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I plaster a smile on my face, but my stomach seizes with anxiety. I look at my cell to check the battery level. For once, I’m thankful that I didn’t spend my break scrolling through social media. My phone is still at eighty percent which should get me through the rest of the night. I breathe a sigh of relief as I start filling orders.
“Would you mind writing down the credit card numbers with the names?” I ask hopefully. “I’m more than happy to do the cash transactions.”
Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes.
I’d much rather deal with giving back change to customers than possibly messing up writing down numbers and causing a huge mess. I can see it now… Waylon would try to run the cards once the machines come back up, and none of them would work because I missed a number or wrote down the wrong ones.
“Sure, I can do that,” Tony agrees.
I reach out to fist-bump him. “You’re the best!”
Waylon appears from the back and drags his hands through his hair. “Sorry, guys. The computers won’t come back up.”
“Not a problem, boss.” Tony winks. “Me and Skye have it covered.”
“Okay, I’m gonna go fill in the waitresses.”
When Apple takes the stage, the crowd gets deathly quiet, but it doesn’t last long. As soon as the music starts, chaos ensues. She starts the set by singing Malicious Intentions, one of my favorite songs, so I lift my phone and record the performance. As soon as the song is over and she starts to belt out another tune, I flip back to my calculator.
Lana sashays up to the counter. “Can I have three shots of tequila, two beers, and a bottle of water?”
“Absolutely.” I place the shot glasses on the counter and start filling them before grabbing the beers and bottle of water. “Here you go.”
“Thanks.” Lana loads her tray and heads directly for the V.I.P. section. Mel and Cece lift their shot glasses up to me, and I give a small wave back before turning my attention back to the bar.
“Can I get four beers?” a large man asks.
“Sure thing.” I fill the mugs and calculate the total. “Twenty-six dollars.”
He hands me thirty, and I give him his change. Another customer steps forward, but the red battery bar of death on my phone taunts me.
Three percent. What the fuck?
As I swipe through the phone, I could kick myself. A Solitaire game and my camera app are running in the background. I can’t believe I didn’t swipe up on the apps to close them out. Now my battery is drained, and I still have two hours to get through before this hellish night is over.
Another man steps up to the bar. “Can I get a couple shots of Jack and a couple of beers?”
Sweat drips down my back, and I wipe my palms down my jeans before taking a few steadying breaths to calm my heart rate. I can probably use my phone a few more times before it dies. I finish up the order and wave to Tony.
“What’s up?”
“I need to run to the bathroom real quick,” I explain.
“Should be okay.”
Holding my phone tight, I head toward the employee break room. I dash toward my locker, yank it open, and riffle through my purse.
Shit!
My phone charger isn’t here. I can clearly see it sitting on the counter in my kitchen where I left it this morning. In my hurry to get to work, I forgot to bring it with me.
No… no… no. This can’t be happening. I vigorously shake my head in denial, but there’s no way around the inevitable. I’m totally fucking screwed. I don’t even have my backup calculator.
You can do this! Go slow, and use your damn brain.
I grab a small notebook and pen and hightail it back to the front before Waylon comes looking for me. The counter is a mess when I get back, and Tony’s shoulders slump in relief when he sees me.
“Jump back in quick, Skye.”
