Let Me Love You

WREN *CRASH* “Ughhhhhhh” I can’t believe that this is happening. This shift has only just begun and I’ve already spilled an entire tray of shots on myself. As I sweep up the glass on the floor, I make a mental note to bring a spare change of clothes to keep in my work locker. This job was only meant to be temporary, something to help me save up enough money to pay for school so I could finish my degree, but four years later, I’m still here, and I still don’t have enough for one semester saved. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one to look down on the service industry, obviously. Though at twenty-four, I would have hoped I’d be somewhere other than here. I started working at the Tap Room when I was the ripe age of twenty and my financial aid fell through. I was half way through my college degree, and for some reason, the U.S. government decided that my parents make “too much money”. I was gobsmacked when I got the email. My parents are not poor, but they are definitely it rich by any means, so the fact that I could be cut off just like that left me perplexed. I had two years left until I would be a registered dental hygienist, and then wham, I was slammed into a complete stop. Do not pass go, lose a turn and all the other bull s**t sayings… so here I am, serving beer, and apparently spilling fireball shots. I hate this. “Hey, are you all good over here?” I look over my shoulder so see my best friend and fellow barmaid Layla. A small smirk on her lips that’s threatening to spill into laughter. “Just peachy…” I mumble under gritted teeth. Layla walks closer to me and let’s out a small chuckle as she grabs the broom from my hands. “ You smell like a fall candle, here let me finish sweeping this up. You can have the pleasure of telling Ryan he has to pour another ten shots!” I scrunch my eyebrows together and give her a look that only a mother reserves for there misbehaved child. “Ugh, if you weren’t my best friend, I would call you a b***h for that.” Layla flips her long brown hair over her shoulder, “Well then it’s a good thing I am your best friend, and that you love me.” I roll my eyes and I pick up my now empty tray and head back for the bar. Layla Waters really is my best friend. Though sometimes I wonder why. She has this harshness to her, and unbridled need to be as honest as possible, almost to a fault. The girl has no filter, but then again she doesn’t need one. She is gorgeous, long brown hair, olive skin that makes her look sun kissed, even in the coldest of Michigan winters. Full lips, large green eyes, model thin and tall. She can pretty much get away with anything she wants looking like that. We are pretty much polar opposites. I stand at a whopping five foot two inches, medium length blonde hair, blue eyes, a round face that makes me look like I’m twelve. Though the one thing I have on her is curves, I am hourglass shaped compared to her. My pale skin pretty much glows at night, even in the middle of July. “Hey Ry, I’m going to need you to pour me up ten shots of fire ball please.” I look at him with my large doe eyes, hoping that I can sweet talk him into submission without having him give me a hard time. I’m almost positive he saw me lose my balance earlier, so the torment to come is almost inevitable. “Didn’t I just fill that order for you Wren” I can see the smirk on his lips even though he never looks up from whatever drink he’s pouring. “I don’t know what you’re talking about Ry, that must have been Layla.” I say with a hint of confusion in my tone. I can see him roll his eyes and he turns to me with a smile and an arched eyebrow. “Oh I’m sorry, I must be mistaken.” The sarcasm drops from his mouth and I can’t help but giggle. “That must be the case, because I DEFINITELY did not spill every last one over by table six.” He leans over to me and sniffs in my direction, “Jesus Christ Wren, you smell like a pack of Big Red.” Ryan grabs the tray from my hands and begins to line it with shot glasses. He reaches for the fireball bottle and pours me a new set of shots. With the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly, he sets the newly replenished tray in front of me, not wasting the opportunity to tell me to “be careful this time” in a sing song tone. I roll my eyes so hard that I wonder if they might pop out of my head and roll across the bar. Ryan let’s out a chuckle and I grab the tray as I turn back toward the crowded bar room. I make my way, ever so carefully, to the intended customers and with a smile I start to hand out the shots. A bunch of giggling college students, as I turn to go check the rest of the tables in my section, I can hear lots of cheers and hollers from behind me. It’s only 10 at night, and I still have four hours until my shift is over. I work at a steady pace as the peak hours come to a head. I’m called over to a table for another round. This particular table happens to be all men, and they have been hounding me all night. I’m not sure what it is about men and alcohol that makes them turn into rowdy, horny teenagers, but this group takes the cake for sure. I’ve done my best to politely ignore their flirtatious advances every time I make my rounds, but now that the alcohol has seemed to drown everyone of their last brain cells, they are just relentless. “Hey hot stuff, what’s it going to take to have you in my bed tonight.” One calls out, slurring his words. A roar of laughter comes from the peanut gallery around him. I c**k an eyebrow at him wondering how long it took him to come up with at winner of a pickup line. “Never gonna happen buddy.” I turn to walk away, no longer feeling the need to put in their drink order, by that alone, I know it’s time to cut them off. I take not more than one step in the opposite direction when I feel the sting of a hand across my ass, landing with a deafening SMACK. “Really” say to myself, “did that actually just happen.” I’m fuming now, as I turn on my heals, I can feel my cheeks burning red as a give him my most hateful scowl. “You have some nerve.” I seeth through gritted teeth. “I can not believe the audacity that you have, what gives you the sense of entitlement that makes YOU think it’s okay to touch me.” My voice is raised and within a minute I can feel Ryan’s presence behind me. He’s been like a big brother to me these past four years, and he does not take lightly to customers getting “handsy.” “I’ve got this handled Wren, why don’t you go take over the bar for me for a few.” Knowing that if I don’t leave the scene right now, I might end up smacking the s**t out of this i***t, I nod my head and leave him to it. I try not to look in that direction as I work the bar, and soon Ryan is back next to me. I glance over at the now empty table with a sigh of relief and shoot a quick “thank you” to Ryan. He sends a soft smile my way and informs me that they will not be back, ever. THANK GOD. The rest night drags on and thankfully, there are no more mishaps. Ryan yells out for last call, the lights are turned on and soon the drunken crowd has all but funneled out of the front door. Layla and I begin to pick up the bar, we wipe down tables, stack chairs, and in no time, we have the whole place swept and mopped. It now just after three in the morning and the exhaustion has started to settle in. I grab my purse from my locker and the three of us head for the door with Ryan locking it behind us. I let out a huge sigh as I pull out my keys, getting ready to head to my junker of a car. Ryan looks at me with a hint of sadness in his eye, “Don’t let ass hats like that get to you Wren.” “I’m good Ry, just another day of living the dream.” Sarcasm evident in my tone. “You know it baby!” He says with a dry laugh. Ryan makes sure that Layla and I get to our cars safely before he hops into his truck, and then I make the journey back to my humble abode. I park on the street and look around before making my ascent up to my fourth floor walk up. It’s a small studio, just enough space for me and Larry, my yellow tabby cat. I unlock the door, step inside and quickly latch the deadbolt. It’s not that my neighborhood is unsafe, but being a petite young woman, living alone, one can never be too safe. I set my keys on a small table next to the door and hang up my purse. Larry greets me, running between my legs and it takes everything I have not to trip on him as I make my way toward the fridge. I may feel like an extra off the set of the walking dead, and smell like a red hot, but I am also starving, so that is what is taking precedence at the moment. Looking inside and it’s pretty much empty. Making ANOTHER mental note to go grocery shopping sometime in the near future, I grab the box of generic store brand cereal off the top, not forgetting to put a scoop of cat food in Larrys bowl as I make my way to my bed. I pick at the contents of the box staring at my ceiling as I do so. Soon I am fighting to to keep my eyes open as I look at my phone. It’s now four in the morning and though I am in desperate need of that shower, it can wait until later. I kick off my tennis shoes, strip out of my jeans and curl up under my white duvet. I feel a small dip in my bed as Larry assumes his nightly position at my feet. It’s the last thing that my consciousness interprets and soon, exhaustion overwhelms me. I am out like a light. No dreams, just dark consuming sleep. Maybe tomorrow will be better, but in the past four years, better has yet to come.