After wiping down the long glossy rosewood bar, I lifted my left foot to relieve the pain and pressure of standing for so many hours straight, then did the same for my right. It was my little trick to get through the night; working three jobs and going to school at the same time was not for the faint of heart.
Since this was Saturday, I’d already served as a hostess from eleven in the morning to three this afternoon over at the Heard Dat Kitchen, a hole in the wall greasy spoon located in a strip mall across town. The restaurant served Southern homestyle cooking and desserts, and while it didn’t look like much with its ads for liquor, money orders and cigarettes hanging over the awning at the entrance, the tasty buffet food more than made up for it.
I only carried out my hostess duties one day a week, so I couldn’t complain. I needed all of my jobs just to keep my head above water. Still, sometimes I dreaded Saturdays. They tended to be not only my longest day, but also my most tiring.
My gaze flew over the portraits of important figures from New Orleans, the always running ceiling fans and oaken tables, the dark exposed beam ceiling and the domed bar behind me, filled with a kaleidoscope of liquor in clear glass bottles. Music played from the surround sound speakers, the accordion, fiddle, steel guitar, harmonica and bass identifying it as regional to Louisiana.
Bar Fantastique was a decent tavern as the French Quarter went. A mix of tourists and locals frequented the place, and I only rarely received a pinch on the ass for my troubles. Most wanted me to lend them an ear while they called me honey or sweetheart. Whether with or without the Cajun accent, the presumption of such men rankled.
Good thing those honey or sweetheart commenters offered up the biggest tips.
I’d often been subjected to a horrendous number of up and down looks over my time here, some of which were the undressing me kind, but I’d grown used to such irritants. Bartending wasn’t the worst occupation I’d ever held. Hell, it wasn’t even the worst of the jobs I held right now. Besides, I’d do whatever I must to support Callie, my beautiful little girl.
It still amazed me how someone so small could own such a huge chunk of my heart. The moment she swam into my world, everything flew upside down, but my love for her was immeasurable, unconditional. Which made me wonder why my own mother had been so blasé about her own parenting style.
Leona Miller could be unpredictable at the best of times and downright selfish at the worst, but I tried to forgive her for that. She was, after all, the only parent I had. Still, I’d never been able to count on her. I could have used more support and stability at the beginning when I was a nineteen-year-old mom myself. But oh, well.
Wishing and a quarter would get you twenty-five cents every time.
It had been a busy night, but things seemed to be settling down. The other bartender on duty, a nice clean-cut blond guy named Craig with a penchant for burly biker dudes, tended to squelch some of the more ridiculous comments.
Having a man around, gay or straight, helped to keep the tipsy in line. It even helped with the fall-down drunks. If there was a male behind the counter, that meant I wouldn’t have to drag my own five-foot seven-inch self out to deal with any problems.
My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, and I retrieved it. I recognized the number, even though I’d never saved those specific digits into my contacts list. The caller didn’t leave a voicemail, just like usual, but I didn’t need a voicemail to know who this was. This call came from my other “boss”, the one I preferred not to talk about. I told Craig I was taking a break and slipped outside into the back alley so no one else would be privy to our conversation.
The voice on the line was ancient sounding, weathered by age and who knew what else. Not that I’d ever ask. The woman on the other end of the line would be unlikely to answer honestly, even if I did.
“Have another job for you tonight,” she said, her tone one hundred percent business.
I’d already been on my feet all day and half the night, and I was so weary I weaved when I walked, but personal property taxes and daycare didn’t pay for themselves. It’d be worth it. This boss, the woman known only by the slightly ludicrous title of the Wish Maker, had come through for me with work when no one else had a few years ago.
Her substantial paychecks had not only kept me and my baby off the flagstone streets, but one of her two-hour jobs paid five times what an eight-hour bartending shift did.
Even if they did make me feel scummy.
I imagined this was how exotic dancers must feel sometimes. There was nothing wrong with what either of us were doing, but there was a stigma I couldn’t avoid feeling, anyway.
“When can I pick up the payment?” I chewed on my pinky nail.
“Tomorrow.”
“Just text me the time and address, then.”
No one but my best friend and roommate Raina LeBlanc knew about the Wish Maker and her extra “jobs”. Raina worked here at the Bar Fantastique with me, keeping her shifts opposite mine so she could watch Callie when I couldn’t. I’d been looking so forward to cuddling with my four-year-old soon even though I knew she’d be asleep, but sometimes, you just had to suck it up.
I drove my beat-up Volkswagen Beetle from the bar to the stately manor house of my client, which while opulent and expensive, still gave off that strange mothball smell some of these houses seemed to grow like a fungus. After two hours that felt more like twenty, I went home, glad to be done for one more night.
Anxious to see Callie, I hurried into her tiny lace-covered bedroom, taking in all the pinks and purples enveloping the space. She lay there in silent repose, and I peered down at her, feeling so much love I thought my heart might burst.
Callie looked like a carbon copy of her father. Yes, she had my narrow nose and bow-shaped mouth, but the rest of her was his. If they were to ever be side by side, there was no way he could ever deny her.
Not that them being side by side was ever likely to happen.
I knelt over my daughter so I could kiss her cherubic cheek. Whatever had happened between her father and me – or hadn’t happened – Callie was perfect, an absolute angel. She proved to me that no matter how I felt or who I was, goodness still existed in this world.
Someday, if the fates were kind, I’d discover someone to have companionship with, a real connection. I didn’t really need romance and fairy tales, I didn’t even believe in them anymore, but having someone there to share the load with would be helpful. Not that I didn’t adore Raina. I did. If not for my best friend and roommate, I wasn’t sure I ever would have survived being a single mom.
But I couldn’t ask her to play babysitter forever. I knew her devotion to our friendship was hampering her life, especially any chances at finding a man or bettering her own career. She’d made room for Callie and me, set her goals and opportunities aside to help us.
Raina had been my rock, a stable anchor when both my mother and Callie’s father had failed me.
Yet, it wasn’t fair to her.
I owed her in a very big way. And I needed to figure out how to repay her, to balance the scales back out again.
I promised myself I’d figure out a solution to my problem. Callie would be going to kindergarten soon, and I planned to enroll her in any after-school activities they provided so she’d be not only set up academically but socially as well.
I’d give my daughter anything and everything. The whole world, if I could. My eyes and nose stung with a sudden onslaught of emotion, and though I managed to suppress my sobs, my tears streamed down my face unchecked. I didn’t want to fail my daughter. I couldn’t.
Raina appeared behind me and put a hand on my shoulder. Her support was enough for me to pull myself together. With more effort than I’d have liked to admit, I straightened again. I must be overtired. I’d been dealing with this for over four years now, this feeling of being overwhelmed. But when you’re a single mom at twenty-three, such things are inevitable.
I slipped back out of my daughter’s door, heading for our kitchen and the coffee maker within it.
It might have been three in the morning, but I still needed to study for my nursing class.