The bar at Restaurant 321 was packed
every night with a lively crowd of 20 and 30 something’s mainly from the entertainment
community. Not the stars and starlets that John the owner originally wanted. The frequent
bar and dinner guest at Restaurant 321 were the agents, their assistants and
the behind the scenes crew members...the folks that spent money.
“How did you learn
to make all those drinks?” I sweetly asked the bartender I was after. “I would never be able
to keep all those orders straight,” I stroked his ego and batted my eyes. He droned
on and on about his successful career while I pretended to listen. At last
call, I was still acting like his eager audience, tipsy after downing too many
glasses of wine. When he finally finished closing the bar, we started kissing
passionately right there behind the bar. Within seconds (and ear shot of the Chef) I asked Bartender Jeff back to my place.
The next morning,
I was mortified. What was I thinking? I didn’t even like Jeff romantically. The
worst part was that Dave didn’t even seem to care. In fact, Chef Dave was getting more
popular by the day as the pr campaign I was orchestrating paid off with
stories in major magazines and newspapers. It was so awkward for me, both of us
pretending we had never seen each other naked.
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