#bartender!h

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Harry wiped the granite bar countertop with a frown on his face, eyebrows furrowed as he sighed exasperatedly. Seriously, what could be so terrible about opening a bar? Harry could be out dealing drugs, an alcoholic, causing problems within his family. That would be something that shouldn’t be supported. But why? Why not support his dreams of wanting to own something for himself?

“Do you think they’ll come? Gem, they didn’t even reply to my messages. How – I just... I hope they come.”

Gemma felt terrible for Harry, she did. She was thankful her parents have been there for her throughout her career otherwise she wouldn’t have made it but seeing how opposite they were with Harry often upset her. Gemma would always bring it up to their mum, earning herself the same response as always from her. “It’s not a real career, Gemma. He can ask for our help when he realizes that for himself.”

She looked up at her brother from the stool, mirroring his frown. “M’sorry, H. I don’t think I can answer your question but hey, I’m here, yeah? You’ll always have my unconditional support. No matter what you do. Don’t worry about them. Today’s your day.”

Harry’s hands stopped on the counter, his frown ceasing as it shifted to a half smile, then throwing the small rag at her. She always knew what to say to make him feel better about the situation. “Stop it. You’re getting sappy and I can’t be crying out there.”

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Despite having doubts and thinking it would take a long time before the bar would pick up clientele and traction, it was booming. The bar was doing amazing, and Harry was happy. The number of customers that he rapidly gained was insane. It felt good to see people enjoying their night with good music and a great drink in hand, socializing, destressing, having the times of their lives.

Harry had created a small stage on the bar, going as far as buying basic instruments to adorn the dark wooden platform in case the time ever came. He even created a poster inviting all aspiring artists to come perform, taped on the white stone walls on the outside of the bar.

His employees were all amazing too. It was easy to get along with them. They all had amazing work ethics that Harry admired and rewarded so they’d feel appreciated. Harry often worked alongside them, not liking to be the boss that would just sit back and watch everything happen. He’s always been a hands-on type of man, wanting to lead by example.

Regulars were known by Harry. He knew their names, what they did for work, what drinks they preferred on more stressful days. He loved engaging with them, wanting them to make his bar their favorite local spot which would also bring more clients. It was a win-win.

Harry knew he worked more than he should. If you asked the manager of his bar, Isla, she would definitely say so. Harry was at the bar nearly every day with the excuse of the bar always being busy which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

This very Thursday could attest to that. The counter stools were all filled with sober, half tipsy, and intoxicated people. The round tables around the floor no different. “Harry! Two green tea shots down the counter! On Wilson’s tab!” Isla shouted across towards Harry. He threw the rag onto his shoulder, placing the martini he had just prepared in front of the customer before he was sprinting towards the other end of the counter.

Harry’s hands were quick, two small shot glasses in his big hand, the other pouring into the glasses. He (gently) smacked them down in front of the pair which already seemed too drunk to even comprehend the atmosphere and Harry recognized it was one of his regulars with some company.

“Alright Joe. Hand over the keys, we’re getting you an uber tonight.” It was a regular occurrence. Joe Wilson is a lawyer from around the area, he would come over on Thursdays after work, get absolutely plastered nearly to the point of alcohol poisoning which resulted in Harry taking his keys and calling him an uber home with the man returning the following day for his keys. A vicious cycle for the man.

The night felt so long. Finally, 4 AM creeped around, kicking out the last few drunks before they could all clean the bar and go home. Harry’s back was hurting, his feet felt swollen, and his head was pounding. Nothing new, really.

“I really hope you’re not coming in tomorrow, Harry. You’ve been coming for like, 9 consecutive days. You need a break, dude.” Leo made a great point. Harry did need a break and he was considering it, even if Fridays was typically one of their busiest days.

“I’ll think about it. Think Isla’s off tomorrow so I’ll let Bruno know if I’m coming in or not.” Harry said as he mopped the floor behind the counter spoiled with spilled drinks and dirty shoe marks.

Leo laughed from the stage, cleaning up a pool of bile with his shirt over his nose. “Stay home, Harold!”

But of course, Harry didn’t listen. The ten-hour sleep felt regenerating for Harry. The following morning consisted of a long warm bath, some footie on the telly, and much contemplation of staying home or going into work.

Even though Harry knew Leo most likely told Bruno he wouldn’t be coming in, Harry made note of texting Bruno to let him know of his absence for the night. Only he never did because Harry decided he was going to go in… again… for the tenth night in a row. Insane? Maybe. But he just felt like he had to go. And he’ll take tomorrow off for sure. No harm in one more day.

Harry even opted for another nap so he’d be ready and wide awake for the night. He arrived at the bar at 9 PM, just one hour before opening and Leo busted out laughing the second he saw Harry walk in through the back doors. “You owe me 50, Bruno! He’s here!!”

Bruno’s loud groan filled the bar, followed by a smack on the counter with 50 quad, “Fuckin’ Harold! Would you go home and let me win this bet? I was rooting for you, dude!” Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he went behind the counter, picking up a rag and placing it on his shoulder per usual.

“You’re all ridiculous. I’m taking tomorrow off for sure. So don’t expect me.” But given his lack of absence, Leo snickered and stood right beside Harry with his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that, Harry.”

And before they even realized, it was 10 PM and there was a line at the door, ready to come in and drink the night away.

The bar had a small makeshift dance floor that was often a bit packed which resulted in having costumers that came just for the music. After a long back and forth banter with Leo, the man and his bartender ended up shoving some tables and chairs around to make space and well, he was right. It was a good idea.

Today apparently was the day for the dancers. The dance floor was filled and tight, along with every chair and even the standing area. “Bruno, can you tell Chase to not let anyone else in? S’getting a bit too crowded in here.” Bruno gave Harry a quick nod before sprinting towards the bouncer before another breath can creep into the walls filled with people, sweat, and alcohol.

There was a moment where no one came up to the bar for a drink, giving Harry and the bartenders a second to breathe. Harry nursed a cold water bottle in his hand as he looked around the bar, making sure everything was going smoothly. It was the moment that he brought up the bottle to his lips when he noticed a woman walking away from the tight dancefloor with a worried look on her face, seemingly trying to play off the fact that she might’ve been frightened or startled.

She approached the bar, looking back a few times before sitting on an empty stool which happened to be right in front of Harry. There was no doubt that she was afraid. Her eyes were wide, her forehead seamed sweaty, and the way her hands fell on the counter with a jittery shake confirmed it for Harry.

“Um, do you guys… there’s uh… I think I might need.” The woman swallowed hard, looking behind her shoulder once more as she flashed someone a forced smile. “Sorry I’m just… I would like an angel shot… a neat angel shot.” Harry immediately felt his heart drop. The woman felt uncomfortable and needed to be escorted to her car.

The first thing Harry thought about was making sure it wasn’t obvious. He nodded at her as he poured a clear liquid into a shot glass, placing it in front of her. “S’just water. Take it, and head towards the bathroom. I’ll walk you out through the back.”

The woman nodded at Harry with a nervous smile before downing the ‘shot’, slamming the glass on the counter, and disappearing from his sight. Harry quickly but calmly made Bruno aware of the situation before sneaking out to the back, finding the woman nervously picking on her cuticles in front of the bathroom doors.

“Alright, c’mon.”

Harry walked them out, going around the back of the bar towards the front parking lot where her car should be. Harry had always been the type to want to protect people as much as he could, and this was no different. She guided them to her red sedan, hearing her sigh in something akin to relied once they arrived. “Thank you so much. I felt like.. I thought he would’ve done something to me if I stayed. Sorry for making you leave. Know it’s busy in there and all, don’t mean to get you in trouble with your boss and-“

Harry’s hands held onto her shoulders with a small, comfortable smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I won’t be in trouble and anyone else in there would’ve done the same. We care about the safety of our customers, and anyone really.” Her shoulders dropped, almost as if she let down some sort of weight she felt and her head dropped to his chest, followed by a small sniffle.

“I was just so terrified… You… Thank you.” Her arms came up and wrapped around his waist tightly, taking Harry a bit by surprise. He wasn’t uncomfortable, not at all. But only God knew what the man had done to make her feel so frightened and Harry was able to remove her from the situation.

“You’re welcome. Absolutely.” After a few seconds, she pulled away, using her sleeve to wipe her now runny nose. “Look, even though we safely got to your car, have my number. Let me know when you get home, yeah? Make sure you take a longer route with more turns than usual. Just in case.”

She nodded quickly, shoving her hand in her back pocket to retrieve her phone, quickly punching in her passcode with shaky fingers before handing the device to Harry. He plugged in his number, saving the contact under ‘Harry – The Grog”, texting himself with his name so he’d recognize the number once she’d text him. “M’names Harry, by the way.”

“Oh, good. Thanks.” She grabbed it back, shoving it back into her pocket. “I’m (Y/N). Thank you, again. I really appreciate this. I’ll… I’ll let you know when I get home.”

Harry offered her a kind smile, watching her get into her car with a few more tears shedding down her cheeks and soon pulling away from the car park. He went back inside, more attentive than ever over the crowd, and the frightened woman in the back of his mind. Harry was checking his phone every five minutes, waiting for her message with worry in his chest. But that thankfully subsided when exactly 23 minutes after the text with his name was followed with:  ‘Harry. Hi. I’m home. Thank you. Thank you so much.’ Harry sighed in relief, smiling down at his phone as his fingers typed away.

‘Good, glad you’re home safe. No need to thank me, (Y/N). Have a wonderful rest of your night.’

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