The Song of David(13)

“Nah. I understand. I don’t drink either.”

Her brows rose doubtfully. “But you work in a bar.”

“I don’t drink because I’ve never been able to figure out how to do things in moderation. See, I don’t drink. I get drunk. I’m all or nothing, all the time. Can’t do all, so I gotta do nothing,” I said conversationally, wondering at my need to reassure her. “You want something else? A soda, water, something non-alcoholic?” I changed the subject smoothly.

“I’d love a Diet Coke.”

I hopped to it and within seconds set the drink on a coaster in front of her. “Diet coke at twelve o’clock.”

She smiled at my instructions and thanked me, then eased her hand forward carefully, letting her fingers brush the cool glass, tiptoeing around it until she could grasp it and pull it toward her. She leaned over it, almost like she was smelling it, and I watched as she held her face, oddly suspended, over her drink, her nose so close to the fizzy liquid it would be submerged if she moved another inch.

“Is there a problem?” I asked.

She sat up and rubbed her nose with her right hand, still grasping the drink with her left. “No! I, um, I like the way it sounds and the way the bubbles feel against my face. I didn’t realize you were still watching me.” There was a little steel in her voice, letting me know that staring wasn’t appreciated.

“I’ll just be moving along then.” I grinned, liking the bit of sass she threw back at me.

“Um, David,” her voice rose, “I actually just came to get my check. Could you get that for me?”

“Absolutely. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you. I won’t be watching if you want to enjoy the bubbles a little longer.”

The checks were in a lockbox beneath the bar, and it took me a few minutes to locate the spare key from Morg’s office. Morgan had taken his set of keys when he walked out. I swore, thinking of the complications—like re-keying the whole damn place—that would arise if Morg decided his pride was more important than his job. I really hoped the man came back contrite in the morning. I really didn’t want to find a new manager, and Morg did a good job when he wasn’t being an ass.

When I slid the check labeled with her name across the counter, brushing the hand not gripping her drink so she knew it was there, she grabbed at it and then handed it back.

“Could you open it please and read me the total? I’ll be able to deposit it at the ATM on the corner if I know the amount.”

When I tore it open and looked at the amount I was stunned. I read the numbers back to her almost sheepishly, and she sighed.

“Morgan told me I would be making minimum wage until my probation period was over. Do you know when that ends?”

I felt the heat of outrage roil in my gut, but squelched it for her sake. I had to play along, not to protect Morg, but to protect her feelings. There was no probation period. Morgan had been playing games. Amelie had been hired as a joke, and a cheap joke, at that. But I couldn’t tell her that.

“It’s up. You’ll be making the same as all the other dancers, and you’ll receive the full amount you would have made in the first two weeks, minus the amount of this check.”

“Really? That’s great! Morgan didn’t tell me that part.”

I grimaced. Morgan was the one who was going to be on probation.

She repeated the total of the check, a slight question in her voice, and I read the numbers back once more.

“Got it. I’m going to go deposit it. What do I owe you for the drink?”

“Employee perk. No charge for Diet Cokes. Or bubbles.” She smiled widely and I smiled back, her pleasure making it impossible not to, whether or not she could see my response.

She slid carefully from the stool and snapped her stick out, heading for the door, her check tucked in her broad coat pocket.

“Do you need any help? You want me to send someone with you?”

She shook her head without looking back. “Touch screens are obnoxious. I can’t feel a touch screen. But the ATM on the corner has braille on the keypad, thank God! If the world is too flat, people like me will slide right off.” She said this cheerfully, with humor, and I shook my head in amazement as she pushed out the front door into the darkness, the door swinging closed behind her, the night swallowing her up.

I fought the urge to follow her, to make sure she wasn’t mugged at the ATM, her paltry check stolen, her stick used against her. The world was a scary place for most people. For Amelie, it was downright lethal. She was completely vulnerable. If the world is too flat, people like me will slide right off.