Let Me In-Dragan's Tale: The Mikhailov Brothers Read Free Page A

THREE
    BEERS
    Toni
    “I’m serious sweetheart. You lift up that flannel shirt you have on and let me see your ass in those leather pants…I will buy you a fucking car. I kid you not.” The man in the suit’s face flushed with his promise. His voice squeaked in earnest. This kind of customer was a waste of my time. I did not date patrons. Ever. I just didn’t tell the customers that. Let ’em think they had a chance. They came back, spent more money and tipped the staff. If a man was so naive that he thought I gave him a second thought once he paid his tab and I passed him his drink, he deserved the disappointment. I was all about the bottom line.
    When I started working at The Booth I was trained by the best. Lenny Sabin taught me everything I know about running a bar. When he died five years ago, the baton was passed to me to continue training staff. Rosa, his widow, was glad to have me. The Booth was Len’s dream, not Rosa’s. I suppose I felt the responsibility to continue what Len started. Over the years, I have steadily taken over more of the responsibilities here. And I loved it. And one of the first things he taught me was to respect the product. We don’t use sub-standard spirits and we offered only beer worthy of being in our taps.
    I threw the suit a look of disgust and started my pull of Stella Artois for a hottie in a leather jacket. I got a solid gay vibe from him but I appreciated a man with good taste.
    Ignoring the married dickhead, I watched the bubbles of carbon dioxide expand and float up the tawny liquid for a moment before skimming the top off and handing it to the tall man who had been waiting patiently against the rail. “Here you go sweetie. Enjoy the show,” I said with a wink.
    “I already did,” he replied with a grin. He handed me some bills and made his way through the crowd that had queued up behind him. I caught the look David gave the customer as he passed to take the spot the man in leather had just vacated.
    “You got a great crowd tonight Rosa,” David yelled over the clamor, stealing one more glance behind him.
    Rosa nodded. “I always do when you play. All those hopeful women and closeted men,” she barked. It was true though. Having David’s band on stage brought the people out in droves. His popularity was too big for Austin only. Fist had a wild fan base all over the country. But he wouldn’t leave the city for L.A. or New York. I’d heard him tell a dozen different executives from agencies and record labels. Austin was his heart. This was where he would record. Where he would live. Period.
    David looked around. “I got no time for closeted men, baby,” he laughed. His voice sounded like someone had taken a scouring pad to it. In reality, it was a combination of five weeks touring California, Texas and Colorado and a two pack a day habit.
    “Toni!” Rosa pulled me from the tap. “Go, enjoy the night with Evelyn. Give yourself a break,” she added with a laugh.
    I turned to my friend. “You sure? We got a helluva line here Rosy.”
    Rosa shook her head and handed bottled waters to David for the band. David said with a laugh, “Look around you crazy bitch. The fucks are lined up for you…Give the other tapsters a chance.”
    I did look around and finally noticed that the bulk of the crowd had congregated in front of my taps. I would never screw the other bartenders out of tips but I hated to lose the hours. I needed every penny I was making. Rosa steered me to the end of the bar.
    “I know you need the money, Toni.” she said, reading my mind. “I owe you for opening for me all week anyway. And for cleaning the floors. Go hang out with Evie. You aren’t going to take a hit on the paycheck this week, I promise.”
    I eyed her warily. I appreciated what she was saying but still preferred to earn my pay.
    Without another word she pushed me toward David and a line of customers reformed in front of the remaining three male attendants. I said my goodbyes to the