Charlie’s green converse scraped soundlessly along the wooden floorboards as she skipped and twirled behind the bar to the familiar song. An afternoon well-spent at a salon prompted her jolly spiritedness, nails manicured and mane seven inches lighter. The expectation of another person joining the team brightened her mood as well, for the strain on all bartenders would be considerably reduced. It would make life at Serpentine a hell of a lot better having more capable staff around.
The bachelor party that had taken over the parkour course re-emerged with damp shirts and glistening hairlines. They looked flushed and exhilarated, their spirits still high despite the various cuts and bruises Charlie spotted across the dozen men walking up to the bar. A few broke away from the group after asking for the restroom.
“You look like you had fun,” she commented, offering them a cheeky grin. She drummed her fingers across the aluminium ledge when she came to a stop before them, casting a glance through thick eye lashes at a particularly fit redhead. Having sold them the passes over an hour ago, she was glad to see them returned. There may have been a discount offered on the condition they swing by for a few pints afterwards. “What can I get you lads?”
“We’ll start with thr—hey guys, three or four? Four jugs. We’re parched.”
“Aye, that course’ll do that to ye,” she replied with a grin, reaching for the oversized jugs beneath the ledge. “That’ll be 40 quid.”
Two crisp green bills were handed to her, which she placed into the till with practiced speed. In return, she placed four columns of three glasses onto the countertop, then went about filling the first of four jugs. As the men slipped into conversation amongst themselves, trading places with some of those returned from the toilet, Charlie glanced across the room, her view considerably blocked by the sausage fest before her.
The bachelor party that had taken over the parkour course re-emerged with damp shirts and glistening hairlines. They looked flushed and exhilarated, their spirits still high despite the various cuts and bruises Charlie spotted across the dozen men walking up to the bar. A few broke away from the group after asking for the restroom.
“You look like you had fun,” she commented, offering them a cheeky grin. She drummed her fingers across the aluminium ledge when she came to a stop before them, casting a glance through thick eye lashes at a particularly fit redhead. Having sold them the passes over an hour ago, she was glad to see them returned. There may have been a discount offered on the condition they swing by for a few pints afterwards. “What can I get you lads?”
“We’ll start with thr—hey guys, three or four? Four jugs. We’re parched.”
“Aye, that course’ll do that to ye,” she replied with a grin, reaching for the oversized jugs beneath the ledge. “That’ll be 40 quid.”
Two crisp green bills were handed to her, which she placed into the till with practiced speed. In return, she placed four columns of three glasses onto the countertop, then went about filling the first of four jugs. As the men slipped into conversation amongst themselves, trading places with some of those returned from the toilet, Charlie glanced across the room, her view considerably blocked by the sausage fest before her.
