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“Going out again I see,” he says.
“Yeah. I shouldn’t be so late tonight.” I’ve cancelled my date, so that’s probably true, but I’m not sure why I said it. I’m a man without a plan. Yet, I still know I’m going to Sweet Cocktails.
“Have a good night. Do you want me to send someone to pick up your car?”
“If Dad’s offering, I might have a lift too.” I wink at my grandpa, knowing my question is cheeky. My dad picks up my car on Saturday night after he gets back from taking my mum to bingo. We say our goodbyes, and I grab my keys from the kitchen table.
I get into my car, wind the windows down, and drive across the city to the docks. The warm breeze feels good without my suit jacket. Tonight, the air seems fresher than usual. I’m feeling lighter without the company of a stranger in the passenger seat.
When I get into the bar, my gaze immediately roams for Nellie, but I can’t see her. Someone else is polishing the glasses, she’s not on the main floor serving, and someone else brings the wine from the back room. She always works Saturday nights, so where is she? I move into my usual booth with a good view of the bar.
The space begins to fill up and the staff are rushed off their feet. Twenty minutes pass while I people watch. No one serves me, Nellie doesn’t show, and instead of having a date to stare at, I find myself seeking out someone I shouldn’t care about. Nellie and I aren’t friends. Actually, I barely know her.
After checking my watch, I get up, ready to leave. Something’s glitched tonight. Either not having a date has unset my balance, or I’m missing my non-friend.
As I turn to face the door, the woman in question finally pushes through it. Her cheeks are rosy-red, her hair is a mess, and she’s panting for air. She looks like she’s run a marathon.
She holds up her hand, getting the attention of one of the bartenders. “I’m here,” she says, loud enough for everyone to hear. People look at her, and the person behind the bar waves with relief.
“What happened?” I ask, walking over to her. An overwhelming desire to touch her overcomes me, but I don’t act on it. Instead, I push my hands into my pockets.
What is happening to me? I shouldn’t care why she’s late.
Her eyes widen as she takes me in. “Mr McNabb. You look different.”
Hearing my formal title rubs me the wrong way. I want her to call me by my Christian name. Usually, she sees me in a suit, but I wasn’t wearing one earlier. Dare I say I want her to see me as more than a customer? “I’m still dressed to impress.” I smile at her, showing off my threads. All the feelings mixed in my head aren’t going to lead anywhere, so I squash them down.
“Is your date dazzled?” She smiles, clearly amused.
I scratch the back of my head, ready to admit a little bit of the truth. “Actually, I cancelled on her.”
“Oh.” Her lips drop, but she recovers quickly, only her smile isn’t as playful.
“Nellie,” one of the staff shouts. Some of the customers at the bar throw us a dirty look. Coming back to our senses, we notice the crowd around us. I can’t be taking up all her time when she has work to do.
“Coming,” she replies. “I have to go.” She talks to a few of the girls before heading into the back.
The booth I was sitting in is now taken by an older couple, and I’m ready to let it go. I look around for somewhere to perch.
Tonight seems like a bust; maybe I should go home. It would save my dad a trip, and I don’t have company anyway. I rub my neck while pondering over my decision.
Nellie reappears in the bar area with her uniform on and her tamed hair tied up. One of the members of staff says something to her, then they both look directly at me. She waves me over and gestures to one of the stools.
It takes me only a few seconds to follow her instruction. She’s giving the branch I need to take the next step, and even though I didn’t realise I needed it, I accept. I sit down, and she puts a glass of whiskey in front of me.
“Thanks,” I say.
She smiles and moves to the next customer. I watch her serve the people waiting until Sweet Cocktails starts to quieten down. She refills my drink a couple of times, and I spend my time people-watching. There’s a married couple relaxed in each other’s company, and new couples trying to impress each other. It gets me thinking about what I want. Maybe the old married couple isn’t what I had in mind, but the new one no longer excites me either.
A group of guys about my age are having a laugh at the far end of the bar. They’re rowdy, obnoxious, and getting louder.
Nellie goes over to serve them. “What can I get you guys?” She sounds merry, but I bet she doesn’t feel it.
“You look like a yummy snack. Are you on the menu?” a guy with black hair and a well-groomed beard says. I clench my fist tightly around my glass.
“Sorry, I’m not. All Sweet Cocktails drinks are on the menu.” She hands over one and the men look at it.
“I’ll take you in a bikini martini,” the guy says, making his friends laugh.
