Coffee and Cigarrettes

chapter four

NO ONE IS READING THIS OMG

I HATE EVERYTHING

HAAHHA

FUCK THIS UGHHH

WHAT IS MY LIFE

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chapter four

I ask around at a few little simple grocery stores about work and all of them say they have plenty of employees. I'm beginning to wonder if my clothes and messy hair and ugly face are turning them off. Oh well.

A building with peeling blue paint on its wooden siding stands near the docks, with a large sign that reads 'Help Wanted' posted in its dusty window. My eyes widen and I jog up to it. Bells jingle when I open the door and an old man squints from behind a rickety card table.

"Well hello," he croaks before clearing his throat, "Peter, you've got a customer!"

A boy about my age, maybe a few years older, dashes out from behind a mystic curtain, dressed all in black with a top hat on. Surprised by his getup, I open my eyes wide and laugh.

"I- I'm sorry," I smile, "I'm not a customer. I'm just looking for work and I, uh, noticed your sign outside."

The boy groans and tosses the top hat to the side, "False alarm."

"What are you looking to do?" the older man inquires.

"Anything, really."

The two are quiet for a moment, the boy leaning against a margarita bar.

"Could you be a, uh, a bartender?" the boy says finally.

I pause before answering. Serving alcohol? At 18, in an unfamiliar town?

"Yeah, I could," I shrug.

"Alright, well, the bar opens up at 6:30 every night except Saturdays, which you better be here by 5. We get loads of tourists here every day, and most of them are coming to see a hottie serve them a Bud Light. That's you. A few come in for the psychic and my magic tricks but not many. We need you; our last bartender left."

I nod, "Alright. I won't ask why she left. Probably best not to know." I glance around the room. There are several small tables and booths along the wall with duct tape holding together patchable holes. The curtain the boy came through is made of beads and middle-eastern fabric, which conceals a separate room. The bar that I'll be working at is long and takes up the right side of the floor and has about 13 stools, and the wall is stacked high with drink mix bottles. A doorway leads from the bar into a side room where they must keep all their dirty dishes and such things. A staircase at the northwest corner of the room winds upward, with a chain on the railing and a sign hanging off it, reading 'Employees Only, Keep Out'. I shrug and smile at the boy, "Well, I'm Alice."

He holds out his hand, "Alright, princess. I'm Ben, to you. To everyone else, I'm the Mysterious Man of Mystery." He winks.

"Wow," I raise an eyebrow and flash him a curtsy, "I'm honored."

He grins widely, and then the old man clears his throat, "You can call me Joe."

I nod, "Pleased to meet you. Uh, so you said you have a psychic?"

"Oh, yeah," Ben rolls his eyes, "That's my sister. She thinks she has an otherworldly mind, so we set her up here to earn some extra cash."

"Fair enough." Not sure what else to say, I slip behind the bar and examen my workplace.

"Heyheyhey, hold on, princess," Ben rushes, "You can come back tonight for that. I have to clean up a tad and then you can come back and have your first trial run with it." He winks again.

"Uh, okay." My face twists into a smirk.

"Be back here at 6. We'll be waiting." Ben smiles me and I nod to him, opening the front door.

"See you then," I wave, about to close the door.

"Oh, and, uh, Alice?" he calls.

"Yeah?"

"Wear something hot."

I close the door, pausing as it shuts.

Something hot?

Really?

My only hope is that this job won't involve being a stripper.

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