Chapter 3
The Sitting Bull Bar & Grill was a sprawling facility on Front Street near Pine, the busiest intersection in Harvest Springs, although Sunday traffic was relatively light and there were only two cars in the tavern lot when Jimmy chugged up in his Gremlin.
After checking himself in the rearview mirror and popping a zit on his chin, Jimmy slipped out of his hatchback and pressed toward the bar to start a job he didn't want. He pulled open the heavy door and faltered inside. When his eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed a pretty blonde in a tube-top and hotpants counting change near the cash register.
Jimmy buried his hands in his hip pockets and approached the woman. "Um, excuse me. I'm supposed to start at six. I'm a little early."
"Oh, are you the new porter?" The woman sighed. "Finally."
"Is, uh, Mike here?"
"No, he doesn't usually come in on Sundays. I'll show you what you need -- I'm Lisa, the assistant manager."
"Oh, hi. Jimmy Dombrowski."
"Okay, there's a ton to do, so you should probably go ahead and get started." Lisa pointed toward a door at the rear of the bar. "There's stacks of beer back there that need to go to the basement first thing. You'll see where the different brands go; stack them up neat and don't just throw 'em up there or the cases will fall over and the bottles will all break -- and that comes out of your pay."
Jimmy nodded. "Got it."
"That basement needs to be swept up while you're down there. Oh, and then I'm gonna need you to clean both bathrooms and the kitchen. Get 'em good; they haven't had a real deep cleaning since Carlos quit. You'll be cleaning them when you first start your shift every day, and then again after we close."
"Will do, I'll get started on those stacks of beer now," Jimmy said. "Nice to meet you."
"Ugh, you too," Lisa murmured as she strutted away. Slack-jawed, Jimmy stared at his assistant manager's ass-cheeks, which spilled out of her hotpants and twitched with each cocky step she took.
Once Lisa was gone, Jimmy hopped into action. Although he wasn't happy about working as a bar porter, he was desperate to please Nicole, so he threw himself into his tasks. He was lugging a case of Blatz to the basement when a tall woman with curly brown hair stuck her head through the doorway. Jimmy smiled and sang a cheery, "Hey, what's up?"
"Put that down and get out there." The woman gestured toward the front. "Some drunk just puked and you need to clean it up, like, yesterday."
Jimmy set down the case of beer. "Where do you keep the cleaning supplies?"
"In the storeroom behind the cooler."
Jimmy stuck out his hand. "Hi. I'm Jimmy Dombrowski, by the way."
The woman ignored his handshake offer and again pointed toward the front. "I'm DeeDee and you need to get that puke cleaned up or customers will start leaving. Get out there -- now!"
"I'm on it!" Jimmy said with as much enthusiasm as he could muster as he scooted toward the storeroom. The vomit was washed up and the area disinfected posthaste, and then Jimmy continued carrying stacks of beer cases to the cellar. As he worked, more customers trickled into the bar, and Lisa told him that in addition to his other duties, he needed to swing by their tables every now and then to wipe up spills and remove empty glasses, discarded napkins and swizzle sticks.
After the beer cases were stacked, Jimmy worked his way through the bar on busboy duty. As he reached for a balled-up napkin on a table near the jukebox he knocked over a beer bottle, spilling the contents in the customer's lap. The portly, redheaded man in the booth jumped to his feet and bellowed, "What the fuck!"
