her maneuver the room. And the watching gave me a whole new reality into those that had simply served me for so many years. How they explained and talked to their customers compared to the way they talked to co-workers, how they were always under the gun to deliver the meals on time and exactly to the customer's expectations.
And, worst of all, they were the ones that took the brunt of the customer's complaints whether or not they were the one's responsible for the customer's dissatisfaction.
Huge revelation, that.
And that, Ladies and Gentlemen, was the last coherent part of my evening.
By my recollection, I was simply going through the drinks menu one at a time.
But, sadly, found out that I only actually sampled three different drinks before I found myself riding next to Dex.
In a car.
Next. To. Dex .
Holy shit.
*.*.*.*.*
It was a Monday night and things were slow enough at HH that Dex could excuse himself and leave the shop in the capable hands of Benny.
Benny was a good guy that he'd met in his travels after his melt down and had taught him just about everything he knew about ink. But Ben had also been there when he practiced. And practiced. And practiced some more. According to Ben, you'd better get your shit down before you actually applied a needle to another human being.
Good advice.
The talk from Ben, while unwelcome at the time, made more sense than anything else in his life, so he went with it.
And he was glad he did.
HH was turning a profit.
Which was huge.
Meant he didn't have to babysit anymore or look over the other inkers shoulders as they worked and didn't have to do even half the office shit that was more of a pain in his ass than he let people know.
Which is why he was able, on a Tuesday night, sit at his normal stool at Henry's trading barbs with Dirk.
Dex was on his second beer when he heard a soft sentence of cussing from Dirk.
"I'd give it a nine outta ten Dude, but you repeated yourself," Dex said to Dirk.
"You'd be cussing, too, hombre, if you had to put the skids on that," and Dirk's head pointed across the bar to the gorgeous young woman who was having a very animated conversation with Gloria, one of the waitresses.
"I'm calling her a cab," Dirk said as he reached for the phone.
"I'll take her," Dex said much to his own surprise.
"What?" Dirk asked his finger still poised above the numbers of the phone.
"I'll make sure she gets home all right, okay?"
"You're sure, hombre?"
"More than sure," Dex reached into his back pocket to pull out his money clip and threw a couple of twenties on the bar. "That gonna cover it for her and me?"
Dex got a chin lift from Dirk but watched as his old friend turned his back on the customer he had formerly been complaining about.
Dex moved around the bar and stopped right in front of the brown haired beauty that was tugging on the edges of his memory. He knew her somehow, someway but he just wasn't quite sure of the way. Or the how.
"Hi," he said. "Name's Dex."
He watched as she slowly dragged her big chocolate gaze to his.
"Is that how you all introduce yourselves?" She said, slurring only a little while keeping her left eye closed.
Was she winking at him?
"Am taking you home, babe," he said as he gathered up her cell and the other items of hers that were scattered across the bar and shoved them into her messenger bag.
Even the bag pulled at his memory.
"Dex!" he heard her exclaim as she slowly shook her head. "The man that took my heart, but gave me a tattoo. Let's all drink to Dex!"
"Okay, honey, let's get you in the car so we can get you home, 'kay?
"But we gotta drink to Dex," she whined. "He'sh the bes' of the bescht. Gorgeoush, schmart, an' an artischt. Look, err, jush, look at what he done, 'scuse, did to me!" and he snagged her around her waist as she appeared to be trying to take off her jeans.
"Let's go this way, 'kay?"
"Shure, no problems. I'm with my Dex, raight?" He heard her