Tracey's in the kitchen when I arrive. I enter and she greets me with a big smile.
"Well hello! Finally, the infamous Kelli. So nice to meet you! I'm Tracey," she walks up to me with her hand extended.
I'm a little taken aback at how friendly she is, but I give her a big smile. "It's really great meeting you, too," I say. "I'm looking forward to seeing how you run things back here."
She laughs, "Well, it isn't rocket science, I'm sure you could probably figure it out yourself. But I have learned a few tricks over the years, and I'm happy to share them with you."
Her helpful attitude calls to mind Sean's reaction to training me, which was the polar opposite. He sat me on a stool and didn't speak to me the entire time he was showing me how to open the bar. Tracey's also his opposite in looks; she's short and dark, with shoulder-length black hair and big brown eyes.
"How long have you worked for Ian?" I ask.
"Oh, about four or five years now, I guess. I studied theatre at USC and have been trying to get a TV gig for what seems like forever. Auditions can come up at a moment's notice and I had a really hard time keeping a job because I was always skipping out whenever my agent would phone. But that's my calling, ya know? I have to audition if I hope to ever achieve my dream. So I kept jumping from one crappy job to the next and then I landed here! Ian is super supportive, and even though it doesn't pay much, he gives me the hours I need to get by and doesn't guilt trip me when I need to take off. And now that you are here, it'll be even better!"
She says all of this in what seems like two breaths and I marvel at her energy and enthusiasm.
"Well, I'm really excited to be here," I say.
"So tell me all about yourself! I understand you moved here from D.C.? And you live just a few blocks away? Pappy told me you used to work at a university in Washington. Why on earth did you want to get a job at a pub? Have you ever worked in a restaurant before? It can be hell! Last Saturday, we got a huge rush of people, all at one time. I swear, I think a tour bus stopped out front or something. Anyway, I only had about a half a pot of stew left and the orders just kept coming … " and off she went. I'm pretty sure she talked without stopping for the next 20 minutes. Luckily, she worked while she talked, so I was able to watch her and even help out when she started making a batch of stew.
At about 8pm, Tracey goes on her break and Ian takes up peeling potatoes with me in the kitchen.
"How's it going?" he asks. "Are your ears bleeding yet from all of Tracey's talking?"
I can't help but laugh. "She does have quite a lot to say."
"That she does," he says. With a probing look, he asks, "So, how are you liking L.A.? Are you glad you moved?"
"I am glad. It's very different than D.C., but a fresh start was what I was after and I think I'm going to get it here. Thanks again for giving me this shot. I really appreciate it. I know you weren't looking to hire, but I'm still hopeful I can prove I'll make it worth your while," I say.
He looks slightly uncomfortable at my rush of appreciation, and quickly changes the topic. "Do you like the Dodgers?" he asks.
"No!" I say forcefully. "I'm a Nationals fan. Um, hello!"
He stops peeling and gives me a hard look. "Well, you better learn to love the Dodgers if you hope to last beyond your trial period."
"You didn't mention that at the interview! Consider this trial off," I say, and begin taking off my apron.
His mouth falls open and he watches me with wide eyes.
"You're seriously quitting because I said you need to be a Dodgers fan?"
I shake my head, laughing. "No, I'm just teasing," I say, as I pull my apron back on. "But I am serious about not becoming a Dodgers fan. I'd follow the Angels before I root for the Boys in Blue, and that's saying a lot considering how much I despise the American League."
"I know. Fucking designated hitter. Totally waters down the sport," Ian grumbles.
"I couldn't agree more!" I say with a smile, glad we agree on that, at least.
"What do you have against the Dodgers?"
"They just seem cocky. And their fans seem like thugs," I say, shrugging my shoulder.
"We are not thugs," he says, offended. "And if we're cocky, it's because we're the best team in baseball."
"Oh, ‘we' is it? Are you on the team? Funny, I didn't notice your name on the roster." I can't help but tease him.
He looks at me wryly, but doesn't answer. After a few minutes of silence, he says, "I'll take you to a game sometime. I'll show you what we're really about. Go Blue!"
My head snaps up to look at him, his attention still on the potato he's peeling. Did he just ask me out? Oh, a girl can dream.
Chapter 3: And Here's Another Day
Pushing open the door on Saturday, I was not expecting to find five customers already sitting at the bar. It's 1pm, the bar isn't even open, and yet it seems these five are already most of the way through their round.
"Here she is," Ian calls across the room, alerting all to my presence. As a group, five heads swivel to eye my approach. With a nod of his head, Ian says, "Welcome. Let the games begin."
I laugh, ducking my head as I cross the room, embarrassed that my body has again decided to react to Ian with a very noticeable tightening of my nipples. If this doesn't stop, I'm going to have to invest in some padded bras! As a 34DD, I never needed the extra help, but I'll be damned if every time I see him, I signal to the world that I'm hot for my boss.
"Let me introduce you to your regulars," Ian says graciously, motioning for me to stand beside him behind the bar. "If it's a weekend, and close enough to opening that someone's on the premises, their asses are affixed to these stools. You can count on it.
This here's Jaye, he's a smartass, and too damn intelligent for his own good. He drinks Guinness or Jameson's and that's about it," finishes Ian. I smile at Jaye, with his wild strawberry blond hair and red beard, and he offers a gruff, "Hey" and a small salute.
"Next to Jaye, we have Tom. Never trust a word this man says, and for God's sake, I beg you, do not sleep with him."
"Hey!" Tom says indignantly, "Give a guy a chance would you? Hello Beautiful, and what would your name be?"
"I'm Kelli," I say, as Tom takes my hand and places a chaste kiss to the back of it.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Kelli," Tom says with a winning smile. He's attractive, no doubt. Tall, leanly built, with wavy brown hair and a megawatt smile, it is clear he doesn't have to work too hard to get women into his bed.
"On the end we have Ben and then Wilson," Ian continues. "Ben drinks only reds - Kilkenny or Murphy's, and Wilson's the lightweight of the group. You'll be lucky if he drinks more than a Harp lager during your shift. He's crap for tips."
I smile at each in turn before looking at the lone woman of the group.
"I'm Abby," she says, thrusting out her hand for me to shake. "I drink everything! That's how I can stand hanging out with these assholes. If anyone gives you any shit, you let me know and I'll kick their ass for you." She has a throaty voice, clearly a smoker, and a wonderful no nonsense air about her. I like her instantly.
"Ian's told you about the initiation, right?" Tom asks innocently.
"What initiation?" I say, looking from Tom to Ian warily.
"On your first shift you take a shot every half hour. If you can finish your shift without puking, you win!" Tom explains.
"I win, hunh?" I ask, laughing. "What exactly do I win? It sounds as though I wake up with a horrible hangover and spend the next day wishing I were dead!"
"Tom," Ian interjects.
"Nah, it's great fun, really, it is," Jaye tries to convince me. "You'll look back on this day for years to come, and laugh and laugh!"
Laugh I do, but I don't plan to drink. "Look guys, I appreciate the sentiment, I'm all for an initiation, but really, I don't do that much drinking. I had my gallbladder out a couple years ago, and ever since, I can't drink for shit. Plus, this isn't my first shift; I've been here since Tuesday. How about you torture me in a different way?"
"What the hell, a bartender who doesn't drink? Ian, why the fuck did you hire her?" Ben barks out. He's already at the bottom of his pint and it seems he may not be the happiest of drunks.
"Back off, Ben," Ian responds with a fair amount of heat in his voice. I look at him then, and he's pinning Ben with a glare that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I feel a little frightened; Ian's intensity is, well, intense. And of course, I'm turned on. His coming to my defense is incredibly sexy.