Chapter 52

“Sir?” Andre says, coming to my rescue as he walks to my side, polishing a glass as he does. His hands are always in motion, I’ve noticed – always busy fixing, cleaning, setting straight.

“Well, Andre?” Romano says, shifting his eyes to the man in charge. “How’s she fitting in?”

“So far so good,” Andre says, and as I look up at him I realize that that might be high praise from a man who has high standards. “Should we quiz her, see how far she’s gotten?” He holds out his hand to me, and, understanding his meaning, I hand him the cocktail menu.

“Be my guest,” Romano says, his lips lifting into a smirk.

“The Manhattan,” Andre snaps at me, his face blank. “What’s in it?”

“Bourbon,” I answer instantly, “sweet vermouth, and bitters. Garnish is a black cherry in the bottom of the glass.” I say these terms like I know what they mean, even though I don’t. What the hell is a black cherry? What are bitters?

“And what do we never use?” Andre asks, raising his eyebrow.

“The red cherry – maraschino.”

Romano laughs at my answer as well as Andre’s sharp nod. “Give her a hard one this time,” he says, leaning against the bar.

“All right,” Andre says, glancing at the boss and then back to me. “The Goldfinch. Go. Ingredients.”

I wrack my mind, wanting to get this right. “Also a whiskey cocktail,” I say fast, holding Andre’s gaze. He nods to me, just slightly, letting me know I’ve got the right start. “Elderflower liqueur, lemon, honey, and…the white of a quail egg?” I say the last one as a question because…I mean, I remember it being written on the page, but that just sound so gross…

Andre breaks into a smile before he looks at Romano again. “Like I said,” he says with a shrug, “so far, so good. She’s not stupid, at least.”

“I knew I picked a winner this time,” Romano says, nodding at Andre and looking me over one more time before he strides away.

Andre hands the menu back to me. “That was good,” he says, his eyebrows arched like he didn’t expect me to know the answers. “Keep studying.”

“Do you really put egg in it?” I ask quietly, taking the piece of paper back.

He laughs now, smiling at me for real. “It’s delicious, Bambi, you’ll see. If you’re a good girl we’ll make you one to celebrate you surviving your first shift.”

I stick my tongue out, not sure if I’m going to be able to drink something with raw egg in it, but Andre just laughs again and walks away, back to his work.

“Makes it nice and frothy,” Frankie murmurs, and I look up at him.

“Huh?”

“The egg white,” he says, glancing away from his phone and over at me. “Makes it nice and frothy.”

“Do you want your drink to be frothy?” I ask, a little disbelieving.

Frankie laughs and turns his head to me now. “It’s delicious, Bambs. You’ll like it.”

“How do you know that?” I ask, turning my head to the side and studying him. “Do you like…come here?”

“Nah,” Frankie says, grinning at me. “I’m not rich enough for this place. I mean, I’ve come with Christian before, but not to imbibe. I know because my dad was a bartender.”

“He was?” I ask, surprised. Of all the things I thought Frankie’s family would have done…well. I guess I thought it was more mafia-centric at that.

“Sure,” Frankie says, nodding and leaning on the bar now. “He was Romano’s dad’s favorite bartender. Romano knew my dad really well as a kid – he grew up in that bar, my dad used to give him free cokes. So, when I got older,” Frankie shrugs like that’s how things are done, “Romano gave me a job. Knew I came from good people – could be trusted.”

“Oh,” I say, surprised again that that’s how it works. But I guess it makes sense – if you’re looking for people to have in your inner circle, I guess knowing where they come from is important. “When did you start?”

“When I dropped out of school,” Frankie replies, turning back to his phone. “Fourteen.”

“You dropped out of school when you were fourteen!?” I’m aghast at that information.

“School was a nightmare for me, Bambs,” Frankie says, shooting me a grin. “I already knew everything they were going to teach me – I’d read every damn book in the library. I wanted to work – my parents, they were smart for letting me go. Besides, I’ve done well for myself, even without the degree.”

“Did you get a GED?” I ask, fascinated, but then Andre barks my name and I blush. He nods significantly down at the paper in my hand and I bite my lip, forcing myself to pay attention. But I can’t help it when my eyes drift back to Frankie.

Frankie – he really is full of surprises, isn’t he?

I find myself more and more intrigued by him as the days pass.

More people come in as I study the menu and each of them quietly gets to work, immediately knowing their role and filling it with quick efficiency. I’m impressed by the order of this place and, while it does remind me of the strip club in some ways – a big group of people all collaborating, knowing that the guests are where the money is – I do realize that it’s a big step up in the service world.

This place – it is a nice bar. The kind of place people kill to work at.

As the front door opens and guests begin to arrive, Andre walks over to me, tossing a towel over his shoulder. “You ready, Bambi?” he asks, offering me a hand to help me off the stool. I take it and smile at him.

“I think so,” I say honestly. “Put me to work.”

And he sure as hell does.

The next few hours pass quickly and I barely have time to process them. Andre – he’s bossy, and sharp, but he is good at what he does. I learn quickly to stand about a foot behind him – close enough that I’m ready to take on whatever order he tosses my way, far enough that he doesn’t smack into me when he quickly turns. I only made that mistake once.

Andre has me slicing fruit, washing glasses, fetching ice, bringing him assorted liquors from the back of the bar and the basement downstairs, which is reached through a little trapdoor in the floor that I didn’t notice. By the end of the lunch shift I’m tired but happy – and the smile on my face shows it.

“All right, girl,” Andre sighs as he makes what looks like the last drink before the bar closes for an hour or two before the night shift. He beckons me with a finger and leans against the bar near where Frankie is sitting. “You ready for your assessment?”

My eyes go wide as I move to stand in front of him, tucking my hands behind my back. I mean, I knew he was watching me, but I didn’t know I was going to be…assessed. “Sure?” I say, hesitant.

“You did good,” he says, a little smirk on his lips.

I blink, surprised, because…I mean, I expected a little more than that. He laughs, I think pleased at my shock, but his smile is genuine. “Today was to see if you could hack it. If you couldn’t, I’d tell Romano to take you away, hire someone else. And he listens to me on that. You’re green, but you’re a good worker. You can come back tomorrow for lunch, and then dinner too, if you want to do a double.”

“Oh!” I say, my own face breaking into a smile at what I think is a pretty rare invitation. “Um,” my eyes dart to Frankie. “I have to…ask. To see if I’m allowed.”

“Who are you asking?” Andre inquires on a little derisive huff. “Your mommy?”

“Her daddy,” Frankie supplies, dry.

Andre just shrugs and returns his eyes to me. “Whatever. Send word through this one. Frankie, make sure she knows the history of the place, make sure she understands her job.” He moves his eyes up and down my body quickly. “Make sure she keeps dressing good.”

Frankie just gives Andre a thumbs-up, not looking up from his phone as Andre nods to me and walks away.

“Wait,” I say, watching Andre leave and leaning against the bar to peer at Frankie with a frown. “Do you guys like…know each other?”

“Andre?” Frankie asks, looking up at me and then letting his eyes follow the bartender as he walks away. “Yeah, sure. He’s my brother.”

I swear to god, my jaw smacks the floor.