O'Reilly's
Georgetown
1932 PM

I throw open the painted glass door, a smile immediately creeping to my face. No matter what kind of day I've had, I know once I get behind that bar and slip on that green apron, all the problems just slip away like the condensation of the drinks I pour.

Don't you just love English majors?

A cheer rises up in the bar at my arrival, and I just shake my head, lifting up the bar panel and slipping under. I dump my backpack and jacket behind the alcohol stash and pull my apron over my head. Haphazardly tying my quintessential Irish red hair in a messy bun, I wash my hands and belly up to the backside of the bar, dropping a few kisses on my favorite regulars' cheeks.

I immediately strike up a conversation with three different people until I feel a large, steady hand at the small of my back. I crane my neck up and my uncle Shaun kisses my cheek. "Hey, lassie."

"Hey, lad. You off?" I ask, itching my freckled nose with my sleeve.

He nods, handing me the key to the cash drawer and the credit tallies for the different groups in the bar. It's crowded for a Thursday night, until I realize it's graduate finals for both Georgetown and George Washington. I wave Uncle Shaun off, ordering him home to bed, and turn my attention back to my bar customers.

The door chimes once again, announcing another patron. Half the bar looks up, myself included, and not recognizing the man, they go back to their games of pool or darts or just their beers. He walks up to the bar, and I can immediately sense an air of sadness and rejection about him. He sits on an empty barstool right in front of me. I slap down a coaster in front of him, drying my hands on the bottom of my apron. "What'll it be?" I ask quietly.

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "What kind of mixed drinks do you have?"

I shrug and hand him our mixed drink list. "What do you want?"

He examines the menu and finally sets it down. "I'll try a Mudslide."

I nod and set about making the drink, watching him carefully out of the corner of my eye. He takes off his trench coat, revealing a Navy uniform. I furrow my brow; either my eyes are going or my memory is, because that Navy uniform doesn't look anything like the ones I see running around campus. He has a distinctive profile, his nose and chin jetting out. His eyes are wide but tired, and he keeps running a hand through his hair, causing a stray lock to dangle precariously over his forehead.

Jack, a fellow bartender, comes up behind me to get a beer. He motions silently to the guy. "Ten bucks says he just got fired."

I shake my head. "Ten bucks says he just got rejected."

His blue eyes sparkle and he nods, accepting the challenge. I finish mixing the drink and carefully pour it out, setting it in front of the man, who is twiddling something between his fingers.

I lean back and ask, "Do you want me to start a tab?"

He shakes his head. "It'll just be this one. I needed to think."

I nod, realizing he has an Australian accent. That's why I didn't recognize the uniform. But Australian or American, something is eating this guy, and as a bartender, it is my sworn duty to hear out any and all problems of my patrons. I may not be a psychology major at American, but I've been in O'Reilly's my entire life; hell, O'Reilly's *is* my entire life. I give myself a mental shake and return my attentions to the Australian Navy dude, taking a minute to pause and wave to the Michaels family; what a cute bunch they are.

I look back at the man, who is still intent on whatever his fingers are playing with. "Um, that'll be $3.25, sir," I say, hating to break him out of his reverie but also dying to know what the hell he's thinking about.

He looks up at me, blinking a few times and then pulls out his wallet, slapping a five on the counter. "Keep the change, Ms…"

"Keely. My name's Keely. Just holler if you need anything, okay?"

He nods. "Thank you, Keely."

I smile and turn back to finish the growing pile of beer mugs; this is the bad part about coming to work so late. I finish a few before I hear a throat being cleared and the Australian guy saying, "Keely?"

I turn around, grabbing a green and white checkered towel to dry my hands. "Can I get you something else?"

He nods. "Can I have a few minutes of your time?"

I nearly laugh at his politeness; most guys that come to this bar just start spilling their guts to me, figuratively and literally. I nod and hold up one finger, telling him to wait just a second, and drag my pile of dishes to be dried in front of him. "Go ahead," I finally say, pulling up my own stool and beginning to dry.

He drops a beautiful diamond solitaire on the countertop, and as a result, I nearly drop the mug I was drying. "Wow," I say. "Who's the lucky girl?"

He chuckles sardonically. "You want it?"

I look at him, my green eyes widening. "She said no?"

He nodded, sighing and shaking his now settled drink up. "I never had a chance with her, you know."

"Why's that?" I ask, picking up another mug.

"She's in love with someone else," he says, moving the ring around the countertop with his finger.

"That's too bad."

"It took her two months to figure it out when I knew it all along."

I look at him, confused. "If you knew, why'd you ask her?"

He sighs loudly, his lips pursing. "I thought maybe I could change her mind."

I cluck my tongue and shake my head. "You can't fool love, no matter how hard you try."

He chuckles and nods slightly, sighing again, his gaze not moving from the ring. "She slapped me the second time we met."

I can't control the small huff of laughter that escapes me. I look sheepishly down at the bar. "Sorry," I say quietly.

He chuckles too, looking up at me with sorrowful eyes. "No, it's okay. Sometimes you get blinded."

I nod emphatically. "Yeah, you do."

He continues to look at me, and I start to feel a little unnerved at his unwavering gaze. "Have you ever been blinded by love?"

I nod. "Who hasn't?"

He nods again, returning his attentions to his glass. "I flew in from Sydney to surprise her. Went to her work and shocked the bloody hell out of her…but it was there in her eyes. Her partner—that's the sot she's in love with—walked in and I saw the way she looked at him…like her hand had been caught in the cookie jar. I just knew. So after he left, I looked at her, and she cocked her head and said like she does 'Mic'…and I just smiled. Then she gave me the ring back and I walked out."

I shake my head. "I'm so sorry."

He shrugs. "My head's telling me it's better this way…"

I wave a hand at him, cutting him off. "Who cares what your head says? It's your heart that matters."

He smiles and sighs again. He pockets the ring and looks up at me, gathering his coat. "Well, I need to get back to Sydney. Thanks."

I shrug, taking his glass. "Hey, that's what O'Reilly's is all about…mudslides and a sympathetic ear."

He smiles briefly, turning on his heel and walking out with military briskness.

Jack comes up behind me. "So who won?"

I turn and hold my palm out to him. "Pay up, doofus."

He grins and shakes his head, muttering, "Later." The door dings again and I turn, seeing two more military types—oh, God, they're breeding!—who take over the Australian's seat and the one his coat was occupying.

I place two coasters in front of them as the guy, dressed in a uniform I actually recognize, helps the woman, stunning in Marine Green, off with her coat. "Hi, I'm Keely…what can I get you?"

He looks at her. "Mac?"

She smiles beatifically at him, and I immediately notice the warmth in her gaze towards him. "Tonic water with a twist of lime, please."

He looks at me. "I'll have a Guinness."

I nod and head off to fill their order. Jack comes up again, nodding towards the couple. "Ten bucks says they're doing it."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Ten bucks says they're madly in love."

He holds out his hand, which I shake boldly.

I take the drinks over to them and smile. Jack owes me $20.

End Ch. 1