The Bartender Novels & Stories

"Some of it. Most of it? Not important." The bartender—a young guy with a shaved head and too-wide eyes—caught sight of the stains and froze mid-clean. His hand, which had been wiping down a tumbler, started to tremble. The glass clinked against the bar. Xalor gave him a crooked smile. "Relax. It’s not your blood," he said, voice calm, coaxing. Then, more firmly: "And it’s not important." The bartender swallowed hard, nodded, and poured a drink anyway. His hand shook the whole time. The whiskey sloshed into the glass like it didn’t want to be there either.

After I leave the house, now I'm in the club and it looks like the bartender is shocked to see me here again, I immediately go in front of him but I stop for a minute when he calls someone on his phone, he put down his phone and I see that he click the speaker on his phone, "That bastard," I whispered, "excuse me? are you saying something?" the bartender said, I shake my head and close my arms, "Anyways what's your name?"I said and smirked, I see that he gulped, "You see, I missing someone right now, so can I ask for something?" I said and stretch my arms,

Which wasn't hard, considering the reason she was here. The bartender, a rangy man who could've been anywhere from mid-forties to mid-sixties, wandered over. His steel gray brows shot up as she slid onto a stool. "You in the right place, honey?" His voice was gravel and his face was dominated by a mustache that was a way-less-attractive homage to Sam Elliot. "I'll give you a hundred bucks for a bottle of Jack, a clean glass, and no questions."

They all happen to have gigantic statures, and I wondered if it was a criteria for them to be recruited. I was very wary of the men around, as I continued to follow closely behind Martinez. The latter sauntered towards the bartender, who was also giving us a murderous glare. Martinez didn't seem to mind any of them. "Tequila shots for me, iced Martini for the lady." He ordered the bartender, and I resisted the urge to tell him that I didn't want any drink. "I thought your kind aren't supposed to be seen in pubs." The old, grumpy bartender finally spoke up, and I found out he was missing a couple tooth.

He flashes back to the locene, he’s more devastated. “What can I get you man, you look like you have been through some real ass shit.” The bartender asked after noticing him for a few minutes. Bartenders generally have the ability or the super power of being able to read people’s moods just by looking at their faces. “Tequila.”

She snapped. Instead of him replying to her question, he instead facing someone at his front. The bartender. "will you get her what she needs or you wanna serve it with tears and on your knees.?" he growled. The bartender shivering down. His eyes popping out. "sorry, just won't harm her." He says. "Many meaning. I know you won't hurt her. I want you serving her pretty fine now." Beta Ravi mumbled The bartender drops a glass of drink down in her. "Beta, I am nowhere close to your authority. But I was just.."

The low hum of voices, the dim lighting, the distant sound of ice clinking in glasses—it all felt detached from the chaos of the night, like a separate world entirely. A world where people drank to forget. And right now, forgetting sounded like the best thing I could do. I made my way to the counter, sliding into an empty seat. The bartender barely glanced at me as he finished pouring a drink for someone else. He was middle-aged, with tired eyes and a posture that suggested he had seen too much. I tapped the counter. “Whiskey.” He raised a brow but didn’t question it. Within seconds, a glass was set in front of me, the amber liquid catching the light.

Why can’t I see, even the strand of his hair? Biting my lower lip, I doubted if my Intel is right. What if he isn’t here? Then I only wasted my time. With a sigh, I approached the counter of the bar. There I saw the bartender working in the place. He’s wearing a black and maroon jest, and currently mixing drinks. He’s entertaining to watch, so I feel a bit sorry for interrupting him. “Ahhhm, excuse me.” The bartender stopped and looked at my way. Soon, a friendly but not malicious smile spread on his lips.

She looks up at the bartender and smiles. Wow

I don't have anyone to take me back home, I might get sick. I don't want my baby to get worried about me. He cried once when one day I got sick, just a fever. I sat on a stool near the male bartender who was busy mixing drinks. Behind the bartender are lined up different kinds of drinks such as whiskey, vodka, rum and more. I looked around bored and my eyes widened when I didn't think I would see him here. He's on the second floor while holding a glass of alcoholic beverage. he was watching from below, everywhere his deadly gaze landed so it was possible that he could see me too.