Semi-Charmed Kind of Life

Chapter 1

"Hi, my name is Pearson and I'll be your server." This was the nobody of the nobody's kind of place. The junkies came here for a late-night snack, the drunks came here to sober up before they had to face their wives. This "place" was my home. I lived upstairs with my dog and my guitar.

There was just one at the table that was supposed to be for two. We're really not supposed to do that, but when it's 7:30 pm and everyone is still pregaming downtown, no one seems to care.

"Can I just have a water?" She flashed her bright blue eyes for a brief moment before looking back down at her phone.

A water. Easy enough to remember. Even still, I have to write it down on this useless piece of paper and check on my only other customer. A guy who looks to be my age, with a joint in his left hand. His other hand was stirring the ice with his straw.

"Are you ready to order or do you need another minute?" He looked at me with fear in his eyes. His eyes told me something major was about to happen, but I didn't dare question it.

Being here for as long as I have, you learn never to question a man (or a woman) sitting at the bar. It's hella dangerous.

"I need another minute." I sat next to him and gave Rob the order for the girl at the table in the back.

A few more people shuffled in and found seats, even though we have to assign them. This was the norm. The usual crowd shuffled in and found their seats and waited for me to come and take their orders.

"Hi I'm Pearson and-." A scream from outside the bar made its way inside. A huge ass crowd of people came in, one of them carrying a limp girl. She looked pale and weak. Just what this bar needs. I sauntered over and took a look at the brunette lying still in the one girl's arms.

"Can you help us? My friend passed out in the street." Her only friend was the one who was holding her? She seemed to have a shit ton of friends judging by the large crowd.

I have two options. I can either be a dick and wave the pretty girl off, or I could help her out. I decided to go with the latter.

"Alright. I'll help her out." I pulled up my jeans and fixed my shirt. She was too pretty for me to look like a dunce. "But," I pointed to the large crowd of people behind the girls, "they have got to go." The blonde with the skimpy ass clothes on nodded quickly and helped me get the crowd of people out of here. Plus, the few people that were sitting around left as well.

"Okay, what do you want me to do?" She asked frantically. She was super busy on her phone answering message after message and taking the occasional phone call.

I looked over at the girl that was laying on the bar and looked back at her dumbass friend. "Nothing. If you could sit outside while you're on your phone, that would be super helpful." She seemed gullible enough to do that and she did. What a dumbass.

The girl on the bar sat up and instantly threw up all over me, immediately laying back down.

"Where am I?" I pushed some hair out of her face and helped her sit upright and onto a barstool.

"You're at a bar. And your group of friends brought you in here." She rolled her eyes.

"They're not my friends. They're groupies. The one who was holding me is one of my friends." She sounded uncertain. I don't blame her. If any of my friends brought me into a bar because I was unconscious, I'd want it to be a good friend, not some fake asshole.

I decided to tell her what I thought of her friend. I'll never see this girl again, so it won't hurt me as much as it might hurt her.

"Your friend seems fake to me. She was on her phone as soon as she set you on the top of the bar. Texting a million people, answering some calls." Tears were rolling down this girl's face by now.