Cassidy winced inwardly at the mention of her recent depressive collapse. “That’s a terrible way to refer to it,” she accused.
Darlene ignored her. “A conspiracy theorist would conclude you two were off canoodling somewhere.”
Cassidy tossed her a look of mock horror before she plastered on an automatic smile for the gentleman with the gin and tonic, returning his change to him. He pushed back a dollar and walked away. Another patron immediately replaced him and ordered a bucket of beer, rattling off the varieties.
Darlene handed her the silver bucket, ignoring the other people attempting to get her attention so they could order. She waved them off with a hand, focused on Cassidy.
“We were not canoodling. Who uses that term, anyway?” She scooped ice into the pail. “I was in literal darkness. I couldn’t even get off the couch. Canoodling, even with him, would have been preferable.”
Darlene smiled slyly. “Especiallywith him, I’d say.”
“Darlene, what is your point?” she demanded, shoving beer bottles into the bucket. “And can you help out with the damn drink orders, or are you just going to stand there?”
“You want to fuck him,” Darlene challenged.
Cassidy paused as a few people around them heard her and laughed. Someone called out, “I’ll fuck ya, doll!” This caused more laughter, other offers, and agreement.
Looking in the general area of the offer, Cassidy raised her left hand, calling back, “Married.” Her announcement was met with groans.
Darlene countered, “Widowed.”
“I’m going to be a widow before we’re served,” someone complained.
“Quiet in the gallery!” Darlene snapped her fingers at them.
“I want my freaking drink,” a twenty-something woman shouted.
“You’re after me, babe,” said a college-aged boy. “I’ve been waiting longer.”
“Too bad for you,” Darlene said to the college kid. She pointed at the surly woman and said, “This lady has prettier tits.”
The college boy turned to examine the tits in question, and the woman playfully grabbed her breasts and shoved them upward.
Cassidy practically threw the bucket of beer at the man who’d ordered it, snatching his cash away from him.
Darlene met her at the register. “You didn’t deny it.”
“I didn’t get the chance before everyone decided to weigh in, and you got into a fight with a frat boy,” Cassidy pointed out. She glanced in the mirror at the now-sulking kid, who still didn’t have a drink. “He’s your customer, by the way. At least for now.”
Darlene lifted her hand over her head and pointed at herself. “Monopoly. Where else is he going to go for bitches, beer, and dancing?”
Cassidy sighed. “Can we table the sex discussion for later? And please remember Elijah in all of this. I’m not looking for anything.”
Darlene shot her a pitying glance. “Baby girl, we’re all looking for something.”
Slamming the drawer shut, she faced Darlene and said forcefully, “I’m not. I’ll leave him to you.”
Darlene’s painted brow rose. But she honored her request and tabled the conversation. The place was busy, after all. They barely kept up with the bar demands while Jemma ran orders from the floor. Darlene and Cassidy took turns acting as a bar back. Andy was in heaven with the never-ending orders of fried foods.
Toward eleven, the pace calmed. By midnight, people had hit their peak of drunkenness and were on their way down, ready for home. Dar assessed their worthiness for returning keys or calling in the DDs. The lake was patrolled at night for drunk drivers, so most tried to head out before they were too far gone if they’d boated in.
By one in the morning, it was slow enough for Jemma to call it a night. She’d cleaned the tables and removed the empties from the beer garden. A couple of die-hards remained. Darlene would have to kick them out, but otherwise, it would be a quiet two am last call and close.
Darlene pulled out a glass and started to make herself a gin and tonic. She made a face of invitation to Cassidy, who nodded; Darlene made two and threw in a couple of limes. She slid one over to Cassidy. “No-show.”
“What show?” Cassidy asked, not following.
“No Mac tonight.” She paused and looked skyward, asking, “Was that a song? There’s a song about Mac tonight.”