The Magic Man

Chapter 1 - Love

Friday nights were always busy. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't expecting all the people to be crowding the bar that night.

Also, it wasn't something new for me to be exhausted by 10 p.m. However, it was one of the first times that I was exhausted and fuming inside.

I was angry.

I was fucking angry.

The reason? That's a good question. There were so many things pissing me off that day that I couldn't really choose one of them to be the main reason. Right after I woke up and tried to take a shower, I was welcomed with cold water only. Apparently they'd had a problem with the heating system of the building during the night and were too useless to fix it in time. After that, I decided to warm my lunch in the microwave oven and the bloody boiled eggs exploded inside, and I had to clean the whole thing up. In the afternoon, I decided to go to the gym to sweat a bit and relieve some stress, but a dumbbell fell on my toes and now I was afraid I'd lose one of my nails. And in the evening, right before I started my shift, I found a hole in my jeans.

Yeah, exactly where you think the damn hole is.

So now I'd had to tie an apron on the back as well so it would cover my butt and the god damn hole in my jeans.

So, to say that I was pissed off that night was an understatement.

And of course the drunk clients around the bar were not helping make my job any easier that night.

The same drunk guy as always, a tall blond guy who always wore a black beanie, was leaning his head over the counter for the past twenty minutes. Probably I'd have to call the police to get him home. Again.

The tables in the center of the room were all full with young adults hanging out with their friends. At first, when I started working at the bar, I'd be kind of jealous of them. Now I couldn't wait to leave that place and avoid entering another bar or pub when I didn't have to work.

In the back, only one of the five billiard tables was free. I kept eyeing that side of the bar, trying to assess if the players there were any good.

I liked to stop by during my break and try to bet some beers with them.

I usually won, so it wasn't a big deal. Not for me, anyway. Today I wasn't really in the mood for non necessary social interactions, though.

"Hey, blondie", someone called me on the counter a couple of meters away. I shook my head and took two steps to the side to be closer.

"What can I get you?", I asked almost with a robotic voice.

"A jack on the rocks", the man replied with a bored look on his face. "And your number, if you feel like being a good girl". He winked after he said that and I had to control myself not to roll my eyes in front of him.

Men usually don't take 'no' as an answer very well.

After I finished his drink and handed it over to him, I took the bills he handed me and said: "Well, my number is not on the menu".

He opened his mouth to say something else, but I pretended I had something else to do and dove under the counter to get more ice.

I was wearing my black ripped (the normal and my version of ripped) jeans and a black sweatshirt, but as always the bar was extremely hot inside and I was sweating like a pig. So getting some ice was always a relief, because I'd let the cold air hit my face and chest and take a deep breath before I took my place again by the counter.

Thankfully, the guy who had asked for my number was already talking with his friends again and ignoring my presence at all. I took a look at the clock again, for what it felt like the hundredth time in a matter of five minutes.