Scrubs

“Don’t you already make way more than enough money on tips during the weekend shifts? It gets so crowded in here I can’t even get through the front door.”

Robert shook his head, “To be honest, I probably would have been too drunk to even notice you if you came in. Those nights are insane.”

“From the drinking, or too busy flirting with all of the women who come to you?”

“I can’t help it if the ladies wanna take shots with me before they come home with me,” he bragged, doing a little shimmy in place.

I rolled my eyes and shook my head, chuckling a bit at his playboy antics. Robert was a nice guy. Attractive, funny, and actually had a brain on his shoulders. Having worked in the service industry for over ten years, he could immediately figure out which situations to be involved in and which ones to ignore. As much as I trust his thinking, I still hoped he thought with his brain instead of his dick when it came to the women he slept with. I don’t want him to text me one day asking for a personal evaluation about “Hey, are these warts around my junk?”

Robert and I both heard the other customer at the bar call out for service. Doing his job, Robert nodded at me before he went down to see what the customer wanted. I focused on myself and slowly sipped away at my beer. A minute or two passed before I saw Robert put another glass down in front of me.

“What’s this?” I questioned, looking up at him.

Robert nudged his head toward the other customer at the bar, “Wanted to buy you a drink, the last of whatever you had.”

I looked down at the glass and saw a clear liquid inside. I picked it up and sniffed it. “Is this that fancy tequila you poured for me?”

“Yup.”

“Don’t you guys charge like forty bucks a glass of it?”

“Yup.” Robert leans in and whispers to me, “I’m gonna laugh when I hand him the bill.”

I couldn’t help but snicker, “You’re evil for that, Roberto.”

He backed up and raised his hands for a moment, “Just doing my job, Diane. Ya can’t blame me. Besides, you’re not paying for it.”

He’s got a point there. Plus, it would be rude to turn down a free drink. Down the hatch.

I looked down to the other end of the bar and saw the man sitting there. He was already looking in my direction, smiling as he had a glass raised up for a toast. I picked up mine and toasted with him. From just a small sip of the tequila, I was hit with a mixture of aromas and flavors: smoky and smooth, a hint of vanilla and a clean finish with no aftertaste. I wasn’t sure of the brand, but just from having a sip of this, I could see why it’s priced high for a single glass.

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