Love At First Sit

Baggage

Wednesday nights tended to bring an older crowd. The regulars were usually around by six or seven P.M. The lights went out and the music started. 212°F Tavern had a DJ that night, a famous self-mixer who had an ear for good mashups.

Wish served a lot of people that he'd never seen before, and a lot of times would never see again. That was just how bartending went. He entertained the crowd, built rapport with the customers, and always worked hard.

He was good with faces. When someone came to the bar and sat there for more than five minutes, he could usually recognize them if he saw them again. He might not know or remember their names, but just that he'd seen them before.

Wish had wiped down the bar after a man had just left. He paid the bill and left him a generous 500 pesos for a tip.

He finished wiping down the bar just as someone pulled out a stool. Wish looked up to gauge his next customer.

A man no older than fifty or fifty-five sat down. He was tall and muscular, with light brown hair that shifted around like a haystack in a breeze. He had a friendly smile on his face. Wish's favorite kind of customer.

"What can I get for you?" Wish asked him.

"Something strong." His voice was a thick cowboy southern accent.

Whenever someone asked for "something strong", Wish had a few go-to drinks that he offered, like a Martini, Bacardi, or something with whiskey. They usually fit the bill.

Wish procured the drink and set it on the bar for him. The man took it without a word and took a generous drink.

"Rough day?" Wish asked.

"Something like that," he mumbled.

"Work?" was his next question.

The man shook his head.

Wish shortly ventured over to another customer and got him another beer before returning to the foreigner. He looked down at his drink. Nearly empty. Damn, that was fast.

"Another?"

The patron slid the glass across the bar and nodded. "Keep 'em coming," he grumbled.

Wish made another Gin Martini with vermouth, stirred in the ice, and slid the glass back to his guest.

"So." Wish leaned back against the counter behind him. "Relationship troubles, then?"

He scrunched his face up. "Not really."

"Family?" He was getting way nosy.

"Actually, I was looking for someone."

"Hmmm, what's the name? I'm not good with names, but I can ask my friends here. Or do you have a picture mayb—"

"Wish! There you are, man!" Anthony, his co-worker who'd been gone for weeks, interrupted him.

"Tonyo!" Wish greeted him. "Excuse me," he said to the older man, and walked up to his friend. They grabbed arms and tapped each other's backs. "It's good to see you, man. How's The Drip? You feel better now?"

"The Drip is all gone. I'm totally fit to work." Anthony automatically filled up beer for a patron from the tap.

A regular sat at the usual spot and ordered Blue Shark. Anthony grinned as he prepared the mix and combined vodka and rum in a cocktail shaker with cracked ice, adding several dashes of blue curacaos. He tossed a shaker in the air and caught it behind his back, bringing it to the side to continue to shake the mixture. With easy movements, he poured the cocktail into a glass and cast a wink over to the lady, who tipped him lavishly.