“Isn’t it root beer and vanilla ice cream?”
“Yup, but he likes his topped with whipped cream and a cherry.”
I glance over my shoulder to the end of the bar, where Aaron is once again chatting up the two older women, and then back at Louis. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Think you can handle it?”
“It shouldn’t be a problem.” Ice cream and soda should not be something I can mess up.
“Then go for it. And put in an order for the special, but he likes Caesar salad instead of fries, and one onion ring on his burger. And you don’t need to bring him the ketchup and mustard; he takes barbecue sauce instead.”
I repeat the order back to him to make sure I got everything, then key it into the system and get to work making the root beer float. I fill a float glass two-thirds of the way with root beer before I disappear into the kitchen.
There’s a teenage boy-man working on salads, listening to music. It sounds more like someone is beating the instruments in a tuneless, angry battle and stabbing the singer with pins, but to each his own. He bobs his head to the maniacal beat. When it looks like he’s about to break into a drum solo, I interrupt.
“Hi.”
He nearly drops the metal bowl full of romaine lettuce, dressing, and imitation bacon bits. He spins around, eyes wide. They skim over me, stopping at my feet for a second before rising back to my face. His cheeks explode with color. “Hi. Uh, who are you?”
“I’m Teagan. I just started working the bar today. Actually, I’m in the middle of my interview. And now I’m supposed to make a root beer float for Aaron Saunders. Do you know him?”
He nods twice. “Sure do.”
“Is he particular about his root beer float?”
“He sure is.”
“Wanna help a girl out so my interview goes well?” I tip my head to the side and smile.
“Yeah. For sure. I’m more than happy to help. I’m Tanner Freelton.” He wipes his hand on his white shirt and holds it out.
I take it, noting his palms are damp, probably because it’s hot back here. “We have the same initials. Teagan Firestone.”
“Firestone? Are you related to Van? Dillion Stitch’s boyfriend?”
“He’s her fiancé. They got engaged a while back.” I wonder how long it’s going to take for me to get used to the way everyone knows everyone else around here. “And I’m Van’s sister.”
“Right. Yeah. I knew that. That’s super cool. I mean, it’s cool that you’re Van’s sister. And that they’re engaged or whatever. My older sister is friends with Dillion. Allie. Anyway, let me help you with the root beer float.”
“Great. Thanks.”
I pass him the glass, and he pours some of the root beer into the sink. “It’s gonna foam a lot, so you don’t want it to get too messy. It’s kind of a science. And I don’t use the vanilla ice cream.”
“You don’t?”
“Nope. I use the caramel-ribbon swirl. Always two scoops.” He steps inside the walk-in freezer and returns with a giant container of ice cream. Then he shows me how big the scoops should be and allows me to carefully drop the first one in, then instructs me to set the second one on top, pushing the foam closer to the top of the glass, but it never overflows.
“Nice work,” he says. “Now for the whipped cream and the cherry.”
I top it with a generous swirl of whipped cream, add a straw, and place a single cherry in the center.
I thank him and return to the bar, placing the float in front of Aaron. He frowns at it. “Did you make this?”
I shake my head.
He narrows his eyes at me.
“I put the order in.”
His eyes are still locked on mine as he lowers his lips to the straw and takes a deep haul. His brow furrows, and he makes a face that looks like he’s in pain. “Ahhh,” he groans and presses his fingers against his temples. It takes me a moment to realize he’s given himself brain freeze.
“How is it?”
“It’s fine,” he grits through clenched teeth, still holding his head.
“Great.” I give him one of my bright smiles and move on to the next customer.
A few minutes later I bring the barbecue sauce and silverware over and set them on the bar in front of Aaron, who has managed to polish off his float.
“So it was just fine, then?”
“I was thirsty.”
“Do you want another one?”
He purses his lips and looks at the empty glass and then at me. “Yeah,” he says on a sigh.
I want to know what it is about me that he finds so irritating. I try to take the glass, but he covers my hand with his. I can’t tell if it’s the temperature of the glass or the unexpected contact, but it sends a shiver down my spine.
“I’m not finished with it yet. Can I get a spoon for the rest of the ice cream? One of those ones they use for sundaes.”
“Sure.”
I grab him a spoon, then get to work making another root beer float. This time I don’t need Tanner’s help.
And this time, when I set it in front of Aaron, he gives me a small, reluctant smile and mutters a barely audible thank-you.
At the end of the night, I help Louis clean the bar—it is not an enjoyable part of the job—and put all the chairs up on the tables.
“So?” I grab my purse from under the bar once everything is done. “What’s the verdict?”
“Huh?” Louis asks as he counts out the dollar bills that filled the tip jar.
“Did I pass the test? Do I get the job?” I sure hope so, since I’ve spent the last nine hours on my feet, serving a lot of stinky beer to a lot of people. And I need to have a discussion with Louis about the wine selection. I had a sip of the red, out of curiosity. I would rather drink an entire bottle of vinegar than try to consume a glass of that stuff.
“Oh. Yeah. Absolutely. You passed with flying colors. You okay with working Thursdays? It’s just as busy as it was tonight. I have a couple of people for the weekends, but I could use another set of hands on payday, and customers love you, so yeah, if you’re available, you’re hired.”
“I’m totally available.”
“Fantastic. I’ll send you home with some paperwork. You get standard server wage plus tips. And did I hear right, you’re Van Firestone’s sister?”
“I am.”
He regards me thoughtfully for a moment. “You mind me asking you a personal question?”
I shrug. “Sure.”
“You, uh, don’t really look like you need a job tending bar.”
“That’s more of an observation, not a question,” I point out.
“Hmm. You’re right. Do you need the job?”
I smile. “I want the job.” It’s the easiest and most truthful answer. I want to figure out who I am and what I like, and the best way to do that is to try a bunch of new things.
“Fair enough.” He pushes a stack of bills toward me. “That’s your share for tonight. See you next Thursday.”
“See you next Thursday.” I head for the door. “And Louis.”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for taking a chance on me.”
CHAPTER 5
NEW BEGINNINGS