“Do you prefer a certain type of gin?”
She shook her head and I bent down to check out the liquor offering behind the bar. They had a few good brands of dry gin, but I preferred the cucumber and rose flavor that Hendrick’s offered. I set out three cocktail glasses and got to work on the dirty martinis. Ice, gin, brine from cocktail olives, and extra dry vermouth were added to the shaker before I tossed it all together and strained the mixture into the first two cocktail glasses. I rinsed the shaker and reached for lemons, but stopped short when I couldn’t find any gimme syrup. I decided I’d have to bring in supplies for my next shift if I lasted through the night.
Instead of bothering Captain America and Ken doll, I found simple syrup and hoped it would do. I didn’t have time to ask where every single ingredient was if I wanted to actually help the other bartenders work through the crowd.
I directed the woman to pay with the other bartender and focused my attention on the next customer. Though he probably hated it, one of the bartenders, Brian, and I worked out a system within five minutes. I took orders, and filled them, and he cashed out the customers or transferred their drinks to the tab at their table.
I’d finished making two White Russians, a Sea Breeze, a screwdriver, two more dirty martinis, and a slew of gin and tonics before Zoe joined me behind the bar and gripped my arm. I set down my shaker and turned my attention to her.
“I get it. Barbie knows her shit,” she said, pulling me away from my self-assigned station. “Brian keep up the bar. Lily will be back in a few minutes.”
I smiled and let her pull me away. If I was coming back, that meant I’d landed the job.
I followed Zoe through the restaurant, taking in the scenery as we went. Provisions continued to surprise me. The floor plan was spectacular, but the open courtyard in the center of the restaurant took my breath away. I hadn’t seen anything like it before. Customers were crowded around tables, eating under a grove of trees. Twinkle lights hung from the branches, basking them all in gentle light.
We circled around the perimeter of the courtyard and then Zoe led me into a back hallway toward a door that read “Employees only.”
We stepped through the door and the restaurant’s quiet music was replaced with silence. Our shoes echoed through the hall and I reached out to stop her so I could plead my case.
“Honestly, you don’t have to worry about my intentions with this job.” She turned to face me. “I’m here because I need a job in New York. I’d prefer bartending to serving, but I’m flexible. I have a culinary degree and I’ve completed bartending school. I’ve worked just about every server job imaginable, so if there’s anyone qualified to work here, it’s me.”
She angled her head and studied me.
“Sounds like you could be doing something a little more impressive than waiting tables.”
I shrugged. She wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already considered myself.
“I want to work in the restaurant industry, but until I find my niche, I just need to get my bills paid.”
“What about managing?”
I grimaced. “No offense, but it’s not my cup of tea.”
She laughed. “Fair enough. Usually I have to get Dean to sign off on all new hires, but he’s out of town and I need you at the bar tonight.”
My back straightened at the mention of his name. He was the whole reason I’d applied at Provisions in the first place.
“My best friend is actually dating Dean’s friend, Julian. That’s how I knew you were hiring.”
Zoe nodded. “Is that so? So you’ve met Dean before?”
I swallowed. Would it be a deal breaker if I hadn’t?
“No, but I’ve been told we’ll get along just fine.”
My throat tightened over the lie. When my best friend Josephine had first told me about Dean and his restaurants, her exact words were something like “you and Dean will get along like oil and water”, but what did it matter? He would be my boss’s boss’s boss. We didn’t really have to get along.
I followed Zoe through the back offices until we pushed into what looked like an employee locker room. A row of stalls lined one wall, with sinks directly across from them. Black lockers lay half unused along the right-hand side, with clothes and backpacks spilling out of them.
“Here, this should fit,” Zoe said, pulling out a dark purple garment from a Tupperware bin above the lockers.
I unrolled the piece of fabric and then glanced up at her over the top of it.
“You have got to be kidding me. Is this actually considered clothing?”
She smirked.
“Consider it a ‘Welcome to Provisions’ gift courtesy of Dean Harper.”
Chapter Three
Dean