Chapter 39

Come the next morning, I stared at my roommate, Brian Remington, my eyes wide with desperation. "Please let go of my toaster!" I begged.

Brian wore a mischievous grin, my beloved toaster in his hand, a look of triumph on his face. "Oh come on, it's not like I'm never going to give it back," he said, his voice filled with laughter, seemingly taking great pleasure in my distress.

"I need it for breakfast," I pleaded, my stomach growling with hunger. "I can't start my day without an Eggo, you know that," I protested.

Giving another chuckle, he took a bite of his own Eggo, the crispy waffle dripping with syrup. "You're such a weirdo," he said, his voice laced with amusement. "You and your Eggo obsession."

I gritted my teeth and tried again. "Please, just give it back. I'll do anything."

Brian raised an eyebrow. "Anything?" he repeated, his voice filled with intrigue.

I nodded eagerly, my desperation getting the better of me. "Yes, anything. Just give me back my toaster."

Brian grinned. "Alright then, you have to sing me a song."

I hesitated for a moment, but my hunger overpowered my pride. I took a deep breath and launched into a rendition of "Happy" by Pharrell Williams, my voice wavering and off-key.

Brian laughed and clapped along, clearly enjoying my embarrassment. But, as I finished the last note, he handed me my toaster with a smile. "You're a weirdo, but you're an adorable weirdo," he said, patting me on the back.

~~

My cell was six rings in when I was finally able to dig it out from underneath the cushion of the couch. “Damn Brian and his tricks!” I groused silently as I hit the take call button.
Tannin’s bright and cheery voice greeted me. “Good morning, Marlowe.”

“Is it? I can’t tell!” I muttered grumpily. First, Brian and his shenanigans, and now the too chirpy voice of Tannin torturing my ears. Just let me die already!

“Hangover?” her chirpy voice questioned.

Head pounding, I dropped it in my free hand, resting my forehead against my fingers. Oh my God, please! I thought sarcastically. Hangover was a fucking mild description to what I was feeling. More like death had come to visit, then changed his mind about taking me with him.

“Yeah,” I groaned, my tongue struggling around the word.

“Hair of the dog?” she quizzed.

My stomach rolled at just the thought. “Oh, hell no!” I breathed, then with a grunt, I muttered, “Guess it’s what I deserve after getting plastered the way I did yesterday.”

“Umm, what was up with—” There was a slight pause, then she gasped, “Oh, good grief. I can be a dumb fuck sometimes. Yesterday was the anniversary, wasn’t it?”

I sighed. “Yeah. Sometimes, it seems like only yesterday.”

“Damn, I’m sorry, Mar! How are you doing today?” she asked, her voice losing its chirpiness, and taking on a note of sympathy.

On the night I had returned to work at Jess’s Place, I’d been greeted by the familiar sight of a dimly lit room, the haze of cigarette smoke and the sound of laughter and music filling the air. I’d been eager to get back to work, not having realized how much I had missed the atmosphere, and Jess, expertly mixing drinks and chatting with the regulars, glanced up as I entered.

"Hey, you," he called out as I approached. Then, waving toward a small-framed blonde tending bar with him, he’d murmured, “This is Tannin, and she's my new partner, so whatever she says, goes."

"Nice to meet you," she said, extending a hand. "I've heard a lot about you from Jess."

“Oh, Lord,” I had laughed.

Tannin and I had hit it off immediately, bonding over our shared love of good whisky and different musical bands. As that first night had worn on, I’d found myself drawn to Tannin's infectious energy and her obvious passion for the bar, and I could tell she was going to be a game-changer for it. At the time, I’d had no idea of how much of a game-changer she would become. Not only the bar, but for myself as well.

Though I had never been anything other than a bartender at Jess’s when I had worked there previously, he had always asked my thoughts and opinions about changes he was considering, and I had found Tannin doing the same. When she had first brought up her vision for the place, asking, “What do you think about turning this bar into something like the Coyote Ugly Saloon?” I had been honored that she had valued my opinion enough to ask.

After hearing her thoughts, I’d murmured, “Give me some time to think about it.” I’d wanted to give her a good informative response, not a spur of the moment reply. But my thoughts had already run in the direction of, hell yes!

It hadn’t taken me long after reading the story of the real Coyote Ugly to make my decision, and I had quickly found myself as Manager and interviewing to fill the newly opened positions of bartenders\dancers.
Within less than a year, Jess’s Place had become the most popular bar in town.

Coming out of my thoughts, I heard Tannin ask, “You good to work tonight? We got a private party booking, and we could sure use your help.”

Dumping two Motrins out of the bottle into my hand, I picked up my cup of coffee, and after swallowing the pain relievers, I replied, “I’ll be there.”