Free Business as Usual (Off The Subject) by Denise Grover Swank

plain bob and there’s little to no makeup on her face. She’s exactly the kind of woman Sabrina always made fun of toward the end of our relationship. Sure, she never insulted the women to their faces—at least not when I was around—but the victims always knew. I decide I want this woman to feel good about herself before she leaves tonight. I don’t even give a fuck about the tips.
    When the woman sees that I’m skirting around the group toward her, she turns bright red and tries to look away. I pull up a chair next to her. “What’s your name?”
    Her mouth opens and closes like a fish tossed onto a creek bank.
    “Sophie,” the friend standing next to her volunteers with a giggle.
    “Hey, Sophie. I’m Ben. I don’t think I’ve seen you in here before.”
    Her lips part again and she finally says, “That’s because I’ve never been here before.”
    “Well, that has definitely been my loss.” I stand and push the chair under the table. “Ladies, as you may have heard me tell Sophie, I’m Ben and I’m going to take care of you tonight.”
    They shriek and I wait for a couple of them to make their obligatory they know how they’d like me to take care of them remarks.
    I tilt my head and give them a pretend stern look. “Now, now ladies . The night is young. Plenty of time for that.” I shift my weight. “I’m ready to take your drink orders if you know what you want, but I need to check all y’all’s IDs first.”
    The women are all in their late twenties and early thirties, but if I’ve learned one thing from this job it’s that women close to twenty-one hate it when they’re carded and women over thirty love it.
    They all show me their IDs, and I take particular time with Sophie’s. I get their orders and slide back behind the bar. Brittany, who’s been watching the show, glares at me.
    “Don’t fuck with that girl, Masterson.”
    It takes me a moment to get what she’s saying. My anger surges. “You think I’m fucking with her? What kind of asshole do you take me for?”
    “An asshole who’ll do anything to win a bet.”
    I shake my head in disgust. “Then I guess you really don’t know me.” But whose fault is that? I’ve been so angry these past few months that I’ve made playing the dick card an art. It’s no surprise that she’d think the worst of me. Her eyes fill with guilt when she hears the force behind my words. I lean closer and lower my voice. “I’m not fucking with her, okay? She’s the kind of girl that Sabrina used to trash. I don’t know why I want to be nice to her. I just do.”
    “Sorry,” she says. “I can be a real jerk sometimes.”
    Although Britt knows about the rape charges and my bitterness toward Sabrina, I’ve told her very little about our relationship, other than she was a first-class bitch even before the false accusation. I grin. “No shit.”
    She flashes me a smile in return before getting serious again. “But be careful with that girl, Ben. If you’re too nice to her, she’s not going to understand when you don’t ask her out. I think it’s sweet that you want to help build her self-esteem, but be careful.”
    Sensing the truth in her words, I nod.
    Her smile returns. “And don’t worry. I won’t tarnish your rep as a dickhead by letting people know that you actually have a soul.”
    I roll my eyes.
    “So we good?” she asks, her eyebrows raised.
    “Of course.”
    I put in the group’s order for appetizers and make their drinks. I’m about to take their order to the table when the door opens and a group of people walks in the door, laughing and talking loudly.
    Brittany looks up as she’s pouring a draft beer.
    I recognize this group immediately. They’re the theater kids who came in the night before. They stuck together while they were here, tipped well. But I’m kidding myself by pretending I’m not looking for one of their number in particular. I haven’t seen her yet.
    My eyes are on the door as I put the drinks