Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Greg looks at me. “Not a bad guess, huh?” He smiles. “Hell, Larry always knew how to pick ‘em.”
I frown and he quickly makes his face expressionless.
“So basically, the left-hand side of the bar is table service. You’ll find some people on the right-hand side want it, too. You can serve them if you want to, but your priority is the tables on the left.”
He pauses his explanation for a second and hands me a notepad and pen before going on.
“They go in the pocket of your apron. Write down the orders, bring the tickets to the bar, and take the drinks to the tables. Think you can manage that?”
“I think so,” I reply sarcastically.
Greg ignores my sarcasm, and nods to my top.
“Open the top two buttons,” he says.
It is already so tight and small. I frown.
He shrugs. “Totally up to you, but if you want to make decent tips, you’ll do it.”
I almost don’t, but I need money fast and so reluctantly, I open the top two buttons and show off even more cleavage.
He grins. “Perfect. Let’s go.” He turns and heads back towards the bar. He points to a door on his left. “That’s the staff toilet. Unless you have a weird fetish for bodily fluids, never ever use the customer toilets.”
“Got it,” I say, instantly deciding I would rather pee in my panties than go into the customer toilets.
Greg leads me out into the bar and opens the hatch for me to leave through.
Before I can even respond he turns away and starts serving customers.
I stand at that spot, unsure of what to do, but I don’t have long to dilly around wondering. A man spots me and beckons me over to his table. It’s on the left side of the room, so I quickly make my way over, a massive smile on my face.
6
AMELIA
“Good evening gentlemen. What can I get for you?” I ask, my notebook and pen out and ready.
The men at the table laugh.
My smile goes so wide my face is in danger of cracking.
“You’re new here, aren’t you?” one of them asks.
“First night,” I admit.
“I can tell. You haven’t gotten the standard Flamingo exasperated greeting of ‘what’d want next’ down yet.”
“Ok, what’d want next?”
Another laughs. “She’ll do.”
“Yeah, she’ll do all right. Here’s a nice simple order to get you started, cream pie. “Five pints of pale ale; three rum and cokes, no ice, and eight shots of tequila.”
I write the order down quickly and flash them another big grin. “Coming right up.”
I go back towards the bar and stand waiting for one of the bartenders to spot me. Greg spots me and rolls his eyes, pointing to the end of the bar. The opposite end to where the entrance hatch is.
“You work here, Amelia,” Greg explains dryly. “You don’t have to wait in the line. When you have an order, come straight up here, ok?”
I nod and hand him my ticket. He turns away and another table yells, “Hello, sweet cheeks.”
“That’ll be you,” Greg calls over his shoulder.
“Right.” I plaster another smile on my face and head towards them. When I come back with their order, there’s a large tray waiting for me with all of the drinks for my last order.
“I have to take all of these at once?” I ask the female bartender who holds her hand out for my new ticket.
She nods. “Yeah. And if you drop them, Larry takes the money out of your fucking wages, so watch your step.”
Wonderful. I pick the tray up cautiously. It weighs an absolute ton, and my hands are shaking with nerves. Beer starts to slop over the top of the pint glasses, and I feel tears starting to form in my eyes. This is not fair. I’ve not even been given a chance to practice. Just thrown into the deep end without a float. I put the tray back down on the counter and blink hard.
The woman behind the bar comes back, obviously taking pity on me. “Like this,” she says.
Then she crouches slightly and pulls the tray to the edge of the bar. She holds her palm out and slides the tray onto it. “Do it with both hands to start with it if you need to.”
I nod. That does look easier than my way.
She quickly tops up the spilled beers and nods for me to go.
I take a deep breath and do it the way she showed me. The tray sits neatly on my palms. Yup, I can do this. I take my other palm off. My arm shakes from the weight, but the drinks hold steady, and nothing spills. I take a deep breath and with my spine straight I make it to the table before I realize I have no idea how to get the tray back off my hand.