I had these tights the curly-headed guy had said
he liked – like fishnets but the holes were flowers – I’d
wear them every time I knew he was on shift.
Good girl, he’d say when I walked in.
I loved to flirt with him.
He had a girlfriend who’d come in from time to time.
To me she seemed quite old – as I imagine I might, if we
met – oh will we meet, Ava?
This girlfriend seemed put upon and stressy, he
told me she was pressing for a baby.
Twelve years, they’d been together,
an eternity, I said.
It’s really not, you know, he shook his head, just makes it
harder to get out of.
God, he smelled so good, Ava.
Matthew would see me flirting with the curly-
headed guy and glare and grab me roughly as he
passed.
And I’d say hey!
but in a 1950s way.
Coquettish.
And he’d whisper – you love it – loudly,
wetly in my ear.
Ava, I know this sounds so stupid,
but I thought I had it covered.
There was this older grizzled alcoholic who worked there
too called Arthur – never touched me, Ava – more
interested in drinking.
He taught me how to pull the perfect pint so he
could neck the demonstrations – various pints with
various heads.
He played the protective father most of the time.
Would step in if a customer was rude.
By closing time, he’d be quite drunk,
would drop things, undercharge for drinks and the
manager would get pissed off.
Arthur would act up to try and win him back.
He’d talk about the women in that night,
and if that didn’t work, would turn to me as I was wiping
down the bar and say,
