“I wonder if I can toss all my loans into that boat,” she paused for a moment. “Will they disappear out of existence or?”

“Worth a shot,” Dylan chuckled loudly, taking a swig from her beer as she looked over at Marley. “Though, I have a sinking suspicion that it probably won’t be very effective.”

Ophelia watched the woman basically getting rid of the case and motioned at her and the refrigerator. “Please, be my guest.” She said in response, not really minding the other’s intrusion. Her eyes focused on the different pack of choice and of course she knew this brand, it was the same one her dad would bring back home to drink after having drank whiskey all day long. “Why then, I’ll trust your word. My bartender usually do the job for me.” She joked. 

“Your bartender and I have a lot in common,” Dylan admitted with a curt chuckle. “Though I still think I make a better drink.” One of the few skills Dylan had that she was confident in. “Dylan Stone, bartender extraordinaire,” the brunette slightly lifted one hand up as if attempting a silent ‘ta da’. “You should stop by LeRoy’s sometime. Not only is the bartender amazing,” Again, Dylan pointed towards herself before continuing. “But the beer selection is pretty amazing if that’s your thing.” 

Allowing a smirk to pull over his lips, he reached for the bills and pocketed them. “And I only offer once. Thanks,” Jay nodded. He hardly needed the money, but there was always the part of him that was a greedy son-of-a-bitch. “Listen, if someone can put away straight shots of vodka, my hat is off to them. Nothing weak about drinking glorified rubbing alcohol,” he offered, brows knitting together at her choice of rum, but filling up two of the glasses anyways. “I didn’t mean literally pick your poison,” he snorted, passing the glass of spiced rum her way and holding his up to cheers. “To cheap booze I guess,” he toasted before tapping his glass on the bar and downing all the liquid in a single gulp. 

“So where you from? Surely you’re not from around here.”

“Rum is hardly a poison,” Dylan insisted, watching as the bartender poured her shot, wasting little time in picking the glass off the bar top and lifting it in a toast. Leaning her head back, Dylan easily downed the shot, pushing the now empty shot glass back across the bar. As always, it lit a fire in Dylan’s chest on the way down, but her love for Captain was a long withstanding relationship. “What makes you think I’m not from around here?” she questioned, picking up the empty shot glass and swirling around the few drops of rum that were left behind. “Is it the accent? Or lack thereof?” Placing the glass back down, Dylan looked up at the bartender with a smile. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal; pour me another shot and I’ll tell you where I’m from.”

“Just text him. You’ll regret it if you don’t. He can be mad at the message if he wants to. He can ignore it if he wants to…. or maybe he’ll reply. But it’ll be up to him and you can live with a clear conscious knowing you tried.” Riley didn’t know her real father and was sure she never would but she did have a step dad once and even to this day she regretted all the times he’d tried to reach out to her and she ignored him. Never feeling like she was enough for him and his family, much less that he was enough to fill the spot left in her heart from her own Dad. “But do it quick. You’ve got 3 minutes before I take that phone away from you so you’ll stop wallowing.”

Dylan lifted her gaze from her phone screen up to Riley, a clear look of confliction on the bartender’s face. “If I call him or text him and he doesn’t respond, I’m going to wish I hadn’t even tried at all...” Vulnerability wasn’t something Dylan was particularly good a showing, in fact, it was something she tried to avoid at all costs. However, if there was anyone that Dylan felt comfortable revealing her true thoughts and feelings to, it was Riley. “I’m not wallowing,” the brunette insisted, a slight whine in her tone as she put her phone face down onto the table and pushed it over in Riley’s direction. “Just take it now. If he wanted me to reach out, he’d actually try and talk to me. I’m sick of being the one to always have to reach out.”

“Solid top five reason,” giggling a bit as she watched her friend work behind the bar. Harper nodded her head as a reassurance, as the drink came together in front of her eyes. Those who believed bartending was an easy job were delusional, there was a craft to making a delightful drink that most ruined. “Dylan, you are one of the few people who could never disappoint me.” Blame it on her own daddy issue that she long buried and denied from having. Raising an eyebrow she kept her lips pressed together to keep a comment to herself as she pulled the glass over to her. Harper took a moment to take a small gulp of the drink which went down smooth. “Way better,” she added noting all the horrible ones that she had during her time in the north east. Letting herself take another drink before sitting the glass in front of her, running her fingers over the edge. “Shockingly so, the days sort of melted together this week.”

Dylan watched in anticipation as Harper took a sip from the drink, satisfied grin passing over her features as her friend seemed to enjoy her drink. Despite most people considering bartending to be an ‘inbetween jobs’ kind of career, Dylan genuinely enjoyed it. Mixology was a talent most people laughed at but being capable of making a decent drink wasn’t something everyone could do. Sure, it was easy to throw together some liquor and juice but to make it actually taste good was something Dylan prided herself on. “Not that I’m comparing making drinks to saving human lives every day,” Dylan jested, shooting her friend a playful smile. “But, I did have to work double shits the last three nights in a row, so, I sort of get it.” Frankly, the brunette really had no room to complain, especially considering the number of tips that she had made would pay her rent for at least two months. “Do you at least have some time off coming up?”

↳ INSTAGRAM: @dyyylan uploaded a new photo

@dyyylan: apparently all it takes is a couple glasses of pinot grigio to turn me into johann sebastian bach. #talent #beauty #grace #canyoutelliwasdrunkwhenitypedallofthis 

Sliding her bills back towards her, his brows knit together. “On the house. Besides, you were staring so intently at that thing I was sure you were about to make it levitate or something. I was invested,” Jay smirked, reaching down to grab a fist of shot glasses and setting them atop the bar. “Cool thing about having keys to the joint is that the liquor stops flowing the second I leave. Pick your poison.”

Almost as soon as the male had pushed Dylan’s bills back towards her, she pushed them back. “Consider it a giant tip then,” she insisted, a challenging look in her eye. “I don’t take freebies.” It was true enough. If there was one thing Dylan couldn’t stand, it was handouts. The pile of student loan debt she was still sitting on was proof of that. “Vodka is weak, whiskey makes my throat feel like it’s burning, tequila never leads to anything good,” the brunette rattled off her options before pointing to a bottle of Captain Morgan. “Rum it is.”

“Oh, that’s good.” Smiling back and glancing at the refrigerator, Ophelia tsked. “I know right. Wished I was closer to home where there are better options but by the time I get there it’ll be closed. So, this will do.” She shrugged, looking back at the woman. “Beer’s not my field otherwise I’d suggest somethin’ better than my Bud here.” 

Dylan looked down at the other’s case of Budweiser, genuinely feeling a pang shoot through her chest. “You can do so much better than Budweiser,” the brunette insisted, reaching a hand out to grab the blue cardboard from the woman’s hand and putting back into the fridge. “Trust me, I’m doing you a favor.” Dylan’s gaze scanned before she opened the door again and pulled out a six pack of Stella Artois. “Okay, granted it’s not the best beer in the world, but the taste far surpasses the liquid urine that is Budweiser.”

”Light of my life,” she mused with a warm smile dancing across her lips. “Because it seems like I’m always kinda of working.” True where she was technically off today, that didn’t happen until almost eight am. When she relocated home a few years ago, Dylan being in town was an added bonus of having Ryan around. It was a pleasant collision of her childhood and college years melting into her very comfortable future. “Not surprised,” Harper said as her eyes looked around the bar as she noticed it was near empty but to be honest, that’s how she liked it on days she needed to decompress. Even without daily specials to choose from her spirit didn’t dampen, one of her closest friends was behind the bar after all. “See, this is why I like you,” teases she thought about it for a quick moment, she didn’t want to say deathbed the tip of her tongue. “Exhausted with the goal to relax.”

“That better not be the only reason why,” Dylan shot her friend a playful glare before turning back towards the wall of liquor bottles behind her to begin grabbing and concocting. “Exhausted trying to relax, I think I can handle that.” Dylan grabbed a few different bottles, eyeballing the measurements because after almost ten years of working behind the bar, she rarely needed any additional help making her drinks taste good. “Alright, if this doesn’t relax you into an almost coma, I’m going to be disappointed,” Dylan placed the glass down in front of Harper with a chuckle. “And as someone who has actually been in a coma, I promise you, this will do just the trick.” The brunette was of the belief that if you couldn’t joke about your own trauma, what was the point? “To be fair, it’s just a few ingredients shy of a Long Island Iced Tea and it tastes way better.” Holding up a finger towards Harper, Dylan quickly moved towards the opposite end of the bar, helping another customer before returning back to Harper. “How was work? Busy?”

“Ahh, I can’t believe that,” Jay nodded as he buffed the bar with a towel, clearly eavesdropping as the woman muttered towards the phone in her hands. Not that he could necessarily help doing so - it was quiet, a few minutes after bar close. Throwing the towel over one shoulder, he rested his elbows on the space in front of the brunette. “But regardless, we’re closed. Better shit or get off the pot, beautiful.”

Dylan looked up from her phone, prepared to dispute the claims the place was even close to being closed. After all, she’d only been sitting there for a few... hours? “Shit, I’m sorry,” the brunette dug a hand into her pocket and pulled out a few bills, counting out her tab plus tip and slid it across the bar top. “Though, kind of wish you would have told me earlier and not let me waste precious minutes staring at my phone instead of ordering another round.”