The Bartender Novels & Stories

He looked at her over his shoulder and smirked. Damon, who was standing in front of the stage, clapped his hand. “Ella Darling, go smack his ass!” “I do not want to,” she replied, looking away from the display of nudity in front of her. She was looking at the bar where the bartender, a guy with silver hair who had a small tattoo on his neck — she could not figure out what his tattoo was from the distance. The bartender poured the drink he was making and gave her a combination of a smile and a shrug.

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.

she said. "Nothing to be sorry for, love," you said. "We can talk when you're ready, but I figure maybe this isn't the right place?" She looked around and grinned. "Yeah, definitely not the right place." "Twenty bucks," the bartender said, presenting our drinks. Fuck me sideways, you thought. You put a twenty and a five on the bartop, and he didn't even say thank you as he walked away to other customers. "Hey you guys," Mosche said, appearing from somewhere around the back of the bar, his lanky gait making him stand out.

The bartender, a gruff but efficient man with a thick beard, nodded as he took Enzo's money. "Coming right up," he said, expertly mixing two shots of a dark, amber-colored liquid. Enzo watched as the bartender worked, his eyes scanning the bar's patrons. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, laughing and chatting with each other. The bartender handed Enzo the two shots, and he downed them one after the other. The liquid burned his throat, but he welcomed the sensation. He needed something to take his mind off the events of the day. As he sat there, nursing his drink, Enzo's thoughts wandered a

At the extreme end of the pub was the bartender mixing another round of drinks. He was in a light cream shirt that had the tongue of a female out, and his face tats were piercing today. Honestly, he should have been a warrior and not a bartender. What a waste of talent! I slapped my palm on the table the moment that I got to him, and he lifted his brow lightly towards me. I watched as he bowed at once, fidgeting lightning with the liquor, causing some of the contents to spill on the table. "Greetings, Sir Raven," he mumbled, slightly flustered.

The room was filled with laughter, low voices of people enjoying their conversations and the occasional glass clinking. I and Soo-Jin got to the bar and settled in he last two stools that were in the darker parts of the room. We called out to the bartender to launch our plan. The bartender was a tall and had the eerily feeling of mystery attached to him, he moved gracefully , mixing drinks with skill and precisions, skills that he must have perfected over the years.

I said to the bartender, my elbow resting on the bar stand. “How many glasses?” Demonstrating with a finger, “Just one. I don’t have a companion.” “Ok.” The bartender reached for a bottle of whiskey and a glass. He served me. “Ice?” “Yes.” He brought some ice, dropping it closer to the bottle. And then he sent his focus to the next person beside me, “Your order, Ma'am.” I paid no more attention to their conversation as I focused on my drink. I reached for the bottle of whiskey, and I took out the cork. I served my glass and gulped down quite a quantity. The words of Brooks played in my head as I laughed hard like a madman.

I deserve at least one glass to drown my sorrows. “Here you go,” The bartender says, sanding me the glass full of dark red liquid. I brought the glass up and my nose curled and my lips puckered from the sour smell. I sure hope it tastes better than it smelled. I took a small sip and I gagged so I sat back on the bar and the bartender laughed at me. “First time?” I nodded. The bartender was in his twenties and he was built strong with tattoos all over his body, his face was smooth and his nose was tilted slightly to the left . I couldn't tell what color his hair was since he wore a cap but he was a

Sensing the gravity of the situation, the bartender stuttered nervously. "I swear, I didn't know she was your girlfriend. I didn't even catch her name," he pleaded, fear evident in his eyes. Nelson, maintaining a calm demeanor, reassured the nervous bartender, "Relax, I'm not here to cause you trouble. You'll be compensated for your cooperation." As Nelson spoke, the hired artist arrived, setting up the tools to capture the bartender's description. The bartender, now slightly more at ease, nervously repeated Natasha's features, not knowing the gravity of the situation he had inadvertently stepped

She had always been very careful and even more paranoid than I was. “Two whiskeys on the rocks,” I said as we both got to the bartender. He was a bald-headed man who had a ginger bushy beard, clad in a sleeveless leather jacket over a dirty white shirt. He had a mixture of red and white inked tattoos running up and down both his arms. “Coming up,” He said in a gruff manner and turned away from us. “You have a few admirers,” Yulia whispered to me with a mischievous smile.