Another Journey Begins
folder
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
12
Views:
864
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angst › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
12
Views:
864
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Workin' for a living
Rio attempted to tamp down her nervousness as she walked into the bar later that night. She was dropped off by Justin but as they drove she realized that she would be able to walk to the place from their house, as it appeared to be only a bit over a mile away. This had surprised her, as she'd assumed he'd live further from town than that to ensure privacy. However, the "town" looked pretty small so far and she guessed he wasn't concerned that there were many people to worry about.
The place itself was also small and old looking, yet immaculately clean. She could see that the owner took pride in his establishment. Looking around for him her eyes fell upon a thin wiry man behind the bar, in about his early thirties. His eyes fell on her as he wiped down a pilsner glass he'd just washed.
"You Rio?" he asked in a thin and grouchy tone.
Definitely not the owner, Rio thought as she approached the bar and took a stool. They were all vacant at the moment. In fact, the bar was empty save for this man, and Rio herself of course. This scrawny man with greasy mousy brown hair and dull gray eyes didn't appear nearly as friendly as the man she'd spoken with earlier.
"I am," she finally replied in her Southwest voice. "I start tonight."
The man nodded and turned away to place the glass under the bar and retrieve another to wipe dry.
"And you are?" Rio prompted as she stared at the back of his head.
"Monty," he grunted. "And just so's ya know, I ain't splittin' none o' ma tips witchew."
Rio kept her face neutral as she took in this man's defensive attitude. She hadn't realized she'd be dealing with such a coworker. She looked around again and saw that the place, though small, had an ample amount of tables scattered about.
"I tol' Freddy we don't need no waitress," Monty went on hotly. "I can tend the tables and the bar mostly. I only had trouble on karaoke night."
Rio studied the man closely, noting the agitated manner in which he wiped the glass as he spoke. And he was only growing in agitation, causing him to nearly drop the glass. She knew she needed to find a way to make some peace with him if they were going to be able to work together. It was a novel experience for Rio, really. As Tara, she'd always taken jobs that included strict supervision, so having to take charge of a situation such as this had never arisen. But she as Rio, she knew she could take a more commanding control of things. After all, that's why she became her.
"Monty," she said softly. "I don't want to step on your toes. I just needed a job. I won't try to cut in on your tips."
He stopped and slanted a look at her sideways. "Ain't you never worked as a waitress before?"
She shook her head and opened her eyes widely, assuming an innocent expression she'd hope he would take pity on.
"Tips are how ya earn most o' your livin'," he explained, putting the glass and rag aside and leaning towards her with both hands on the bar. "The pay's half o' minimum wage because you're expected ta make it up in tips."
While Rio had heard of such a practice she didn't convey that in her emotion. Even if she made the set salary and only a few tips, it was more than she was making sitting idle back at Justin and Sven's. And she could see from the plain band on the man's left hand that he had a wife, perhaps even a family to consider. She could empathize with him more than he knew. If he didn't see her as a threat, perhaps she could head off the bitterness he was beginning to hold toward her.
"All I want is a place to go for a few hours a night," Rio shrugged. "I ain't planning on taking anything from you."
Morty watched her with wary eyes for a while, appearing to be considering the truth behind what she was saying. Rio kept her appearance as non-threatening as possible, allowing him time to come to his own decision.
"It makes no nevermind," he finally sighed. "They'll probably want ta give ya tips more'n me anyway."
"Why? They know you."
"Yeah, but you're a pretty little filly," he replied as he picked up his rag and the glass again. "They hardly ever get newcomers in here, and mostly never a pretty one like you."
Rio weighed his words carefully as she watched him work. She could sense his depression over losing much of his money to her and guessed that jobs were probably hard to come by here. Yes, she needed the money, but not at someone else's expense. However, to give up this job now would probably hurt him as much as, if not more than her. Someone else would answer that ad and that person might not care about Morty's predicament.
"Ya got kids?" she asked suddenly, startling the poor man.
His eyes widened then he gave her a small smile. "My wife just had our third one lat month," he replied. "Another boy. That makes three rambunctious little ones around the house."
Rio's heart constricted a bit as she listened. Her mind wandered to the baby she and Ben would have had, and it hurt. But she forced it back to Morty as he regaled her with a tale of his oldest son, a four-year-old named Rusty.
"And he just poured the flour all over his head," Morty laughed. "My wife about hit the roof."
"I bet!" Rio grinned.
"You know, you ain't at fault here," he finally muttered after they stopped laughing. "I knew Colt needed another employee here. It can't be helped."
"But it can be," Rio smiled again. "Like I said, I just need to get out for a while at night. Be away from my house."
Morty nodded quietly, placing the glass down and reaching for another.
"So here's what I propose," she leaned forward. "We pool our tips."
He frowned but said nothing.
"Then," she went on. "We split them, 25 percent for me, and the rest for you."
"Girl, are you plumb crazy?" he exclaimed after a moment of shocked silence.
"Why?"
"That's what I wanna know! Why?"
"Morty," Rio chuckled. "You have a wife and babies. I have myself. I can more than stand to make less than you."
"But "¦"
"If you don't do it this way, I'll feel guilty," she pointed out. "And then I won't take the job. Do you think the next one who does will make you an offer like this?"
Morty contemplated her carefully again and she sat patiently in front of him. She needed this job and he needed for her to take it. Plain and simple. Finally he shook his head and smiled.
"I guess when you put it that way," he sighed. "I sure am glad you answered that ad."
"Me, too."
"Morty!" another voice boomed from the back. Rio recognized it as the man she spoke to earlier. "I can't make head or tails outta this inventory list! Can ya take it downstairs and tell me how much bourbon we got?"
The large man walked out of a door from the side that Rio hadn't noticed when she first walked in. He was an older man, about late fifties or so, with a large round gut and a jovial face. His thinning gray and silver hair was combed over his scalp and his light blue eyes danced with mirth. With a beard and a red velvet suit, Rio would have mistaken him for Santa.
"Yeah, Colt," Morty laughed as he exchanged his rag for the paper and headed for the basement stairs. "Ya never could read your own writing, huh?" He slipped behind the door and was gone a second later.
"So, you're Rio," Colt said with a smile.
"That's me."
"I was right ta trust ma gut."
Rio's face screwed up in confusion. "Hmm?"
"I was worried about Morty but I knew he needed help," Colt shrugged. "I ain't as good at getting around as I used ta be. But I knew he wouldn't take kindly ta having ta share his tips." His eyes sparkled at her. "Mighty ingenious of ya, I must say."
Rio shook her head with a smile. "Really, he needs it more than I do, and I'm happy ta help."
"Well, I can tell ya that once word gits around that we got us a new waitress, business will be more than hopping, at least fo' a while." He studied her warily for a second. "Ya are old enough ta work inna bar, right?"
"Oh yes," Rio laughed. "No worries "˜bout that."
Inside she was worried. What was the legal age, anyway? She wasn't 21 yet, but she needed a job. She'd find a way to fake her papers if she had to.
"That's good," he grinned and pulled a tee from behind the bar. "Here's your new uniform, my lady."
"Thanks!"
"When ya change, just come on back ta the bar and finish drying these glasses Morty started."
"Yes, sir," she laughed.
The place itself was also small and old looking, yet immaculately clean. She could see that the owner took pride in his establishment. Looking around for him her eyes fell upon a thin wiry man behind the bar, in about his early thirties. His eyes fell on her as he wiped down a pilsner glass he'd just washed.
"You Rio?" he asked in a thin and grouchy tone.
Definitely not the owner, Rio thought as she approached the bar and took a stool. They were all vacant at the moment. In fact, the bar was empty save for this man, and Rio herself of course. This scrawny man with greasy mousy brown hair and dull gray eyes didn't appear nearly as friendly as the man she'd spoken with earlier.
"I am," she finally replied in her Southwest voice. "I start tonight."
The man nodded and turned away to place the glass under the bar and retrieve another to wipe dry.
"And you are?" Rio prompted as she stared at the back of his head.
"Monty," he grunted. "And just so's ya know, I ain't splittin' none o' ma tips witchew."
Rio kept her face neutral as she took in this man's defensive attitude. She hadn't realized she'd be dealing with such a coworker. She looked around again and saw that the place, though small, had an ample amount of tables scattered about.
"I tol' Freddy we don't need no waitress," Monty went on hotly. "I can tend the tables and the bar mostly. I only had trouble on karaoke night."
Rio studied the man closely, noting the agitated manner in which he wiped the glass as he spoke. And he was only growing in agitation, causing him to nearly drop the glass. She knew she needed to find a way to make some peace with him if they were going to be able to work together. It was a novel experience for Rio, really. As Tara, she'd always taken jobs that included strict supervision, so having to take charge of a situation such as this had never arisen. But she as Rio, she knew she could take a more commanding control of things. After all, that's why she became her.
"Monty," she said softly. "I don't want to step on your toes. I just needed a job. I won't try to cut in on your tips."
He stopped and slanted a look at her sideways. "Ain't you never worked as a waitress before?"
She shook her head and opened her eyes widely, assuming an innocent expression she'd hope he would take pity on.
"Tips are how ya earn most o' your livin'," he explained, putting the glass and rag aside and leaning towards her with both hands on the bar. "The pay's half o' minimum wage because you're expected ta make it up in tips."
While Rio had heard of such a practice she didn't convey that in her emotion. Even if she made the set salary and only a few tips, it was more than she was making sitting idle back at Justin and Sven's. And she could see from the plain band on the man's left hand that he had a wife, perhaps even a family to consider. She could empathize with him more than he knew. If he didn't see her as a threat, perhaps she could head off the bitterness he was beginning to hold toward her.
"All I want is a place to go for a few hours a night," Rio shrugged. "I ain't planning on taking anything from you."
Morty watched her with wary eyes for a while, appearing to be considering the truth behind what she was saying. Rio kept her appearance as non-threatening as possible, allowing him time to come to his own decision.
"It makes no nevermind," he finally sighed. "They'll probably want ta give ya tips more'n me anyway."
"Why? They know you."
"Yeah, but you're a pretty little filly," he replied as he picked up his rag and the glass again. "They hardly ever get newcomers in here, and mostly never a pretty one like you."
Rio weighed his words carefully as she watched him work. She could sense his depression over losing much of his money to her and guessed that jobs were probably hard to come by here. Yes, she needed the money, but not at someone else's expense. However, to give up this job now would probably hurt him as much as, if not more than her. Someone else would answer that ad and that person might not care about Morty's predicament.
"Ya got kids?" she asked suddenly, startling the poor man.
His eyes widened then he gave her a small smile. "My wife just had our third one lat month," he replied. "Another boy. That makes three rambunctious little ones around the house."
Rio's heart constricted a bit as she listened. Her mind wandered to the baby she and Ben would have had, and it hurt. But she forced it back to Morty as he regaled her with a tale of his oldest son, a four-year-old named Rusty.
"And he just poured the flour all over his head," Morty laughed. "My wife about hit the roof."
"I bet!" Rio grinned.
"You know, you ain't at fault here," he finally muttered after they stopped laughing. "I knew Colt needed another employee here. It can't be helped."
"But it can be," Rio smiled again. "Like I said, I just need to get out for a while at night. Be away from my house."
Morty nodded quietly, placing the glass down and reaching for another.
"So here's what I propose," she leaned forward. "We pool our tips."
He frowned but said nothing.
"Then," she went on. "We split them, 25 percent for me, and the rest for you."
"Girl, are you plumb crazy?" he exclaimed after a moment of shocked silence.
"Why?"
"That's what I wanna know! Why?"
"Morty," Rio chuckled. "You have a wife and babies. I have myself. I can more than stand to make less than you."
"But "¦"
"If you don't do it this way, I'll feel guilty," she pointed out. "And then I won't take the job. Do you think the next one who does will make you an offer like this?"
Morty contemplated her carefully again and she sat patiently in front of him. She needed this job and he needed for her to take it. Plain and simple. Finally he shook his head and smiled.
"I guess when you put it that way," he sighed. "I sure am glad you answered that ad."
"Me, too."
"Morty!" another voice boomed from the back. Rio recognized it as the man she spoke to earlier. "I can't make head or tails outta this inventory list! Can ya take it downstairs and tell me how much bourbon we got?"
The large man walked out of a door from the side that Rio hadn't noticed when she first walked in. He was an older man, about late fifties or so, with a large round gut and a jovial face. His thinning gray and silver hair was combed over his scalp and his light blue eyes danced with mirth. With a beard and a red velvet suit, Rio would have mistaken him for Santa.
"Yeah, Colt," Morty laughed as he exchanged his rag for the paper and headed for the basement stairs. "Ya never could read your own writing, huh?" He slipped behind the door and was gone a second later.
"So, you're Rio," Colt said with a smile.
"That's me."
"I was right ta trust ma gut."
Rio's face screwed up in confusion. "Hmm?"
"I was worried about Morty but I knew he needed help," Colt shrugged. "I ain't as good at getting around as I used ta be. But I knew he wouldn't take kindly ta having ta share his tips." His eyes sparkled at her. "Mighty ingenious of ya, I must say."
Rio shook her head with a smile. "Really, he needs it more than I do, and I'm happy ta help."
"Well, I can tell ya that once word gits around that we got us a new waitress, business will be more than hopping, at least fo' a while." He studied her warily for a second. "Ya are old enough ta work inna bar, right?"
"Oh yes," Rio laughed. "No worries "˜bout that."
Inside she was worried. What was the legal age, anyway? She wasn't 21 yet, but she needed a job. She'd find a way to fake her papers if she had to.
"That's good," he grinned and pulled a tee from behind the bar. "Here's your new uniform, my lady."
"Thanks!"
"When ya change, just come on back ta the bar and finish drying these glasses Morty started."
"Yes, sir," she laughed.