The Bartender Novels & Stories

Behind the counter stood the bartender, a guy in his late twenties with sharp, hazel eyes and a neatly trimmed dark beard. The sleeves of his black shirt were rolled up to his forearms, showing a faded tattoo on his wrist as he polished a glass with a white cloth. He paused the moment I stepped up to the bar. I leaned against the edge, looking him straight in the eye. "Can I have a Martini, please? Make it strong." The bartender paused, his eyes scaned my face before dropping down to the car keys gripped tightly in my hand. "Vodka or gin?" he asked, over the music.

One minute he was enjoying the company of the one-and-only Claire Drill, the next moment Beatrice had sloped off taking his hero with her. He wasn’t impressed. Not in the slightest. In fact, he could feel the simmer of jealousy building up in his guts with such insistence it made him feel quite shocked. He took a breath and leaned on the bar. The bartender, a man in his thirties wearing a smart tunic and a bored expression, came over to him. “What can I get you?” the bartender said with a forced smile. “Orange juice.” After a few seconds he added, “Put a lemonade in there too, would you?”

Who won’t? “Pretty lady...” the bartender smirks, his lips curling up flirty as he pushes the drink, “today’s special is called ladies killer,” he says, “drink slowly,” he winks, before turning to attend to another customer. Well... I can do a quickie with him, he is cute and handsome in his own way! I bite my lips sensually, my eyes on the bartender, gawking at how he was mixing the liquor together efficiently. I open my mouth to send him an inviting remark before I am interrupted by the screeching sound of the seat beside me being dragged. I instantly wipe my head to look at the intruder and my mouth opens a gap.

A few men murmured One whistled under his breath. Someone said, “Damn…” Good. I made my way to the bar and slid onto a stool. The bartender turned toward me—and froze for a second. He was tall, broad–shouldered, his arms covered in tattoos. He leaned forward, a teasing smile spreading across his face. “Well, well,” he said. “You planning to kill someone tonight? Because you definitely killed me.” I laughed softly. “Just give me a drink.” He chuckled and prepared a cocktail, sliding it toward me.

It's like a facsimile of a club, like everyone inside is just going through the motions, pretending to act out what a real strip joint would be like and getting it nearly wrong. "What can I do for you two, uh, fine people? We got, uh, drink specials." The bartender spreads his hands awkwardly, looking from me to Alessandro, but mostly at Alessandro, who leans with his hands on the bar top and cocks his head. He's a big man, massive almost, with hands the size of watermelons. "I'm looking for the Stazek brothers." The bartender coughs and rubs his balding head. "I'm Joey," he says, glancing to the back hall again. "Mickey's not h

Is it just me or is this place filled with handsome men? The bartender greeted me with a charming grin. “What can I get for you?” “Something strong enough to make me enjoy the night without burning my tongue,” I replied, trying to sound casual. He laughed, clearly entertained. “I’ve got just the thing. Try my signature cocktail, I call it the ‘Lunar Bliss.’” “Sounds fancy. Gimme that.” “Coming right up, milady!” He winked at me and proceeded to whip his special cocktail. He spun the shaker with smooth, practiced movements, his hands a blur of motion. I couldn’t help but raise my eyebrows in awe as I watched his bartending skills.

"This? As someone with access to your contract paperwork, I know you make enough to afford drinks somewhere that wasn't around when the Boston Tea Party went down." "Sorry they don't do espresso martinis or whatever the hell. Here, no hockey fans bother me. If anyone gives me shit, Betty ejects them." He nods at the bartender. She's a gray-haired older woman with a full sleeve of tattoos, who certainly looks like she could single-handedly kick a whole hockey team out of her bar. I sense I've lost this battle. I retrieve the folder from my bag, placing it onto the sticky table. I know Jax is trying to mess with me. But despite my optimism, I'm not afraid to put

“I guess we’re passing up on that one then. How about the racing games?” My eyes narrow, but before I can say anything, the bartender approaches us—a storky man with bald head and a dragon tattoo that peeks over the flesh of his scalp down to his forehead, with shiny green eyes and a cheeky smile. “Ladies,” he chirps—sounding odd for someone of his size. “What brings you tonight and what can I get you? Remember, code only.” Brie winces beside me and the bartender catches it. His gaze lands on me with renewed interest.

He asked with a mischievous smile. "Three shots for us," Marjan ordered with a shy smile. "Does this also taste awful? " I asked Marjan stupidly. "Looks like it's your first time in a bar." The bartender smirked. "Yeah, you can say that." I gave him a tight smile. "That makes sense." He chuckled. "Wait a minute, I'm giving you something so hot and sexy." "I'm Anwar. And you girls?" The bartender took three glasses and started pouring a bottle of whiskey then passed them to us with a charming smile.

That ex-girlfriend, Miss Banks or Miss Museum, whatever her name was, should really consider changing voices with him. “ We'll have two glasses of beer and one Coca-Cola”, Hazel said. “ Right on track sir”, the bartender said and went to go pour in the beer in those huge glasses that had huge handles. “ What's the coca-cola for?” I asked, curious as to why he ordered it. “ You'll soon find out”, he said, a knowing smile plastered on his face. “ Here you go. Two glasses of beer and one Coca-Cola”, the bartender said.