Free For You by Mimi Strong Page A

around dinner time, Sawyer came in, smiling and looking around like he'd had a great day, and wasn't it a great day? Everybody was having a great day.
    He didn't go to his table, but hung around the bar, chatting with Bruce and watching me and Lana work.
    “Hey Aubrey, I know what I need to do,” he said, leaning over the bar to see what we were doing with the blender, which was none of his business.
    “Good for you.”
    “I've been inspired, and I just spent the last three hours painting over a big block of that art commission. You could say I've found my muse.”
    “Good.”
    “Is that a smile?”
    I put down the fruit I was chopping and stepped back, patting my face gingerly with both hands. “I don't know, is it?”
    The music was really loud, washing away all my thoughts. I wasn't smiling, but I felt like I was.
    “When are you off work?”
    I glanced down at the pineapple. “When all the booze is gone.”
    “Are you planning to drink it all yourself?” He gave me a concerned look, his moss-green eyes as cute as ever.
    Lana had encouraged me that evening. It was Thursday night, which meant “staff piss-up” (her words, not mine.) She made us her fruity invention with the blender. It tasted better than Diet Coke and went down easy. Too easy. And then there'd been a few more drinks. Anything to get the memory of the nightmare of that day's grocery shopping horror out of my head. Now there was one grocery store in my neighborhood I couldn't show my face in. What had come over me? So what if the cashier had been stupid and rude, why did I run?
    I didn't understand my behavior, but a few shots of gin made it seem almost funny. Imagine. That stupid store manager wanting to search my purse. Me yelling and accusing him of wanting to touch me. If he'd searched my purse, he would have found suckers and granola bars, plus a crappy old cell phone that wouldn't hold a charge. I probably could have pitched a fit and gotten some store credit to smooth over the indignity.
    Instead, I snuck in like a thief and retrieved my little cart, ashamed and terrified they'd see me, even though I'd done nothing wrong.
    Whatever. People did weird things every day. People were fucking weird.
    “Hey.” Sawyer waved his hand in front of my face. “Have you eaten anything today?”
    “You mean food?”
    “Yes. Food. When are you off?”
    I waved my hands emphatically. “No idea.”
    From out of nowhere, Uncle Bruce appeared at my side. “Aubrey, you can probably knock off a bit early.”
    “No.”
    “It's only a few hours early,” he said. “I take full responsibility for your inebriated state. Lana is a menace with the blender. It's all her fault.” He shook his head and glared playfully in her direction. “I would fire the woman if she wasn't so damn popular with my regulars.”
    We all looked over at Lana, who was giggling and shaking her hips in rhythm with the music as she filled up beer glasses for some very appreciative men. She tossed her crazy purple hair from side to side like she was a wood nymph and this dark bar was her forest home.
    “I'm not really in the mood for beer,” Sawyer said. “What do you say we go get some burgers? I know a great place. Steak burgers, no filler.”
    “No filler? But I love filler. It's the best part.”
    “You don't know what you're talking about, do you?”
    I shrugged. “You don't have to be crazy to work here, but it helps.”
    Bruce said, “Hey now.”
    Sawyer was already moving back toward the door, so I grabbed my things and followed him in a daze. I didn't like Bruce cutting my hours, because I needed the money, but I had a feeling that when he'd hired me, he hadn't actually needed another server. Most of my part-time shifts were weekdays, and never the closing shift. That way I could still get up to get Bell ready in the morning for school without too much pain, though there was always some pain, since I never was a morning person.
    The sunshine outside the bar was