bri !

The San Diego breeze flew through the open patio door of the Hard Deck. It was a cool set off to even out the California summer heat. With the bar’s AC fighting to stay alive, it was much appreciated. 

“Slow night?” You asked Penny as you stepped behind the bar, tossing your bag next to the cash register. You grabbed your apron and secured it around your waist as Penny maneuvered around you, preparing drinks for some customers.

“For now,” she replied, “but it’s only 5, you know how it is.”

You’ve been working with Penny at the Hard Deck since she bought the place. As much as you enjoyed working with her, this wasn’t a permanent position. Penny was generous enough to put you through the work so you could pay for college in order to pursue your major. Your work schedule wasn’t too draining either, you had the leeway to choose your own shifts. Because of this, during the school year you were able to pick up shifts whenever possible. Lucky for Penny, it was the summer so she had your help daily.

You watched as some Navy sailors trickled in wearing their service khakis. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, the bar was the unofficial official stomping grounds for pilots. Hence, the name. In fact, both you and Penny came from Navy lineage. Penny being the daughter of late Admiral Benjamin. Your father did not rise in the ranks nearly as much, but still gave you the military brat lifestyle. Being raised on base, it was no surprise you’d find familiarity in the bar.

As you delivered a drink to a customer, you caught sight of a man at the other end of the bar flagging you down. You quickly took the money on the counter before you made your way to him.

“Hey there, sweetheart.” The man was a regular, so you didn’t mind the nickname. If you were nice enough to him, he tipped real well.

“How are you doing, Hangman.” You flashed him and his friend standing next to him a quick smile. “Coyote.” Very rarely did you call your pilot patrons by their real names, often opting for their call signs instead. “So, what will you two be having today?”

“I was hoping for you, but I know you’re not on the menu.” Hangman flirted with his signature smirk.

You laughed. “I’ll let you know the moment I am.” You were used to customers, including him, flirting with you. You had a pretty face and you knew how to use it. It’s part of the reason Penny hired you, brought in good business. And you could handle a couple hours of being hit on by sloppy drunks if it meant you could make your rent and student loans.

They gave you their orders and you jogged back to the bar to grab them. Looking over at Penny, you noticed her talking to a guy her age wearing an older leather jacket adorned with military patches. While she was friendly to most of her customers, this one was different. She leaned over the counter to talk to him and abandoned the wine glass she was cleaning. Eyeing his wrist, you saw the familiar name etched into his skin, ‘Penny Benjamin.’ Your eyes widened at the sight. This must be Pete Mitchell. Penny had the matching soulmate mark on her wrist. 

You remembered the conversation you had with Penny around the time you started working at the bar. You had seen her soulmate mark in the iridescent color instead of the normal black, which indicated that she had found him. You had assumed it was Amelia’s dad considering he was no longer in the picture, but Amelia had her father’s last name, and it wasn’t Mitchell. Questioning her about it, all she said was that they met when she was younger but he wasn’t ready. Of course, you regretted asking as soon as you did. 

You quickly eyed the name on your own wrist, sighing at the dull black color it stayed.  You envied everyone who found their soulmates and stuck with them. The thought of being with someone who was completely meant for you is a dream. Considering you work at a bar, it shouldn’t have been hard to find your soulmate, right? People come in and out all the time. But you knew it was wishful thinking. Sometimes you wondered if your soulmate was even real. I mean, what kind of name is ‘Bradley Bradshaw’? 

After handing Hangman and Coyote their drinks, you made your way back behind the bar with Penny to treat the customers sitting there. You had your usuals of course; the same men every week who would come in to drink and engage in small talk. You knew that they probably also liked to look at the two of you, which came along with the job. Most of the guys knew what the boundaries were though. They knew you’d flirt and talk to them just to get a nice tip out of them. You also knew that all of that worked well.

Before you knew it, you heard The Bell ring. You looked at Penny with a raised eyebrow but she just stared down with a smirk at the (supposed) Pete Mitchell. He didn’t look like he would disrespect a woman or the Navy so you weren’t surprised to see his phone laying on the counter. You chuckled at the exchange and got back to work.

As the night got livelier with promises of a free round, you and Penny rushed about behind the bar; taking orders, making drinks, and most importantly; sweet talking your way into more tips. It was an easy job with a crowd like this. Most of the patrons that made up the Navy crowd were men afraid of commitment, making it easier to flirt your way up to bigger tips. 

With a glance to the door, you feel your heart jolt straight out of your chest. Walking in like he owns the place was the prettiest man you’ve seen in your life. He wore civvies, a faded old Hawaiian shirt over a wife beater, but you knew without a doubt that he belonged to the group of military that huddled near the billiards. You observed the pride in the way he held himself that could only scream Navy. Or maybe it was the 80s pornstache he had on. No civilian would wear that so confidently. 

Penny walked up behind you without you noticing, “He looks like your type.” 

Out of shock you spluttered, “What- what do- what do you mean?” It came out a lot more panicked than you wanted it to. 

“Don’t know,” Penny’s eyes widened as she looked past your shoulder. “Maybe you’ll find out because he’s on his way over.”

”Shit, already?” You panicked a bit, but when you turned around and saw him walk over you tried to muster up some fake confidence. “Hi! What can I get for you?”

The mustache man raised an eyebrow at how fake your greeting was. He chose to ignore it, though, “Right now, just a Moscow Mule. But maybe your number later.” He winked at you.

“Real original, sailor.” You matched the raised eyebrow that he wore when you first spoke. 

“Pilot, actually.” The man leaned on his elbows atop the counter as you started on his drink. “The name’s Rooster.”

“Rooster? That’s unfortunate.” You teased, knowing that it was only a callsign, but you were a bit disappointed. You were wishing he told you his real name, in the hopes that it was scrawled on your wrist.

Rooster got up off of his elbows to wave his hands, “N-no. It’s just my call sign, like in the Navy we’re given-” He cuts himself off when he looks at your amused face as you shake his drink. “But you knew that. You work at the Hard Deck. Surrounded by military personnel.”

That ripped a giggle out of you. His embarrassed face mixed with him rubbing the palm of his hand on the back of his neck was enough to keep you happy for the rest of your life. Little did you know, was that your laugh had the same effect on him.

“Here you go, Mr. Rooster.” You pushed his drink across the counter to him, using his callsign to tease him.

He picked it up, taking a sip. “Thanks, but I didn’t catch your name.”

“I don’t think I threw it.” You smiled at his expectant face. “You can call me Gertrude.” He gave you his callsign, you gave him a fake name.

“Gertrude?”

“Gertrude.”

He obviously knew it was a fake name, but decided to settle with it. “Okay… Gertrude. I’ll see you later, then.”

“See you later, then.” You repeated. Rooster then walked off to meet the group that was now with Hangman and Coyote.

Penny bumped you as you stared off at him. She giggled when she caught your dazed face. A silent conversation went on between you before you both went back to the bustling customers. On this particular night, the bar began to pick up later on, customers trickling in and filling up the seats. You and Penny kept busy preparing drinks, talking, and laughing with each other. You glanced up at one point, watching the door as more customers entered the bar.

You and Penny were pretty occupied tonight, and while you wanted to make small-talk with the new guy for some reason, you didn’t have much of a chance now. You and Penny moved behind the bar, doing your usual thing as you mixed drinks and retrieved beer for everyone. Penny halted her work every now and then to talk to Pete. But she wasn’t the only one distracted. You often stopped to look up toward the pilots who have been congregating at the pool tables. Truthfully, your eyes always shifted to Rooster and you caught yourself each time, wondering why you couldn’t stop looking at him.

“Hey,” Penny started as you worked on an order, “That man has not stopped watching you since he walked in.” She bit her lip, nodding toward Rooster as if to draw your attention that way.

“Yeah, I was beginning to think he was just here to check out the goods,” you laughed as you thought about how he hasn’t ordered much alcohol despite being at a bar.

“Well, go give him the goods,” Penny replied, elbowing you lightly.

“Penny Benjamin!” You gasped. “Just because your estranged boyfriend came in doesn’t mean you have to meddle in my love life.”

“Hey, I didn’t say to sleep with him,” she defended herself, “I’m only saying that he likes what he sees and that means you’re getting paid tonight if you flirt a little.”

“Yeah, I know that. But we’ve got a pretty full bar. It’s not the night to focus on one group of guys that may or may not even tip.”

“He’s just your type,” she said in a sing-song voice, ignoring your statement. You followed her eyes over to the pilots, again letting your focus fall on Rooster. She was right at least, he really was cute.

You turned away. “Yeah,” you replied, “but he’s military. We both know how that could end up.”

Penny clicked her tongue, “Don’t let my misfortunes deter you from your fate.”

“Fate? What-” Before you could turn around to look at her, she was already attending to another customer. You rolled your eyes playfully as she moved over to Pete again and continued what you were doing.

The bar was pretty slow now, everyone already having drinks in their hands. You started wiping up glasses and spilled beer. Your head shot up when a bunch of customers complained about the jukebox being unplugged. Soon after, you heard The Bell ring once more. What surprised you was that it was towards Maverick again. Laughing at the indication that he wasn’t able to pay for the round of drinks. You watched with an amused smile as Hangman, Coyote, and a third pilot threw him out of the bar.

Instead, your attention was grabbed by a Hawaiian shirt sitting at the piano. The rest of the patrons crowded around him, so it was hard to see, but you pulled yourself up to sit on top of the counter. With everyone distracted, you and Penny were able to watch the show without anyone asking for a drink. 

Rooster sat at the keys starting to play a song you’ve heard a hundred times. 

Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis. 

Your dad was a Navy sailor in the 80s, of course you recognized the song. But he played it so expertly that you swore he’d be able to play upside down and with his eyes closed. 

He sang the song proudly, like it was second nature. You were shocked at his ability to command a crowd. Throwing his head back and belting out the song. You moved to get a better look at him. 

Singing the lyrics, “Kiss me, baby…” He locked eyes with you. He played the interlude waiting for something. And you knew what it was. You threw him some slack and blew a kiss to him from your position at the bar. He shivered, acknowledging that he caught it. “Ooh…that feels good, baby.” 

You laughed as he continued his song, making eye contact with you for nearly the whole thing. His Ray-Ban caravans slid down the bridge of his nose letting you see his eyes for the first time since he came in. The warmth of his eye contact made you heat up like the drink it shared its color with. You were sure that your skin had changed its hue because you felt like you were burning up. It wasn’t unwelcome, no, not at all. In fact, you kind of enjoyed it. 

But before you knew it, the song was over. 

–

The night went on, and hours later you still had a few of the pilots sitting mingling at the pool table along with a handful of other customers. You helped a few strays here and there as they stumbled into the bar, but for the most part, the night had wound down and the place was pretty dead. You figured you’d check with Penny to see if she wanted to check out early to go talk to the dude she threw out earlier. However, you stopped at the sight of Hangman and Rooster walking up to the bar counter through your peripheral vision.

“Bartender,” one of the men said. You turned back, sort of unamused that they were calling you by your profession and not the fake name you gave them.

“Well, that was rude. I do have a name, you know?”

“Well, you didn’t give me a name during introductions,” Rooster said.

“I did, actually. I said to call me Gertrude.” you replied.

“That’s not your name,” he smirked at you, “I know that’s not your name. That’s a fake name that women give out to creeps in bars.”

“Well, can you blame me?” You questioned, motioning around you to indicate that you were, in fact, in a bar.

“No, I don’t. I bet you meet a lot of creeps working here,” Rooster bit his lip, studying you as if he were trying to figure you out. You caught on to the way he looked you up and down briefly, lip still caught between his teeth.

“They’re not all creeps,” you replied as you leaned in closer to him, elbows now resting on the counter as you met his stare. You couldn’t be sure, but it seemed as if he might be hitting on you given the way he bit his lip as he watched you. If nothing else, you could at least encourage him to drink more and tip more if you made yourself look interested.

“I bet you’d tell the non-creeps your real name,” he said, watching your reaction. It was definitely a test, either you let him know he wasn’t creepy and tell him your real name, or you refuse to offer up your name and convince him that you definitely thought he was a creep; which you really didn’t want to do. He didn’t seem like a creep, none of these guys did. But past experiences with customers made you think carefully about your response.

“Well, then she thinks I’m a creep too.” Jake added, taking the last long drink of his beer. You remembered that you gave him the same fake name when he asked for yours the first time.

You laughed lightly at him as he slid you his empty bottle. “I don’t, but sometimes I wonder.” 

The men ordered another round of beers and you delivered. You stepped back once they had their drinks, now working on cleaning up since the place had slowed down a bit, just a little. You listened as the men chatted, enjoying their drinks and recalling the missions they went on. All within their military clearance, clearly. You went about your business, letting them take their time. You only hoped that if they kept you here any longer, they’d tip you well again. At least they were mellow people. They mostly just talked and laughed, leaving you as you prepared to close up for the night.

But, it wasn’t long before Rooster came back. “You closing your tab now, Roo?” You questioned, putting the last pint glass you were cleaning up into the cupboard above you.

“How’d you know?” He asked, pulling out his card from his wallet. 

“Work here long enough and everything becomes predictable.” You took his card as he offered it. “Thank you.”

“Even me?” 

“Especially you.” You lied and turned to the register.

Everything he’s done today has been a surprise. For one, was ordering a Moscow mule. For two, playing Jerry Lee Lewis for the whole bar. One thing you definitely did not expect was the name on his debit card. 

“Something wrong, bartender?” Rooster asked from the other side of the register. He looked over to see you holding his card. 

You stood there frozen as you clutched his card in one hand. Your other hand stayed paralyzed above the numbers of the cash register. The silver, raised letters on his card contrasted against the deep red of the Navy Federal Credit Union card. ‘Bradley Bradshaw.’ 

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

Oh shit. Did you say that out loud? 

You quickly punched in all the things needed for him to pay, not to mention giving him a generous discount. After what seemed like forever, to the both of you, you walked out from behind the register. Now that there was no cash register blocking your view, you could see Bradley’s confused face. 

Hopefully this will help him to understand. You passed his card back to him with your left hand, your wrist pointing face up for him to see. You watched as Bradley’s face contorted from a very muddled one to a blissful one. He stared in awe at his name on your wrist changing colors.

“My name’s not Gertrude.” You giggled. “But, I’m sure you know that.”

Then, in a similar manner, he looked into your eyes as he took his card back with a big dumb grin. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Was all he could muster out. Looking at his wrist as he took his card, you saw your first and last name etched into his skin. “It’s nice to meet you, ‘Not Gertrude.’”

“And it’s nice to meet you, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw.”

Both of your wrists burned as the names turned into an iridescent color. Neither of you could even begin to care, though. Too distracted by the feeling of euphoria in your chests. 

“So… when do you get off?”

Before you could answer, you heard Penny yell from the other end of the bar counter. “Right now!” Making it obvious that she witnessed the whole interaction.

You looked around, hoping no one else did. But it was clear that, in fact, the whole bar did. Thankfully, it was only the rest of the pilots and a handful of others who were probably too drunk to remember it the next morning. You put your head in your hands, laughing out of embarrassment. 

Bradley made eye contact with his squad as they wolf-whistled and cheered at him. He chuckled at them and looked down at your bright red face. How lucky could he have gotten to have you as his soulmate?

Recovering from your embarrassment, you turned to look at Penny. “You sure?”

She nodded vigorously. “Of course, sweet pea. You go have fun,” Winking, she continued, “but not too much.”

You were about to revert back into a tomato before Bradley chuckled. “Thanks, Penny.”

“Of course, Bradley.”

And the shock was back. “Wait, so you knew the whole time?” You asked Penny. 

Penny giggled and shrugged. The crazy lady. She knew from the moment you showed her your soulmate mark. She was friend’s with Goose before his unfortunate passing, of course she would know his son. But you didn’t know that. 

She watched as you grabbed your bag from next to the register and headed out. Not before giving her a kiss on the cheek. Penny gently hit you with her rag on as you lifted up the bar counter to leave. 

Faintly, she heard your conversation on the way out.

“Your parents must’ve had a twisted sense of humor.”

“Why’s that?”

“Bradley Bradshaw.”

“Oh, okay, Gertrude.”

“You know that’s not my government name.”

“You could’ve come up with something better.”

“…”

“…”

“I hope you learned how to throw a right hook before going to elementary.”