Hazed

by Brittany Butler

  ****

  The next day arrived at the bar by three. I was a little ambitious today; I spent extra time and curled my hair. After a coat of mascara and flirty, pink gloss, I left my car and walked into the bar. Randy, the manager, sits at the bar top, reading. The bar is dim and I scan the room, finding no one else in sight. I nudge a chair to get his attention. His head snaps up with a soft smile.

  “You’ll be with Shea tonight. She’s in the back,” he says. He quickly loses interests in me and sets his eyes to the book in front of him.

  “She doesn’t know where the back is.” Hayze walks up and motions for me. “C’mon Taylor. Lazy fucker,” he whispers and shakes his head.

  He shows me to the back, the walls are a grimy yellow, and the gray tiles are slick from water. A small, industrial kitchen is to my left, but Hayze leads me further. A tall girl, with wavy blonde hair, is pouring ice into the bin when we walk up. I look up to her impressed, she stands at least six foot tall. She stops, wipes her hand on her dark apron and offers her hand.

  “I’m Shea. You must be Taylor,” she says. Her bright green eyes shine as she speaks. Her smile is contagious. I can see her becoming a close friend.

  “That’s me. Thanks Hayze,” I say as he leaves me with Shea. He nods his head then disappears to the front.

  “Finally, another girl in this place, I’m training you tonight!” She places the cover over the ice bin and walks to the front.

  “First things first, the menu,” she says. She brings it over her mouth, peaking at me over the top. “Luckily, we don’t sell a lot of food. Just alcohol, and of course, that’s easy to memorize.”

  “Of course,” I say, trying to sound convincing.

  No one I’ve met, aside from Lea, knows the extent of my innocence. The only time I ever had a drink was when I visited my nana alone. She swore to me wine was good for her blood and insisted I had a drink with her. Of course, she could’ve stopped at one glass and not finished off the bottle. But I had fun with her, we shared moments that no one else in my family had with her. She always sent me off, making me promise to not tell my dad.

  Shea hands me a paper copy. I fold it into a perfect square and tuck it into my back pocket as she moves from the seat. She skips to the bar, stopping in front of two guys I don’t recognize. The taller one has long, black hair. The guy to his right is shorter, stockier with a buzzed head.

  “Eric! Jace! This is Taylor, our new waitress.” I shake their hands. Eric the tall one smiles and welcomes me, while Jace waves from a distance.

  “Well, that’s everyone,” she says, looking around the bar and shrugging. “Besides the cook, but you won’t see him ever.”

  “Really?”

  “Yep, we’re only open Thursday through Sunday.”

  “Doors open in thirty,” Hayze says.

  He walks through the bar holding plates of food. Shea’s twig of an arm loops through mine, dragging me to the table.

  “And this is what we do until doors open. Eat some. You can thank me later when your nerves are shot, but your stomach is full.”

  “Jesus, Shea, you’re gonna run her off before she starts,” Hayze says.

  His brown eyes find mine. A brief smile plays on his lips. My head dips and breaks our contact. I pop a chip in my mouth as my eyes dance across the bar.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assure them.

  “Do you go to ETU?” Shea asks.

  “My first semester. You?”

  I scoop a chip in the queso, checking the time. The doors open any minute and my stomach is in knots.

  “I’m a junior. I guess it’s show time.”

  We each grab a plate. Shea shows me where to dump dirty dishes. I follow her around like a lost puppy, mimicking her moves. Randy unlocks the large wooden doors, and dims the lights as music blares over the speakers.

  “You’re just going to shadow me this weekend. Don’t get overwhelmed, everything will be second nature to you in no time.”

  She smiles, her bright eyes watch me, nodding her head until I agree with her.

  A group of rowdy patrons walks in. Their collars are popped, hats are backwards—as I study them closer I realize they’re wearing the same outfit, with different colors. A second group of guys join them. They drag a table across the floor until it connects with the first, while they shout over each other, retelling the night before. With a side grin, Shea flicks her wrists, pointing to them and I follow her to the table.

  “There’s our girl,” one of them shouts. He stands and his arms circle around Shea.

  “This is Taylor, she’s our new waitress. Be nice to her.”

  “Taylor, I’m Corey. You should come to the house this weekend, back to school party.” The shortest of the squad offers his hand to me. He laughs as he stumbles and slurs. His eyebrows wag at me, his eyes droop with intoxication.

  “The house?”

  “They’re in a fraternity,” Shea explains, rolling her eyes. She takes a step back and motions for me to do the same.

  “So, whatcha say?”

  “Uhh, maybe,” I answer.

  I reach for the drink tray on the table, but he grabs my arm. Scowling, I jerk away from his hold, but it doesn’t faze him. He kicks his grin up a notch and steps closer.

  “Maybe? You can do better than that.”

  Something about the grin of a drunken man turns me off. The way they regard women as if they are already a done deal. I’ve never understood the attraction. My blood boils and I almost tell him off, but Shea comes to my rescue.

  “Corey, she said maybe—” Shea starts.

  “Fuck with her again and you’re out of here,” Hayze says, cutting her off.

  His arms are folded against his chest; he looks slightly amused. As if he knows the guy won’t push him. With wide eyes, I turn and storm to the back. Shea catches up with me.

  “Sorry, he’s really drunk. He shouldn’t even be in here. He won’t say anything again. Hayze doesn’t let drunk douchebags mess with us.”

  “You’re right, sorry. Let’s get back out there.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” She bumps her shoulder into me until I grin.

  “This is probably the last place I should’ve applied. I have absolutely no experience with this kind of thing,” I say, motioning around the bar.

  “Hey, don’t talk like that! It’s your first night, and you’re doing great! It’ll get better and don’t worry about experience. This is college, you’ll leave here having experienced everything,” she laughs.

  “Gee, is that supposed to make me feel better?”

  She slings her thin arm around my neck and tows me into the bar. The loudest table stands and shove their chairs under the tables. The contact sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

  A couple of girls walk in; the shorter one tugs her shirt down and leans over the bar. Hayze walks over, leans against the bar with his elbows propped on the counter. His face is smooth as he speaks to her, he winks and walks off.

  “I’m gagging,” Shea tells me.

  “Does he really fall for that?” I nod in their direction.

  “Correction, do they really fall for that?”

  With my nose scrunched, I ask, “What do you mean?’

  “He’s just bored, and well, I think they hope they’re the one. That they will be the one to change him, or at least, that’s what I think. Or maybe it’s the bad boy thing he has going for him. I can understand it I guess…We made out once, it was nothing. I have a boyfriend now, but I do understand the attraction.”

  I look back at the pair. The girl is smiling as she rubs his arm. “So, what does he do? Just like date them ‘til he’s tired of them?”

  She laughs while dragging me to a table. “No, he doesn’t date them. I’m pretty sure he’s tired of them before the night’s over.”

  “And you are friends with this guy?”

  “He’s a good guy. Ya know…If you don’t do that…” She points to the bar. I turn to see hi
m lean over, with an amused grin, as the girl slips a folded napkin into his pocket.

  “He’s not going to call her,” Shea says.

  “So, why do they even bother?”

  “My point exactly! C’mon, let’s greet that table.”

  I shoot her a quizzical look and she shrugs. “Hey, I was intoxicated and it was one time!”

  With the worst behind me, the night runs smoothly. The regulars are helpful and promise I’ll catch on quickly. When my shift ends, I walk with Shea to my car past one in the morning. She’s still perky as she invites me out. I politely decline and slump to my car in exhaustion.

  The bar door opens again, Hayze steps out and walks to a car parked in the back. The girl from before is leaning against the car, arms crossed at her chest. I slam my car in gear to escape the scene I don’t want to witness. With brows raised, Hayze waves once as I peel out of the lot.