Part 9 (1/2)
”Will you give me a drink?” His voice sounded oddly familiar. Impossible. She'd never laid eyes on him before.
”That's what I'm here for, buddy.” She felt the corners of her mouth begin to lift in an unaccustomed grin. ”Unless, of course, you don't want your liquor poured by a woman. Some customers are funny like that.”
He shook his head, his features softening. ”If you knew me, you'd know that's not something I'd ever worry about.” His gaze dropped to the nametag on her navy-and-white striped blouse. ”I see you don't have a name.”
She glanced down and let out a nervous excuse for a laugh. ”Guess I lost it somewhere.” The plastic tag merely read ”The Oasis,” with a blank s.p.a.ce below it. ”One of those stick-on labels, you know.” She shrugged, busying her hands drying gla.s.ses. ”Anyway, it doesn't matter.”
”It matters to me.”
Oh brother. She knew where this was leading. ”If you...uh, don't mind, I've got other customers, mister. So...um, what'll you have?”
He inclined his head toward the gla.s.s by her elbow. ”Whatever you're drinking.”
”Oh! Well...that's just bottled water with a twist of lime.”
”Perfect. I'll have one too.” He smiled. ”On the rocks.”
Crystal knew her sigh sounded impatient. ”Sure you don't want me to add something from the well?” She pointed to the bargain-label whiskeys in the trough beside the sink.
When he shook his head, she reached for a tall gla.s.s and thumped it on the bar. Who had time for games? Not her, not on a night with one of the regular waitresses out sick and another rowdy group stumbling through her door at that very moment. If the stranger wanted water, he got water. Two dollars a gla.s.s, the same thing everybody else paid for well drinks.
He tossed his money on the counter and downed the full gla.s.s, pus.h.i.+ng it toward her again.
She laughed in spite of herself, in spite of the way he studied her so closely. ”Liked it, huh?”
His shrug was noncommittal. ”I've had better.”
”Better water?”
”Real water.” His smile transformed his features. Maybe he wasn't so homely after all. ”Water that never leaves you wanting more, that quenches your thirst completely. Forever.”
”Is that right?” She poured him a second gla.s.s, waving the newcomers toward an empty pair of tables. ”Suppose you toss down another one while I get this group set up with drinks.” She moved in their direction, then turned to send him a saucy wink. ”Don't forget, buddy. Two dollars a holler.”
Her four new arrivals had each commandeered a small c.o.c.ktail table and chair, filling up an entire corner with their long, blue-jeaned legs, mud-caked boots, and bright orange coats and vests.
”Been fis.h.i.+n' today, fellas?”
”Got that right, sweetheart!” The obvious leader of the group flashed her a toothy smile. ”Didn't catch diddly-squat, so we're here to drown our sorrows in your cheapest beer.”
She took their orders, half expecting to find the stranger's barstool vacant by the time she returned. It was vacant, all right. He was behind the bar, helping himself to a fresh gla.s.s.
”Hey!” s.n.a.t.c.hing it out of his hands, she dropped his tumbler in the tepid dishwater, splas.h.i.+ng suds on both of them. ”What do you think you're doing?”
”Serving.” He straightened and dried his hands on her towel. Her towel! ”It's what I do best.”
”Fine.” She yanked the towel out of his hands. ”Be sure and fill out an application. The next time we need a waiter, we'll give you a call.”
Before she could drive her point home any further, a couple in their twenties slid onto two nearby barstools and motioned him over. His words rang with sincerity. ”May I offer you something to drink?”
She jabbed an elbow in his side and shot him a nasty look, but he merely smiled and turned back to the couple, who ordered gin and tonics with a twist. As smoothly as if he'd been tending bar all his life, he pulled down two clean gla.s.ses, scooped up shaved ice, and sliced two slim wedges of fresh lime.
Crystal peered at him through narrowed eyes. ”You've done this before.”
”As I said, I was born to serve.” Pouring the contents of a sparkling pitcher of water into the gla.s.ses, he slid them in front of the couple, who toasted one another and lifted the drinks to their lips.
What in the...? She grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him to the far end of the bar, making sure her back faced the customers. ”What are you doing?” she hissed, heat rising to her cheeks. The nerve! ”These people didn't order plain water; they ordered gin and tonic. Are you trying to get me fired?”
”You haven't even tasted it yet.”
”The water?” It was almost a shriek. ”I know what water tastes like, for G.o.d's sake.”
”Exactly.” He was utterly calm. His eyes gave away nothing.
”But that's not what they ordered!”
”No. But that's what they need. They're thirsty.”
”Look, I...” She raked her hands through her hair. ”n.o.body...I mean...” She groaned. ”n.o.body comes in here because they're thirsty.”
He handed her an icy gla.s.s, as if out of nowhere. ”Why don't you sample some while I see if these two need anything else?”
Crystal held it, too stunned to drink, as he chatted with the smiling couple who were standing to leave and stuffing a ten-dollar bill in his hand. ”Best drinks we've ever had,” she heard the young man say. ”What did you call it again?”
Curiosity finally brought the gla.s.s to her lips. She sniffed, keeping an eagle eye on the impromptu bartender, who was pouring another round of ice water for the fis.h.i.+ng party. ”Oh no, you don't!” She lunged at him, nearly spilling the liquid all over her blouse. ”They're Pabst drinkers, the whole lot of them.”
”Let's see if this doesn't do a better job of quenching their thirst.”
Clearly there was no stopping him. The man was on a mission and certifiably crazy besides. She watched as the gang in orange and blue tossed down their drinks, laughing and nodding their approval.
What is going on here?
She lifted her gla.s.s again, sniffing it suspiciously. It smelled fresh, like the air up on Mount Hood. Holding it toward the meager glow of a nearby Coors sign, she could see the water was crystal clear. Hardly dangerous. She took a hesitant sip and was amazed at its purity, the sweet clarity of its taste.
”Well?” He was by her side again, smiling broadly.
”Well!” Shaking her head, she exhaled, then downed her gla.s.s in a greedy gulp. ”That's really something.” She held out the gla.s.s, half expecting it to magically refill itself. ”What is it?”
”Life.”
”Life?” She wrinkled her brow. ”Is that something new from Anheuser-Busch?”