Wherever the Dandelion Falls Read Free

cringed at the question. She'd started asking about my job search in September when I was still nine months from graduating. But I'd swatted the question away too many times for her not to be suspicious.
    Still, I tried one more time. "You worry about me too much. How's your new place?"
    "You're avoiding my question."
    I sighed. I was going to have to tell her. "I have a job."
    "That's great!" Kimi chirped in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?"
    "Because you're going to give me crap about it."
    Kimi seemed taken aback by that. "I wouldn't give you crap. You can tell me. Is it bean counting or something?"
    "I'm bartending."
    There was a moment of stunned silence before she said, "Oh." She must have realized she reacted exactly as I predicted she would act because she tried to cover quickly. "That's - that's not so bad, right? What kind of bar?"
    "It's a gay bar," I said.
    "Cool!" she said. But the word felt too tight, like she was forcing herself to be enthusiastic. “What made you take that job?"
    "I figured I needed a break from academia. I've been going to school nonstop since I was four, so... How are things with John?"
    The rest of the conversation meandered on, feeling more like an exchange of the insignificances in our lives. We were talking, which is something sisters should do. When it was over, I was relieved. I could tell dad we'd talked, and he'd be happy. I hung up and put on my work clothes and made my way to bar.
    It was about ten o'clock when things started getting hectic. If the crowd around the bar didn't indicate it, the nerves of Dave, my favorite coworker, certainly did. He was usually a pillar of ease and good humor, but when he started bustling around, I knew we were busy.
    Soon my face hurt from smiling at the customers as I poured beer and mixed drinks. I flipped flimsy napkins onto the damp bar and set the cups down before poking a straws into the ice and telling the customers how much of their hard-earned money they'd have to part with. When a slight lull in the crowd happened around midnight, Dave gave me a friendly nod.
    “How are you doing?” he yelled over the noise of the music.
    Despite Dave's burly stature, he was as sweet and nonthreatening as a teddy bear. I was always glad to work with him. I had seen him break up a few brawls and knew he would be able to keep things under control and protect me should the need arise. Like most of our customers, Dave was so gay that when I wore my "boob shirt" he commented on how well the color went with my skin tone.
    "Not too bad," I said, pouring a vodka tonic without looking. I noticed he was more clean-shaven and primped than usual. "Someone special here tonight?" I teased.
    Dave blushed as he picked up a tray of dirty glasses. He ran a hand over his gelled hair and tried to bite back a grin. "I'm meeting up with someone afterwards."
    I made a mock wolf-whistle at him and he flushed deeper pink. I studied him as he loaded the tray into the wash, avoiding eye contact.
    Chuckling, I turned back to a pack of hairless, preened young men who were crowding the bar, elbows resting on the wood-stained counter to claim their territory. I didn't know who had been there the longest, but I went with the one who looked least like an asshole. "What can I get you?" I shouted over the music.
    "Appletini," he said.
    I nodded and ducked to get two glasses from under the counter. I kept my gaze down as I selected the bottles and mixers I would need, thinking that maybe Dave and I could start a bet about how many appletinis we would sell that night. The charming, arrogant gay boys of San Francisco seemed to love them.
    I love the patrons at Jules', but there's no denying that in their world, there is a pecking order. As a blonde, white girl with simple style, I wasn't even on their radar.
    Over the hypnotic thumping of Rihanna's Pour It Up , I turned back to the counter, asking the next “homo-lemming," as Dave called the perfectly chiseled men that frequented the bar,