Under a neon sign for Miller beer with a NASCAR team, there is a giant, waist-high tub of ice. The dark glass necks of beer bottles poke out among the glittering cubes, looking sort of like a sea of messages in bottles, floating.
She holds her hands out like a game show hostess. “All right, this is your station, beer girl.”
“Yeah, this looks like the place,” I agree, finally feeling like I am getting my bearings.
“So, you have your Budweiser, Bud Light, Miller, Miller Light, Coors Light, and PBR over here. Then you got your twenty-ounce cans over here. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“When the bar gets busy, people will come over and ask you for whatever. If they ask for a shot or a mixed drink, you gotta send them to me. But if it is just beer, bottles are five bucks, cans are seven.”
“Okay. Got it.”
“There is a tip jar, but you’ll end up with a lot in your pockets too. That apron is gonna come in real handy.”
“Okay, understood,” I nod.
“Now, you stand over there,” she points, stepping aside.
Obediently I position myself behind the giant tub and lean on it. She takes a step back and squints at me, tipping her head to the side before finally breaking into a smile.
“You look good… Tammy!”
I smile back, shrugging innocently as I survey my new bounty of icy beers.
“The busboy will keep you stocked with ice and fresh bottles. So that’s it! Any questions?”
Shaking my head, I remind myself that it’s two hundred dollars. Two hundred easy dollars. And we are already underway. My dad always says there’s no point in changing horses midstream.
No problem. I can handle this horse.
“And what are you going to do?” I ask her as she begins to lean away.
She gestures over her shoulder. “Oh, I will be behind the bar. You know. Just the usual stuff. Serving up burgers and fries. Shots and shots and shots. Friday night at Sweeney’s. You know.”
I smile blandly.
She looks around for a few more seconds then finally shakes her head in theatrical frustration.
“Okay, there is one more thing,” she finally admits.
“One more thing?” I repeat sweetly. “Like what? What kind of thing?”
She rolls her eyes. “Stop playing so innocent,” she sniffs. “You have probably heard about the lingerie show, right? It’s really not a big deal. Everybody acts like it is a big deal but it is not a big deal.”
“Okay... Want to fill me in?”
She looks around distractedly. “Just about nine o’clock, the other bartenders and I just kind of circle the bar. We walk around. Guys tip us. The music gets really loud. Not a big deal.”
“Oh, you just circle the bar? Like this? Just walking around? For tips?”
She narrows her eyes at me. I smile back.
“Is this where the lingerie part comes in?” I continue, determined to drag the information out of her even if she doesn’t really want to tell me.
“Yeah, pretty much,” she admits.
“You circle the bar… in your underwear?”