here before I legit attack this dude.
“You know what? Fine,” I say, ripping the order notepad out of my pocket and slamming it on the bar next to the spoiled beer. “Give me my last paycheck, and I’ll be out of your hair.”
He snorts. “Paychecks are for working, and all you’re doing is bitching. Don’t think you’ve earned it.”
My mouth drops open as heat floods over my skin in a furious flush. “You can’t do that.”
He leans in, just to get in my face. “Yeah, I can.”
My hands curl into fists. The festering rage starts to come up my throat and burn the back of my tongue, falling out in venomous words. “I may be an orphan, Sean, but I’m pretty sure you’re a fucking failed abortion.”