Anna is a sister to me in every sense of the word. We’ve spent the last seven years attached at the hip. We both wanted to apply for law school, so we were in a lot of the same classes. We got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. I had told Anna about my difficult relationship with my mother, and being my roomie, she quickly saw the scars on my back from the physical abuse my mom dished out during her drunken rages.
Of course having an alcoholic mom isn’t something I advertise. It’s not often I think about those awful days, but when I do, I’m filled with the will to survive in the best way I can. What I do at Mickey’s helps me push my memories to the backroom of my mind.Dylan is harder to stop thinking about. We had been neighbors since birth. Our mothers were pregnant at the same time and bonded instantly. We were put into pre-school and grade school together and were good friends. Once my parents divorced, our parents no longer hung around each other. I became quiet and withdrawn at school. Being one of the most popular boys, Dylan had a lot of friends, and girlfriends. We lived very different lives. I need to bury his memory with the rest of my bad ones.
Back home it was hard to tell my story. University was different; a weight had been lifted. Anna got it because she’d had a difficult childhood, too. She was adopted by a couple, but when she was four years old, they’d divorced. Her father had no interest in her from day one and her mother was mentally ill. She spent most of her life in and out of foster care while her adoptive mother was in and out of mental institutions. With histories like ours, we instantly bonded. I had her back; she had mine. We were also both virgins in undergrad, which was a little odd at the age of eighteen. So we came up with relationship rules. We’d both been burned too many times.
I had told Anna how my father had cheated on my mother with his secretary and how messed up things had become with Dylan. His betrayal hurt the most because he was the only constant in my life. He gave me the love and support I never got from my parents, or anyone for that matter. That’s why losing him hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced. My chest constricts at the thought. Anna’s never experienced love. She simply doesn’t trust men.
Our rules were simple from the beginning. Don’t get attached — just have fun. This led me to create a few more rules. Don’t bring a guy back to my apartment; don’t let a guy tell you he likes you. If he does, he’s out the door. Anna set up her rules differently. She likes to have men come back to our apartment. I’m seriously scared she’s going to end up with an STD one day, but she always assures me she’s protected. Our life is school, partying, hooking up with hot guys, and working at Mickey’s.
Why am I even thinking about any of this? I look over to Anna, who’s standing beside me behind the bar. She has a bit of an annoyed look on her face like she’s been talking and I haven’t heard a word she’s said.
“So are you coming to that frat party with me after work or what?” she asks with her hands planted on her hips.
“I don’t know. Which one?” I ask, finally focusing on her.
She knows I’m waiting for her to respond, but I think she wants my complete attention, and I’m still wiping the bar. “Beta Phi, why?” She cocks her head to the side.
I’m a little shocked she has energy for a party like that after such a busy night at work. “Because their parties are insane, and I don’t think I’m up to it. I’ve been feeling a little tired. I must be getting my period.”
Anna drapes her hand over my shoulder. “All the more reason to come out now and get laid before red arrives.”
I look at her wide-eyed. “You do realize I was just getting laid in the backroom, right?”
She’s not fazed at all and waves her hand at me. “Whatever. Let’s go get laid. It’s a Thursday night.”
I inhale a deep breath. I’m miffed, but she knows I’ll give in to her. “Och, fine. Are we heading out right after the shift? Because I don’t feel like going home and changing.”
Anna looks under the bar where her purse is stored and with a wicked smirk on her face, she says, “Sure. I have a dress in my purse.”
I’m about to prepare a rum and Coke, but I stop when I realize what she’s said. “You’re kidding me, right?”
She laughs hysterically. “I don’t kid about fashion, Bandita. I have a dress and a hot red thong waiting for me.”
I shake my head at her. “Wow, you never cease to amaze me.” The truth is I’m not interested enough in fashion to put much effort into what I wear.
Anna smiles. “I know.”
“I’m going in jeans and a tank top.”
“Whatever, you look beautiful in anything.” She smiles sweetly.
I roll my eyes and go back to the kitchen to stack the bar with more glasses. It’s a busy night and we’re starting to run low. When I come back, I see Anna standing on the other side of the bar, checking her cell phone.
I’ve been away from home for seven years, yet sometimes my mind won’t let me forget my horrible childhood. For some reason, tonight I can’t stop thinking about it. I remember picking up Mom from the local bar and having to put her in the car while she was having a temper tantrum. I could barely drive, and she was yelling and smacking my head. The bartender insisted I come and get her because she was making a scene.
I’m jolted out of my thoughts when I hear Anna say, “Earth to Lexi! Can you take their order or do I have to do it myself?”
“No, Anna, I’m doing it. Geez!”
I stand back up and leave the unstacked glasses on the bar. “Hey, can I get you guys a drink?” I ask, leaning over the bar to display my cleavage and flashing a smile.
I notice one of the guys checking me out. He looks down at my cleavage then back up at my face and says, “How about first you give me your number, then I’ll tell you what I like to drink?”
Is this guy for real? I never hand out my number at the bar. It’s my bartender rule 101. Yes, I take my dates to the backroom for a little fun. But they’re men I’m dating. Besides, the backroom is a public space so it’s sexy and uninhibited. I only do it when Mickey isn’t around and there’s a lock on the door, so no one can walk in.
I’m silent, but he’s persistent. “So will you give me your number? I usually don’t do this, but you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”
I smile at him because I don’t want to lose out on tips. “You don’t sound very original there, buddy, and I don’t give my number out at the bar. So, what can I get you to drink?” His earlier cocky smile is gone. With a look of defeat, he mumbles, “I’ll take a Corona. I just gave you a compliment. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I pass him his Corona. He leaves me a twenty and tells me to keep the change. Fifteen dollar tip! Not a bad way to end the evening.
Anna’s gone to the backroom to change, and I head into the bathroom, add some water to tame down my curls, then flip my hair over and shake it out a bit. I run my fingers through it, trying to control my unruly blond locks and slick on some pink lip gloss.
In the foggy mirror, I see Anna walk into the bathroom. I turn my head around quickly. “Holy shit. That is one sexy dress.”
Anna nods. “I know. I plan on getting lucky tonight,” she says, running her hands along her curves and smoothing out her dress.
I burst into laughter. “Like that’s new.”
She purses her lips at me. “Fine. You got me.”
I love her attitude.
We both leave the bathroom. The waitress who’s replacing us gives us a one up, scowling. Our shift ends late, but on this clear night, the stars shine bright and the weather is still warm. We walk down the street, giggling and having fun. The frat party is just around the corner. I hear the music pounding, and as we walk toward the house, I notice some kegs of beer lined up on the front lawn. We walk in, and the party’s already started. Everyone is wasted.