A/N: This story is purely a way for me to indulge myself. I wanted to write something fun and easy. Not that writing is every easy. And yes, I use the passive voice sometimes, even subconsciously without meaning to (which irritates me too). However, I just wanted to write a story that would let my inner fangirl out as Ive currently been watching Crossing Lines and I love the show. I am disappointed though that Tommy didn't get to stick around. The female protagonist in this story is Asian-American. I wanted to write a story that was a little different than the rest, and to sort of have an outlet for my experiences in being Asian-American. But, I promise, it's not going to be as serious as I'm making it sound. This story is simply a way for me to have fun. Thank you for reading!
Andy sighed in relief as she stepped out from the bus. Spending hours on a plane, a train, then a bus had her worn out and craving for fresh air. She looked around for the exit and walked towards it when she spotted it. The wheels of her suitcase rattled loudly against the tiles.
It was bustling outside the terminal. It was early afternoon so there were many people out and about. Andy was starving—she hadn't eaten since the meal they served her on the plane. She walked down the first street she saw, not really caring if she got lost. She was on her own in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. She felt alive and excited. The only worry she had at the moment was the knot of hunger she felt growing in her stomach.
She passed by small boutiques and shops. She walked slowly, trying to take everything in. She heard people in passing speaking a mix of English, German, and other languages that sounded rich and complex. She was in Friedrichshain, a district in Berlin. She fell in love with the place after she researched about it online. It was an area that was a mix of old and new. There was history yet oncoming gentrification. She liked East Germany because of that; it had a certain duality to it: antiquity blending with modernity.
Andy stopped in her tracks when she saw a large café full of people. There were small tables and chairs outside and it felt quaint. She walked in and felt out of place with her suitcase and frizzy hair that was unkempt from all the traveling. Regardless, she had to eat.
She got in line and looked at the menu. She was glad it was in English. By the time she got to the front of the line she had decided what she wanted to eat. The cashier punched in her order for a vegetable quiche and an espresso.
"14€ please, miss," the cashier said.
Andy pulled out her credit card and handed it the cashier.
"Oh, I'm sorry, miss. We don't accept credit cards here. Only cash."
"Okay, I know I have some euros somewhere here," Andy said as she started digging around in her purse for her wallet.
She pulled it out and started searching for any euros that were mixed in with her American dollars.
"Ten, and…" she had no more bills so she quickly tried to find any coins she might have gotten back as change. She had exchanged her American cash for euros when she got to the airport, but spent most of it paying for her bus fare and coffees along the way. She started feeling flustered. She hated holding up lines.
"I'll pay for it. Just add a Milchkaffee, please. To go," a voice said behind me. I turned around to see a man with dirty blonde hair wearing a suit. He tossed 20€ on the counter.
"Thank you, sir," the cashier said as she started punching in the addition to the order.
"You really don't need to do that," Andy said, feeling embarrassed. "I have cash."
"I'd rather pay for it than having to wait," he replied.
Andy was taken aback by his abruptness.
"At least let me pay you back. If there's an ATM around here I can—"
"It's alright. As long as the line isn't being held up any longer."
Andy's mouth opened to say something back but nothing came out. She couldn't believe how rude he was. The man was at least several inches taller than her and she noted in her head that his face was rugged yet pretty. His eyes were blue and tinged with gray. She could tell by his accent that he was German.
"Milchkaffee, sir," the cashier said as she handed the man his coffee.
"Danke," he said. He left quickly without even taking a second look back at Andy who was left speechless and red-faced.
"Are you sure this is the place?" Andy asked.
"Yep. That's what the Navi says," the taxi driver said as he pointed to the screen at the front of the car.
Andy looked at the address on her phone and looked at the address that the driver had put in. It was the place.
She looked out the window and couldn't help but feel disappointed.
"I swear it looked nicer in the pictures," she muttered to herself.
"It's going to be 7€."
Andy paid the driver and stepped out of the cab. She looked up at the building in front of her. It looked like it was falling apart and the paint was peeling off the corners. The first floor housed a bar that was shuttered. It was probably still closed because it was still early. On the side of the building was a door with a buzzer next to it. She pressed it but there was no sound. She waited a few more moments before she was startled by the voice blaring through the intercom.
"Yes?" the voice shouted.
"H-hi, I'm Andrea. I booked the apartment online—"
"Yes! Yes! Come up, please!"
The shrill buzzing sound echoed down the street as the door swung open almost hitting Andy in the face. Mentally preparing herself, she hoisted up her suitcase and marched up a narrow and steep set of stairs to the top floor. At the top to the right was a long hallway with several doors on each side. A door to her right creaked open. A fragile-looking old lady emerged.
"Andrea?" the old lady squeaked.
"Yes," Andy answered.
The old lady walked over briskly to Andy and pulled her into a hug.
"It's nice to finally meet you," the old lady said. "My name is Agna. Welcome to Berlin!"
"It's nice meeting you too, Agna," Andy forced a smile on her face.
"You must be tired. I'll show you to your apartment." Agna started walking down the hallway. Andy followed.
"Yes, about that," Andy started, "the advertisement didn't say there was a bar on the first floor."
"Oh, the pub! The McConnell's have it owned it for decades. Tommy runs it now that his father's retired."
"Yes, but the advertisement didn't state that and I was really looking for some peace and quiet while I'm here."
"Oh, don't worry, dear," Agna said. "It never gets that loud. Only when there's fights. Or during holidays."
Fights? Andy thought. She was in disbelief.
"You know how Irish men are, dear," Agna said. "Here we are." Agna took a key out from her pocket and jiggled it inside the doorknob. The door opened and Agna walked in and turned on a light.
"Studio apartment," Agna gestured towards the lone bed that had a yellowed mattress and floor lamp covered in dust sitting in the corner. "Fully furnished."
Andy thought it couldn't get any worse than this.
Andy spent the next several hours cleaning the studio and wiping down every dusty surface she encountered. She didn't have much to unpack because her suitcase wasn't very large. She only brought what she needed. She had placed everything else in a storage unit she was renting back home. She left everything and everyone she knew to come here. Some may have called her reckless or impulsive. But she was soon turning thirty years old and she felt she needed to do something for herself. What's better than flying thousands of miles away to live in a country she has never been before?
Because she uprooted her whole life, Andy knew she would have to find a job soon. The money in her savings would only get her so far. It wouldn't be enough to live here for six months. With an exasperated sigh, Andy walked into the bathroom to freshen up. She would need to go to an ATM and get something to eat. It was already approaching night so she would have to venture out before shops started closing.
Full on baked goods from the Netto convenience store down the road, Andy walked back to her apartment. To her surprise, when she arrived, the bar downstairs was no longer shuttered and was open. She could hear the clink of glasses and men laughing from inside. Above the door was a beautiful wooden sign with the name of the bar carved into it that she hadn't notice earlier.
"Finnegan's Wake," Andy read out loud.
She noticed a sign that was taped to the door. It was sloppily written but it clearly read, "looking for barkeep."
No harm in trying, Andy thought.
Nervous, she walked into the bar. She was immediately assaulted with the smell of cigarette smoke and the loud, abrasive voices of the men in the bar. It was a large space with wooden tables and chairs that looked old yet sturdy. There were at least twenty people, all talking and laughing. She could hear music playing, but it was drowned out by all the voices. There was a bar at the way end. She could see one man working and he looked frantic.
Andy walked up to the man who was filling up pints of beer. He didn't notice her.
"Excuse me," Andy spoke up as loud as she could.
He looked up and seemed surprised at first, but smiled at her with one hand still holding a glass while the other pulled on a tap handle. She probably wasn't the type of customers he usually had coming in his bar.
"Would you like anything to drink?" he asked hurriedly.
"No, I noticed the sign outside on the door. Are you still hiring?" Andy asked.
He raised one eyebrow at her.
She could tell he was rather fit under his dark sweater, and his face wasn't bad as well. He had a boyish face and she found him rather attractive. His accent was undeniably Irish. She was guessing this was the Tommy that Agna had mentioned.
He slammed four glasses full of beer down on the bar in front of her.
"You're hired. Now bring these over to those gentleman," he pointed to the table at the far end of the bar.
Andy didn't know what to do at first, but grabbed a tray she saw sitting on the side of the bar and loaded the beer on top. As carefully as she could, she delivered the drinks.
The night continued on as such with Tommy filling drink orders and Andy serving them to the customers. As the crowd winded down, she approached Tommy who was washing glasses.
"Did you want me to help you with that?" she asked.
He looked up and smiled. "No, I'm alright. You can go outside and take a breather if you'd like."
Andy shook her head. If she stepped outside she might smoke a cigarette and all that effort she had put into quitting would be for naught. However, she did carry two sticks with her everywhere just in case.
"Tommy, right?"
He looked at her questioningly.
"Agna told me."
"Ah, so you must live in one of the studios upstairs," he stated.
"Yes, I just flew in today."
"American, right?" Tommy asked.
Andy nodded.
"And what's your name?"
"Andy," she replied coolly.
"Peculiar name for a girl, isn't it?" he chuckled.
"Well, it's short for Andrea," she said, glad that he wouldn't be able to see her cheeks turning red in the dark.
"Ah, that makes sense," he smiled at her again.
She thought he was attractive. He had deep blue eyes and a mischievous smile. He had that classic Irish brogue and look that many women would consider charming.
"So, why would you hire someone whose name you didn't even know?" she asked, trying her hardest to sound coy.
"Well, I figured any help would be better than no help. Besides, even if you were a chancer, I could take you if anything, considering how tiny you are," he laughed.
"I'm not that tiny," she said with a small smile.
"How old are you, anyway?" he asked. He picked up a clean rag and began wiping the glasses dry.
"How old do I look?" Andy rested both elbows up on the bar and peered into his face.
"Honestly? Not a year older than eighteen."
"I'm 28," Andy suppressed a grin at Tommy's bewilderment.
"You Asians and your super genetics," he said.
"Oh, us Asians? And what about you Irish and…" and your sexy accents, she finished the rest of the sentence in thought.
"Us Irish and our what?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes twinkling.
They heard the door opening and Andy turned to stare at the new customers coming in. There were two men, one of them whom Andy recognized as the man from the—
The asshole! Andy thought. He was still wearing a suit, but without the tie. He looked like he just got off of work.
She waited until they sat down before approaching them.
"Could I get you gentleman anything to drink?" she asked as politely as she could as they were in the middle of talking.
"Two Weissbiers, please," the asshole ordered without looking at her.
She stared at him in disbelief as he continued his conversation with his colleague. Andy walked away and asked Tommy for their order.
"Everything alright?" Tommy asked.
"Yeah," she said as she turned to stare back at the asshole.
Tommy placed the two glasses on her tray. She picked it up and walked over to the asshole's table. She placed their drinks down.
"Danke," the asshole said without even looking again.
The nerve of this guy. Who does he think he is?
Andy tucked the tray under her arm and began digging through her pockets.
"Here," she said as handed him the tips she received from customers while working.
The asshole looked up at her, confused.
"Fourteen euro. For my meal you paid for at the café." Andy dropped the money on their table.
"You know this lady?" his colleague asked.
"The tourist," he said softly, his eyes widening in recognition.
Andy scoffed and walked back towards the bar.
"If it's okay, Tommy, can I head back upstairs? I'm really jetlagged."
"Sure, Andy. Will you work tomorrow night?"
"I'll be here," she smiled at him.
She turned to leave and tried to walk out quickly before the asshole noticed her.
"Seven o'clock, sharp!" she heard Tommy yell at her.
She took a deep breath upon stepping out. She walked over to the side of the building and felt sudden exhaustion falling over her in waves. Feeling a little overwhelmed from her first day in Berlin, she decided to give in and have one cigarette. She reached in her back pocket and pulled out one stick and a lighter. She lit it and felt instantly better on the first inhale. She knew it was a bad habit, but she kept telling herself she would quit eventually.
"Could I borrow a light?"
Andy whipped around to see the asshole standing behind her, a cigarette held up between his fingers. He eyed her, but he seemed hesitant almost. Andy took the lighter back out of her pocket and handed it to him. He lit his cigarette and gave her back the lighter. Blowing smoke out of his mouth, he looked her directly in the eyes.
"Did I do something to offend you?" he asked. He seemed genuinely interested in her answer.
She stared at him. She couldn't lie to herself; he was very appealing in a manly sort of way. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone and she could see a little of his skin peeking out. His voice was refined and smooth like silk. Germans really had the softest accents. She didn't really want to talk to him, but she would just to hear him talk. His face was covered in a subtle five o'clock shadow that made him look more gorgeous. Oh, he is gorgeous. But he was still an asshole.
"You don't think you're a little rude?"
"Rude?" he laughed and shook his head. "Americans."
"And what are you? A typical German?" she said as coldly as she could.
His eyes flashed in amusement. He was curious about her.
"What is a tourist doing working in an Irish pub?" he took a drag from his cigarette.
"Making money. I intend to stay here for a little while," she answered.
"Not an ordinary American, are you?" he asked.
"Do you say that because I'm Asian but I speak English so well?" she asked haughtily. Andy was used to subtle racism even back home.
"No," he said with a smile, "it's just that most expats tend to want to live in Britain or Italy, even."
Andy felt a little embarrassed for assuming, but was still irritated by him nonetheless. "I guess I should have went to live in Britain instead, considering my first experience with a German native was a rather rude one."
"Well, if I've been rude, let me make it up to you." He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a business card. "Call me. I would gladly take you out for coffee to discuss the complexities of my rudeness."
"I didn't know Germans had a sense of humor," she said, eyeing the business card but not taking it. "Besides, I don't have a phone yet."
"Well, when you get a phone, call me," he held out his card.
Andy hesitated before taking it.
"Thanks for the light," he said before turning around and walking back into the bar. Andy looked at the business card.
"Sebastian Berger," she read it out loud. "Also known as Mr. Asshole."