Chapter 4: Bar Scene
"Sometimes!"
Jim glanced up. He closed his eyes just in time as a stack of dirty plates crashed into the sink.
Blinking away greasy suds, Jim groped for a dish rag as fellow waitress, Tiana, fumed behind him. Her chocolate-colored cheeks were hotter than an oven and she blew like an angry kettle.
"Sometimes!" Tiana repeated, strangling her apron, "Sometimes I wish I could just mix a bowl of Tabasco and yellow mustard and pour it over the head of every single customer that walks through that door! Ohhhhhh Jim, let me tell you, Boy!"
Viciously, Tiana slapped down hamburger patties, "Let me tell you boy some people don't know the definition of good food! My Daddy is probably turning over in his grave! I slave away making a grilled lime-twist-chipolte burger masterpiece and the fool says 'come back when it's got some grease in it, Legs.' Legs? Puh—lease! This is a sports bar, not a stripper lounge!"
"Not far off." Jim said wryly.
"In your dreams," Tiana snapped, wrenching open the cooler and seizing a beer and rum. Slamming the door shut, she paused, listened, kicked the cooler, and nodded when it hummed back to life.
"Damn cooler's broke again."
"Ok, I'm on it."
"Oh no you're not!"
Jim swerved, juggling the two icy bottles Tiana thrust at him.
"There is no way I am going back out there!" Unknotting her apron, Tiana glared at the swinging doors, "I am paid to cook and clean: Not to bartender; not to entertain; and not to be pawed and leered at! So, when I say that I am not going back out there, I mean it! Do you understand me?"
Jim knelt for the apron. "I didn't argue."
"Well you're going to wish you had, let me tell you!" Tiana mumbled, dumping a bag of onion rings into the deep fryer. She grimaced as the oil sizzled. "After one look at the winners out there tonight."
Apathetically, Jim clinked together the glass bottles. "Who are these for?"
"Rum's for the creep by the door. He wants it neat; straight up and no rocks."
"Fine. The beer?"
Tiana paused. Her large caramel colored eyes lingered on the popping onion rings.
"Your best friend," she finally answered, shaking the wire basket. "So go serve him, if you want."
Jim starred at Tiana's back, her scorn still sharp in the air.
"Whatever," he muttered, gripping the bottles and turning darkly out the door.
A colorful raucous opened as the door swung close. The Benbow crawled with every horrible personality imaginable, but mostly seadogs mixed with thieves, outlaws, and crackpots. The usual crowd.
In the midst, Jim saw his mother. Empty pitchers and peanut bowls balanced over her head, Sarah Hawkins waded through the tables. Jim's eyes narrowed as she was received with crudities. He rectified the matter by splitting into the harasser's mug.
"Jim, I told you no waiting tonight! You have to go back to school tomorrow." Heavily, Sarah lowered the pitchers. "Where's Tia?"
Jim shrugged. "In the back. Cooking. Cleaning. She's got school too."
"Well, I'm not her mother." Fluidly, Sarah wiped the pitchers sparkling clean and refilled them to the brim with golden liquid. "No more tonight, Jim. Go upstairs."
"In a minute."
"James Pleiades Hawkins…"
Jim held up the bottles. "These orders are waiting."
Sarah opened her mouth. Her hands almost reached her hips before Jim said, "Mom…the beer's for George."
A chorus of cheers and whistles exploded by the sports screen as Sarah's face softened. Sighing deeply, she looped the pitcher handles between her fingers. "Those poor children. All right, one more order."
Jim turned but Sarah caught him with stern eyes, "But just one, Jim. Then up to bed."
Jim nodded. Unsatisfied, Sarah shook her head. Warily, she watched her son maze through the crowded bar before returning into the fray.
Waist-deep in drunks, Jim scanned the room. The straight-up rum was reclined by the door, his long, dramatic face flashing through a line of divas that had just entered. A scruffy red bird with a huge beak was yapping on his shoulder.
"About time, Scruffy!" barked the parrot as Jim set down the bottle. "Hey! Get back here! I ordered a mojito!"
"No shirt, no serve." Jim answered, distracted as he made for the owner of the second drink. Unaware that the pirate had smiled appreciatively over his rum, Jim slowly approached a middle aged man slumped over a back corner table.
"Hey. Hey…Mr. D? Mr. D?"
Drool oozed from the man's mouth as Jim prodded his shoulder. Frowning, Jim shook harder.
"Mr. Darling! Wake up."
"Ohhh…get off me…will ya…"
Mr. Darling's eyes opened unsteadily, reeling like spools of red thread. Swaying, the man grasped the edge of the table, blinking hard.
"Where am I what still here?"
Somberly, Jim nodded. "Yeah. At the Benbow."
"Uh…huh…Benbow…grashious…"
"Yeah." Shifting the bottle behind his hip, Jim knelt until he was eye level. Disgusted, Jim waited as Mr. Darling belched through his last four beers. Behind him, a high pitched voice called, "Waiter! Oh waiter!"
"Hold it." Jim muttered, reaching for Mr. Darling's hand. "Mr. D. It's me. Jim."
"…uh…huh…"
"Waiter! Helllllo?"
Jim squeezed the man's fingers. Staring intently into the bloodshot eyes, Jim spoke clearly, "Yes. Jim. Wendy's friend. Wendy. Your daughter."
Mr. Darling frowned, nose reddening.
"Um, waiter! We are waiting!"
Jim jostled Mr. Darling's wrist. "Mr. D. Go home. Mr. D? Can you hear me?"
The man flinched "Uh-huh…"
"Waiter!"
Mr. Darling's tongue slopped over his lips. Then without warning, his free hand darted from under the table and grabbed Jim's ear.
"Hey!"
Jim clenched the neck of the beer bottle as Mr. Darling gasped in his face, "Beer. Beer now Boy!"
Wincing against the pull of his earring, Jim rose, easing from Mr. Darling's grip. Unable to ignore the calling behind him any longer, Jim slammed the beer bottle onto the table.
"Open it yourself."
Jim turned, trying not to watch as Mr. Darling gnawed the beer cap. Unexpectedly, he came face to face with a dozen of the most glamorous girls he'd ever seen.
Sparkling from head to toe, Jim could tell instantly that these girls were related: each identical heart shaped face was set with a young forehead that tapered into a small, delicate chin. The girls had large, deliriously beautiful eyes, and pert little lips each smiling radiantly at him.
"Took you long enough, we only called a billion times."
Jim's eyebrow's lowered. Brats. He took a second look. Wealthy brats. What were they doing in the Benbow?
"Are you going to take our order or what, Deary?"
Glowering at the redhead who had spoken Jim fished out his pad and pencil.
"Ok, rude…" A brunette rolled her eyes to Jim's silence. Crossing her legs imperially, the girl leaned over the back of her chair, "Get us twelve sex on the beach cocktails."
The girls giggled. Jim felt like throwing up.
Then, the outspoken redhead flicked out a golden credit card. Eyes gleaming, she twirled a piece of hair between glossed lips, "And I'll take a sexy brown-haired, blue-eyed waiter on the beach…"
Uncontrollable giggles.
A number of thoughts crossed Jim's mind as he stared at the redhead. She stared back, toying playfully with the golden sequence net braided in her fiery hair and trying to drown Jim in huge, reflective eyes.
"We don't serve underage," Jim finally said, turning away, "And we don't accept fake IDs. Twelve waters."
The incredulous pause lasted half a second before the Little Mermaids giggled and hissed.
"Oh my God!" Cordelia rolled her eyes a second time, "Rude! What's up his ass?"
"Me by the end of tonight." said Lana.
Cordelia scowled as her sisters and cousins squealed. "Lana, he is so not your type."
"Why not?"
"Bad boy," she winked at Adella, "Obviously my type."
"Bee-otch!"
Alana and Coral shook their heads. Aquata rubbed table grease from her nails, "I think all bets are off on Mr. Right. He's not even that good looking."
"Maybe if you're a prude," said Maris.
"Speaking of which," Lana flicked her hair, "where's Ariel?"
Andrina raised an eyebrow at Lana. "By the television. Watching some track meet."
"She can't even be cool at a sports bar," mumbled Marina as the girls scanned the room, "She could at least be a real jock."
"Hey," Andina frowned. Down the room, Ariel was pointing to the screen and chatting with a large man who looked happy as a clam. "Lay off. She likes to watch that stuff."
"Well, as long as she stays on the swim team," Coral said, "I don't care if she watches chess."
Arista giggled. "No,no that would be Attina and…Daddy!"
"Nice one, Girl."
"No!" Squeaking like a mouse, Arista pointed to the doorway, "Daddy just walked in!"
Simultaneously, the girls turned.
And, there seating himself across an elegant pirate and red parrot was Admiral Triton.
