After Midnight (a.i.)

40

Another night, another show.

After Midnight played three straight weekends in a row at the Alibi, and attendance was only going up with every show. The bar was crammed wall to wall, not a square foot of the floor was unused. People from all over Northern California flocked to see the fan favorite band, it was astonishing. I even carded someone from Nevada tonight. So who knows how expansive their following really was.

They rattled off a few of their usual songs to get the crowd excited, but I could barely focus on the music. We were swamped behind the bar, there was no pre or post show rush. There was just a rush, all night that never ended. I was on autopilot pouring drinks and sending out orders, letting my muscle memory take over for my overworked hands. Alex seemed less stressed than usual, even though we were too busy to have her strictly on shot duty. She was serving drinks like a champ, not fumbling under the immense pressure like she normally would.

We were overwhelmingly underprepared for tonight's turnout, only the three of us back here to keep up with tickets times without crumbling to the ground. I knew we'd get through it, but this mass of people was a lot to unpack.

I felt like I was drowning.

I barely had time to catch my breath, every second of free time was overtaken by another order, another bottle, another garnish that I had to take care of. One after the other after another and so on and so forth. I was probably burning more calories than I would on a four mile run, bouncing back and forth behind the bar with my frenzied hands reaching for anything in sight. The booming music shaking the walls and thumping beat beneath my feet made me lose focus, I couldn't stop my frazzled mind from jumping from one thing to the next. I was overstimulated, to say the least.

My prayers eventually manifested themselves with the man who could read me like a book, his narrowed eyes on mine from the stage surveying my alarmed features that shouted 'stressed the fuck out'. He immediately caught my pleading eyes with a look of empathy, grabbing Luke's attention while Michael shredded out a prolonged guitar solo.

I didn't have time to watch what unfolded, I couldn't do anything but continue taking orders and sending them out mere minutes later. A large group of frat guys appear in front of me and order a round of shots, I could laugh in their smug faces just from the simple request that almost sent me to the brink.

If anyone needed a fucking shot right now, it was me.

So fuck it. I filled up their six glasses with tequila and garnished with a lime. The five of them looked bewildered at the extra shot glass, one suggesting I over poured and gave them a freebie, but they couldn't be more wrong. I smacked away the slimy hand that tried to take it from the bar top and stole it for myself, quickly glancing beside me before I toss back the shot. The liquor burns my throat as I swallow it, I feel it pool in my chest with a fiery warmth.

Cheers fill the room when another songs ends and I push my hair out of my face to continue my job, begging for a quick escape. A minute of silence, a second to take a seat, even two puffs from a cigarette that was calling my name from my purse in the back room. Anything for just a fucking break.

And then my prayers were answered.

"Everyone give a round of applause to our amazing bartenders back there." Luke's voice echoes through the room, his free arm stretched out to vaguely gesture to the three of us. The crowd follows suit, their thunderous roars and cheers thrown in our direction that overwhelmed me even more. "They're killing it, aren't they?"

Jess flashes a dazzling smile to the attention she's receiving, doing her best princess wave to all of those who were watching. I just rolled my eyes and shrank behind my workstation.