Page 41 of Deck the Skulls
She pulled another pint from the tap and handed it over. While he was taking his first swallow, she noted down his drink in the ledger Zan kept behind the counter. It turned out that he billed the regulars once a month for their drinks. No place Rissa had ever worked did that, but Zan said the people who came to Sanguine were part of a small community, so things were done differently here.
The place was still in business, so who was she to question how they did things?
A trio of two men and a woman walked in. The first guy was normal sized and dressed in nice slacks and a button-up shirt. The second guy was big, not as giant as Mason, but still large enough to have to duck slightly to make it through the doorway. In comparison, the woman next to him was tiny!
“I’m so ready for a drink!” the woman said. When she saw Rissa, her smile dimmed a little, and she looked puzzled. “Uh, hi, where’s Zan?”
Rissa kept her customer service smile in place. “Zan had to run out, but I can make anything you like.”
Both men stepped up to stand on either side of the woman. The big guy took her hand, and the smaller one wrapped an arm around her shoulders. The way they surrounded her was sweet and pointed to them being a throuple. She’d met more throuples while working in Sanguine than she had in her entire life. It was nice.
The smaller guy gave her an inquisitive look. “Zan makes the drinks that Cora likes. When will he be back?”
“Zan left me with his recipe book,” Rissa said, understanding now why Cora’s smile had flagged. She held up the battered notebook. Then she set it down and flipped toward the back. She was sure she’d seen the name Cora there. Triumphantly, she held up the notebook. “Found it! I have Cora’s drink right here. If you guys take a seat, I’ll mix it right up.”
Cora's expression went from mild disappointment to excitement. “Perfect! I’ve been looking forward to a Cora Cocktail all week!”
“It’s only Tuesday,” the bigger guy murmured.
“Don’t tease me, Pike,” she said. “Considering the number of pain-in-the-ass clients I’ve had, it feels like it’s already been a week.”
“I offered to eat them,” the smaller guy said, making Cora chuckle as they led her to a table in front of one of the bar's windows.
“Thanks, Kimble,” Cora said. “I’ll keep that in mind if Donald gives me trouble again.”
Rissa focused on mixing Cora’s cocktail while the three’s conversation joined the gentle buzz of talking in the small bar.As she mixed, she got three other orders that she jotted down on a small pad of paper. Although years of waitressing gave her a great memory for orders, she didn’t want to risk alienating one of Zan’s customers by mixing up a drink. This place was precious to him, and she was starting to feel privileged to work here.
No one here yelled at her, snapped their fingers, or got nasty. Some customers weren’t very talkative, but that was the worst it ever got. Many of the clients were even so friendly, they constantly invited her to join them for a drink. It was sweet and made her never want to work anywhere else ever again.
Reading the little note at the bottom of Cora’s Cocktail, she added a bunch of colorful garnishes to the drink, then saw that Zan had written in Pike’s and Kimble’s preferences in a different ink color. The second day she worked here, he made sure to add details like that to the notebook. It helped her a lot, and she was able to pour the two men drinks before carrying everything over to the throuple.
“Here we are, one Cora Cocktail,” she announced, setting it down in front of the petite woman. “Here’s a glass of Hefeweizen for Mr. Pike and red wine for Mr. Kimble.”
“It’s just Pike and Kimble,” Pike said with a smile. “No mister needed.”
“Red wine?” Kimble asked, picking up the glass and sniffing.
“It’s the special stuff,” she promised. “Zan gave me a list of everyone who can only drink that specific vintage because of allergies.”
“Oh, yes, my allergies,” Kimble agreed, taking a sip, then smiling up at her. “Zan is very thoughtful about that.”
“He really is,” she agreed. There were so many lists of preferences and individual cocktails that sometimes it took her minutes to find what she needed to know. There had to be a better system!
She looked at Cora. “If that drink isn’t as good as what Zan would make, then it’s on the house.”
“I bet it's perfect,” Cora said.
Rissa would’ve liked to chat a little more, but she had several orders to fill, and Mason was probably ready for another beer. “Shout if you need me.”
“Allergies?” she heard Cora ask as she turned, but she couldn’t hear the rest as she moved through the pass-through and started fixing more drinks. She winced, hoping she hadn’t revealed something Kimble didn’t want Cora to know!
Suddenly, Anatoly was standing next to her with a tall glass of ice water. “You need to drink some water. You haven’t had anything for over an hour.”
At least she wasn’t holding a drink this time. Last time he’d done that, she spilled someone’s beer all over the counter and had to draw a second one.
“We need to get you a bell or something,” she muttered, then felt bad. He was only trying to look after her. “I’ll drink that as soon as I get these orders out.”
“You say that and then you forget,” he argued, turning her to face him. Moving in close, he pressed her against the counter, his pelvis against her belly. She leaned back a little, not intimidated but turned on. She couldn't help it; she loved it when he got forceful.