The Bartender Novels & Stories

All of them look the same no matter if they are eighteen or forty five. Someone waves from a table in the back, next to the cramped dance floor. I wave back before gesturing toward the bar. The bartender is an old sleepy man with a pot belly and long gray hair tied in a ponytail. He has an obvious bald spot that he tries his best to hide with the thin gray hair.

Nevertheless, as soon as I sipped the cocktail that I had ordered, the rock that had been lodged in my throat was expelled. "I… I am," I stuttered out. The bartender gave off a friendly vibe. The tattoos on his arms are visible due to the shortened sleeves of the polo he was wearing at the time. In addition to that, his hair is blonde, and before he curled it, it was straight. "I see. You don't seem to have any buddies with you, do you? It's not safe for a woman to go out walking by herself at night." I gave a slight shake of the head before continuing. That's not necessary. Please bring me another three beers."

She has a way of making me feel good. “Hi,” the bartender smiled at me when he saw me. “What do you want this fine evening?” He's dressed in a blue shirt and black slacks —same with the other waiters. “A glass of water,” I replied, not in the mood to have anything else. He looked shocked by my order, but he didn't voice it. He just smiled before he went over to get the glass I requested for. I tapped my fingers to the beat of the music coming from the speaker. I nodded my head as I glanced around once more.

“Tequila.” The bartender, tall, tired eyes, maybe in his thirties, definitely the type who’d seen a hundred women like me come and go, glanced at me. I felt it. That hesitation. Like maybe he’d say something. Like maybe I’d reached some invisible limit. Because I am a god-damned woman who didn't look like the type to drown her shits in the solace of drinking. Like I am the kind who’s all so innocent to avoid this kind of world. A world of rougues and bitches.

I twisted my wedding ring around my finger, the metal warm and heavy, then ordered a whiskey neat. The bartender didn’t rush. He was tall, maybe six-two, with rolled-up black sleeves showing tattoos that disappeared under the fabric. Forearms corded from years of shaking drinks. Dark hair, a little messy like he’d run his hands through it too many times during the shift. His name tag said Jax. He poured the whiskey without asking twice, slid the glass across the polished wood, and gave me a look that felt like he’d already read half my story. “Rough night?” he asked, his voice sounded tired, but still carried impact.

She shook her head again and ran out of the bathroom. *************** Her Becardi Rum. A muscular handsome guy snapped at the Bartender. Here it is bro. The bartender gave it to him and smiled. You new here? Haven't seen your face before. The bartender smiled again. No, I've been here before. Remember the grey hair guy who drunk danced, at the stage. The guy asked and the bartender laughed. Ohh.. so, you dyed your hair black. Sorry bro,I couldn't recognize you. You okay? The bartender grinned.

Thomas explained. "Hmm..." Aurora made a mischievous expression. "Who is it?" "A guy from accounting... and he's British!" Thomas whispered, emphasizing the last part. "Good evening, miss!" greeted the bartender with a nod. "What would you like to drink?" "I won't be drinking tonight, thank you." "Are you sure? Not even a glass of water?" "Actually, I'll have the water!" The bartender nodded in agreement and moved away to fulfill the order. "Friend, is it just me or is the bartender super nervous around you?" Thomas observed.

The piano’s polished exterior and the poised posture of the pianist suggest an evening filled with soft, enchanting melodies. Against one wall, a fully stocked bar boasts an impressive collection of fine wines and spirits, the bottles displayed like precious jewels. The bartender, dressed in a crisp white shirt and black vest, stands at the ready, prepared to mix any drink requested. The shelves are lined with rare vintages and top-shelf liquors, promising a delightful selection for even the most discerning palate.

Two scarred passers-by spoke to each other. “Not really. I was with my woman all night.” another said near him. They both stopped. One looked over to the bartender. “Big-TEE, the usual.” They both walked up to the bartender. Big-TEE, the name of the leading bull sized bartender nodded as he turned to his shelves behind side picking some liquors.

The bartender accepts his order, and taking several bottles and two glasses, he starts doing a lot of tricks and juggling, spinning the glass around his body and the bottles in the air, throwing ice, and doing a bunch of other stuff. "Wow... See that Dominik, he's doing amazing things!" I say excitedly, watching the bartender preparing our drinks in that amazing way. Hugging me from behind as we watch the bartender doing his show, Dominik replies, "Yes, I see that, that's common among high-class bartenders." "Really? That's amazing..." Unable to help but smile, I continue to watch mesmerized as th