Feeling This (3 page)

I make my way to the small, white Jetta
sitting in the drive way. It needs so much work not to mention four new tires,
maybe some time when there aren’t a million other things to pay for. I climb in
and caress the dashboard, silently praying that it gets me to and from work
tonight without any problems.

That wasn’t the case last Saturday night. I
had to hitch a ride with Derek, another bartender that I closed the bar with.
It wouldn’t have been so bad except for the fact that he has been trying to get
into my pants for the past year. He can’t take a hint which is completely
annoying. Don’t get me wrong, he’s not half bad, with shoulder length blonde
hair and big brown puppy dog eyes. He is rather tall and lanky, more on the
skinny side, not really my type. All that aside, I am just not attracted to the
guy. He thinks if he keeps at it, I’ll give in or something.  

A red light forces me to stop and the
engine starts sputtering.
Oh no, please no
, I need to work tonight. We
need the money. The light changes and my foot quickly finds the gas. The car
lurches forward almost seeming to consider whether it wants to go or not but it
hangs in there. Finally, I swing into the half-full parking lot. In an hour or
two it will be totally packed, this is the big hot spot on Friday, Saturday,
and Sunday nights. Tonight being Sunday, it will still be packed. Nobody in
this godforsaken town has anything else to do.

The double, wooden doors greet me in the
routine I repeat over and over six nights a week. Someday, I’ll have a degree
and be able to do something else. But until then this is my home away from
home.

My tired hands push the door inward and my
eyes adjust instantly to the dull lighting typical of any bar. My theory, the
ugly theory, if the lighting is low and the beer is flowing, they really don’t
see who they are going home with. If the lights were up to full brightness,
they would realize how ugly everything really gets as they drink more. Yes, I
must persist in making up stupid theories to keep myself going.

Becca runs up to me as soon as I settle
behind the bar, “Kimber, hey girl, guess what happened last night?”

Oh boy, I can only imagine, more like
who
happened last night. My ugly theory rings most true with Becca, I’ve seen it in
action. She is absolutely adorable with her five foot frame of about one
hundred pounds, small green eyes and long brown hair. But that’s the problem,
she sleeps with anyone that pays her a compliment.

“No Becca, no guessing, how about you just
tell.”

She laughs and comments snidely, “Guess you
didn’t sleep that well last night. Well I did, and not by myself.” See, I
called it, never by herself. I try to be the supportive friend and intervene in
her trysts but she doesn’t listen. I’m not sure I would listen to me either.

She stands there waiting for me to ask. I
sigh, “Okay, Becca, who is the lucky guy?”

She gushes, “It was Tyler and I think I’m
in love.”

I frown at her and look intently, “Really
because that’s what you said last week about, oh what was his name, oh yeah I
don’t remember because you say that every week, Becca, really?”

She shakes her head, “I don’t care what you
say Kimber, this is the one. Maybe you just need to get laid and your panties
wouldn’t be in such a tight wad.”

Okay so I give up, Project Becca
Intervention, total failure. I can’t get
my
life together, why in the
world should I try to help her?

“Sorry Becca, really I do hope this is the
one. But I’ll say what I say every time, be careful girl. There are some creeps
out there and I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

She smiles, suddenly back to her cheerful
self, “Do you want to hear about him?”

This is what is so funny about this girl. I
always warn her about being cautious, but she never seems to get hurt. I wonder
how she does it. If I knew the secret I wouldn’t still be reeling over the one
that got away as I like to genuinely call him.

“Spill it girl.” I check my watch and add,
“Make it fast, I have to get ready for the rush in an hour.”

***

An hour later just as I called it, we are
slammed. I can’t even focus on the mess that is my life for the sheer fact that
I am so busy. Unfortunately, I am stuck closing with Derek once again and every
time we pass each other behind the bar, he grabs my ass or whispers something
inappropriate in my ear. Isn’t that workplace sexual harassment or something? I
just ignore him. Past experience with him proves that the more attention I give
to my annoyance at him, the more encouraged he seems to get.
Idiot.

A band sets up on the makeshift stage and
begins playing. I can’t keep track of which band is which anymore. We seem to
have a different one each weekend, garage bands at their finest. Becca strolls
up and squeals to me as I make her drinks at the service bar, “Do you see him?
See the drummer, that’s Tyler.”

I ignore her, pretending like I didn’t hear
her but she persists,”Kimber, did you hear me, Tyler is up on stage, check him
out. He’s so sexy.”

Yeah okay, that is her dumb response about
every guy that passes through this place. I glance up to appease her and spot
the drummer. Typical, long haired, big and bulky, no shirt, ripped jeans,
probably in his late twenties with nowhere to go in life but here.
Oh boy,
who pissed in my drink tonight
? I put on my best smile and tell her, “Oh
Becca, nice.”

She nods and grabs her drinks but before
she turns, she quirks, “Hey, maybe I can set you up with one of the others. The
singer seems pretty cute.”

Oh God, really!
I glance over just so she’ll leave. The singer actually isn’t quite
bad. He scans the audience as he sings some catchy upbeat song I’ve never
heard. His gaze lands on mine and he winks. I quickly look away and catch Becca
staring at me, smiling.

“Shit Becca, you already said something to
him, didn’t you?

She giggles, “Guilty.” I roll my eyes and
turn away because if I don’t I’m liable to say something and hurt her feelings.

A high pitched whistle rings from the other
end of the bar distracting me from Becca. I turn ready to let someone have it.
I am not a dog at anyone’s beck and call. But I spot the culprit down at the
corner where the L turns to meet the wall closing the bar off from patrons. A
wide smile spreads over my lips at the sight. I nod at her finishing the drinks
I’m making for the customers in front of me. A few minutes later I’m hugging my
big sister, Jenna, over the bar. She is true to form, short black bob, nose
pierced and tattoos sporadically placed on her arms and shoulders. Her sheer
pink tank showcases a black bra underneath and a regular customer next to her
is looking up at her shirt with googly eyes.

“Hey girl, where have you been?” I already
know the answer to this. She can’t stand to stay in one place. She reminds me
every time she comes to visit that I would do the same if I were smart.

She smirks, “Can’t a girl get a beer around
here?”

I trek back down to the tap and pour a mug.
Derek leans in, too close for my comfort, I can smell cigarettes on his breath.
“Hey, is that your sister? Can you hook a brother up?”

I back up and laugh it off, “Uh, no! And
when did you become a brother?”

I turn on my heel having no patience for
him tonight. My sister is concentrating on her phone, as I place her mug down
in front of her.

 “Hey, my car’s not doing too hot, I might
need to catch a ride home,” I confide.

She looks up from her phone suddenly
interested in what I’ve said, “No, Kimber, you know I can’t go there.” Her face
first registers fear, then sorrow. I knew she wouldn’t want to help but my
other choice is Derek, definitely not, or Becca, yeah, no again.

“Okay sis, just stick around, please, just
in case my car doesn’t start.” She ignores me, her attention diverted to the
phone again. I’m not even going to ask why she’s home. She strolls back through
town sometimes. I like to think it’s to check up on me and make sure I’m
surviving but I’m not completely convinced.

I make my way down the bar to help Derek
out and I notice he is staring at Jenna. He seems enamored with her. His attention
is diverted from me for once.
Great
, let my sister be the focus for once
with this guy.

The night speeds by which makes it that
much sooner I will be able to collapse into my bed. Around midnight, the owner
of this fine establishment, Jared Duck, yes his last name is actually Duck, makes
his nightly appearance. He is short and round with a red and grey goatee.
Tonight he’s in typical form with a black cowboy hat and a chambray button down
stretched so tight that the buttons are straining against the material. He
usually stays holed up in his back office until the crowd thins out. Twelve is a
little early for him. He strolls down the outside of the bar and through the
tables greeting regulars and schmoozing new customers. Once he makes it to the
end where my sister is deep in conversation with the dude who was thinking
about trying to cop a feel earlier, I hear her call out to him, “Jared, how
about letting Kimber sing tonight.”

He turns and a creepy smile, usually
reserved for the ladies, crosses his face. I silently curse her. This is my
rent and food ticket and eventually my way out of here. If she jeopardizes my
job, I’ll kill her. Jared strolls over casually and places his arm around the
bar stool she’s sitting in.

“And why should I do that.” His voice is
definitely the one he reserves for the ladies. I am not going to stand by and
let this old goat hit on Jenna. But before I can make it down there, Derek
places his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

I hiss at him, “Derek, come on, I’m not in
the mood.”

He lowers his face closer to mine and
softly tells me, “Just let her talk to him. Trust me, I won’t let anything
happen to your sister.” Something about his tone strikes me as odd. This is not
the usual playful and carefree Derek. I turn and watch as my sister flirts away
laughing with Jared as if they just shared a joke.

After about ten minutes of stewing while
serving customers, I look up and watch as Jenna and Derek exchange a look and a
nod. What? When did this happen. Just an hour ago he was asking me to hook him
up and now there’s an inside joke I’m not a part of, I’m stewing even more.

Around one o’clock with only an hour left,
the band is breaking and Jared makes his way up to the stage. I’m still pissed
that my sister would flirt with my creepy boss. He’s like fifteen years older
than her, at least. I’m rinsing mugs out and placing them in the tray to be
washed when I hear his deep voice call me up to the stage. My hands fumble,
causing a mug to slip. It shatters into the sink.
Shit!
Derek comes up
beside me and tells me, “Don’t worry about it, go on.”

I look up at the stage frowning but my face
quickly changes when I see my sister sitting up on a stool center stage with my
guitar. How’d she get that? As if reading my mind she holds up my keys and nods
behind me. I turn and Derek is grinning ear to ear.

Glaring at Derek I mutter, “Traitor,” and
make my way up to the stage.

Jenna hands me the guitar and whispers,
“Knock ‘em dead,” before stepping down.

I scan the crowd and push my nerves away.
This is my element, music, everything I do has an anthem attached in my mind.
The performing in front of a crowd, well not that. That part is totally out of
my comfort zone. I feel my stomach turn over at that prospect so I close my
eyes and focus on strumming the chords as beautiful music fills the room. I
open my eyes for a minute to find the microphone and quickly close them as my
nerves rise again. My voice doesn’t betray me though. I choose a tune I wrote
called,
Making Me Love You.

“Daylight and my mind wanders, always,
wanders.

Nighttime and it still roams, always, roams.

You, you’re making me love you, making me love
you, making me love you.

What can I do when it’s you? All day and night,
you.

I don’t want it but it’s you making me love
you.

You, you’re making me love you, making me love
you, making me love you.

No matter the time always loving you, always
loving you.”

As I play the last note and sing the last verse,
I open my eyes and the audience still occupying the chairs and barstools are
clapping and whistling. I smile savoring the moment. Jared steps up to the
stage and takes the mic as I step away.

“Let’s give our very own, Kimber Maguire, a
round of applause.”

Everyone claps again. It warms my heart
that my sister did this for me. The little things mean the most.

Jenna meets up with me as I place my guitar
behind the bar and start to serve more customers.

“Hey Kimber, was that good or what? You are
such a natural.” I smile suddenly at a loss for words. This never happens to
me.

A smooth voice comes up behind her and
agrees, “I was definitely taken by surprise. You’re really talented.” And my
mood is suddenly killed.
Ugh
, Becca, I’m gonna wring your neck. The
singer from the garage band I don’t even know the name of, is flirting with me.