“Quotation Is A Serviceable Substitute For Wit”

The front door is unlocked again, so you enter immediately. The interior looks just the same as the other day, the only difference being the presence of Bev at the bar. When you enter, she looks up, her face blooming into a bright smile.

“Hey, you!” Bev chirps, wiping her hands off her apron as she rounds the bar to greet you. “You’re right on time.”

“Right on time for what?” you ask, following Bev to the bar.

She gestures for you to sit, then pulls out the mixer from behind the bar to pour it into two glasses filled with ice. “Right on time to try my newest concoction.”

You cock a brow. “Are we allowed to drink on the job?”

Bev shoots you a mischievous grin. “We are if no one sees.” You both laugh, and Bev adds, “But for real, tasting is a part of our job! Volt encourages trying out new recipes and is always willing to taste-test. And Eddie drinks all the time and no one cares.”

That probably violates some kind of OSHA laws, you decide, but whatever. 

“Good enough for me,” you say with a shrug, accepting the drink and lifting it up to clink with Bev’s. 

You drink the blue concoction and almost choke at the sensation. Bev makes the same face as you.

“Too much tequila,” you wheeze, hacking a little as you swallow.

“A bit,” she agrees, with a sigh. “I’ve been trying to come up with a signature drink for the Breaker Box in time for our grand re-opening in a few days, but it’s like my creative juices have been tapped out.”

“It’s a good drink,” you offer, tapping your glass, “but it doesn’t really say Breaker Box, does it?”

Bev hummed in agreement, looking rather thoughtful. “Yeah. Anyways, thanks for being my taste tester.

The neon sign is off, but you recognize the words hanging in front of tinted windows.

The Breaker Box

You squint, but can’t see much going on inside on account of the sunny day and darkened interior. What you cansee, however, is the sign plastered in front of the window in big, bold font.

GRAND REOPENING: NOW HIRING HUMAN BARTENDER

INQUIRE INSIDE

It’s ridiculous, you think. It should be ridiculous. You haven’t bartended since college, and though you had enjoyed it, you have a degree in customer service now. You should be thinking about your career, right?

But a job is a job, and beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers. Besides, the thought of answering another phone with an overly-peppy, “Valdivian Customer Service Representative #6728390 here how can I help you?” makes you want to throw up. You had liked bartending, liked talking to regulars, chatting with students, flirting with customers to try to get a bigger tip. You blink, and suddenly recall that bartending had been the very thing that had gotten you to get your degree in customer service in the first place. Maybe that’s exactly what you needed: a reminder of what actually liked about your chosen career.

Besides, rent was due soon, and it isn’t like you have anything left to lose.

You reach for the door. The knob is unlocked, however, so you push open the door to the inside of the club. 

As your eyes adjust to the darkness, you realize that it isn’t exactly a dive bar. Or at least, it doesn’t look like any dive bar you been to in the past. The room is devoid of any customers, which makes sense since it’s not even three in the afternoon. It’s surprisingly clean, too, with chairs stacked on tables and a squeaky-clean looking bar set-up. The decor makes you think of speakeasies, with red-velvet seats and booths that surround a stage. It certainly looks like they’re preparing for a grand re-opening, on account of the streamers and party balloons that are haphazardly strewn across a few tables and a corner of the floor. 

The room is dimly lit, but there are oddly shaped, dark patterns that litter the wall. They are spatters, like those ink paintings that therapists use. No, you correct yourself, squinting  to try to puzzle out the odd decoration choice, and reach out to touch the wall—

A hand closes around your wrist and spins you around. You stare up to see dark eyes and a scowl. 

“We’re closed, human,” he growls, grip tightening around your wrist. It’s not tight enough to hurt, but you know you wouldn’t be able to break his grip easily. “Who are you? What do you want?”

You pull your arm helplessly. As expected, the man does not let you go. “I’m—” you stammer, heart pounding in your chest from the fright. How had the man snuck up on you so silently? You hadn’t even heard him approach. You take a deep breath, calming yourself. “I— sorry, I didn’t realize you were closed.”

“The neon closed sign didn’t give you any hints?” the man asked, scathingly.

You narrow your eyes at him. This time, when you tug your arm back more forcefully, he lets you go, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling.

“Well,” you say, a harsh edge lining your tone now, “I came by to ask about the sign in your window, but I guess I have my answer. I’ll just go then—”

“Eddie!”

The second voice startles you, but the scowling man doesn’t even flinch. You turn to see someone else approaching you. He looks like the scowling man’s complete opposite: wide, friendly smile and open body language. His face is bright and beautiful, framed by long, wavy white hair.

“You must be talking about the bartender position,” the man says, warmly. “I’m Volt, one of the owners of the Breaker Box. Please excuse Eddie, he woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

You straighten a little at his introduction and hold your hand out to greet him. You’re expecting a handshake, which is the only reason you get flustered when his instead turns your hand over, lifts is, and brushes his lips against your knuckles. From anyone else, it might have been off-putting, but Volt moves with such self-assured grace that it looks perfectly natural. He glances up at you from underneath white lashes and his lip curls into a smile when he sees your undoubtedly red face.

“Welcome to our establishment,” Volt says, a purr reaching your ears. 

You stare stupidly at him for a beat too long before you jolt back to your body. “I— um, hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Volt straightens, letting go of your hand and instead turning to the other man, Eddie, who has now gone from glaring at you suspiciously to outright rolling his eyes. 

“Eddie, remember I put that sign up there?” Volt says, pointedly. “We need another bartender to help Bev.”

Eddie’s arms are still crossed over his chest, but he dips head head slightly in acknowledgement of Volt’s words. He takes a step back, though his piercing stare doesn’t leave you immediately. You take a moment to stare at him right back, taking in his appearance. His shaggy black hair is a mess, like he really did just roll out of bed. He has a square jaw and what one might call a handsome face, if it wasn’t attached to a man who moved like a shadow, grabbed unsuspecting strangers, and snapped at people trying to apply for a job. 

“Whatever,” Eddie finally says, mouth flattening into an unhappy line. “You’re in charge of hiring.”

With that warm welcome, Eddie disappears behind the door next to the bar.

Volt sighs, refocusing his gaze on you. “My apologies for my partner. He’s co-owner, but is decidedly less interested in the people element of the business.”

You bite back a snarky response, because no matter how stupid or rude a Valdivian customer had been to you, you had never acted anything like Eddie just had. Instead, you give a stiff nod. “It’s no trouble. I saw the sign in front of your bar and I thought— well, I did some bartending back in college. And I’m decidedly, blandly human.”

Volt brightens at that. “Wonderful! Why don’t we take a seat, and we can talk?”

You follow Volt to the bar. He gallantly pulls out the chair for you before heading behind the bar.

“Can I get you something to drink?”