A Round of Drinks - 2

Chapter 2

Travis preferred being in the bar.

It wasn’t because he’d spent most of his life there though, not really, although it did play a part, he supposed. He’d done his homework on the counter almost every time, under the watchful eyes of his father. He’d spent afternoons with friends sharing drinks, with and without alcohol depending on when it happened, sitting at one of the tables around the place. He’d learned to play cards, and pool, and with darts there. Most of his days had been spent there, not in the apartment on top.

However, it was not that what truly kept him there after the day was over and he’d have, admittedly, rather been almost anywhere else other than the place where he worked. It felt like work wasn’t done if he stayed. No matter how much he was liking serving drinks and all that, Travis still wanted to take a break when it was all said and done.

Except going to the apartment sounded worse to him.

All the same, he had to force himself to walk upstairs and inside it every single day.

Like every single day, he paused as soon as the door clicked shut behind him. The bare walls still gave him pause, made him feel like he was at the wrong place. He hadn’t expected photos of him to still be around – the same way he hadn’t expected to be named in his father’s will –, but he’d expected some of those to still be around. There’d been other pictures, after all, of his father, of his father’s family, people that no longer were around. There’d even been pictures of friends, family of friends…

Yet when he stepped inside the first time, and ever since, the walls were bare. Other things, decorations, trinkets, had been taken away too. Someone had, evidently, come around and organized things. Travis had almost thought they had been thrown or given away, but he’d found most of what he’d expected neatly in boxes inside the tiny storage space behind a faded white door, like all the others.

The strangeness of the sights wasn’t the only thing that put him off the place though.

It wasn’t even the worst.

‘It’s so… silent,’ Travis thought, lips ever so slightly pursed and the hint of a frown between his brows. The apartment had never been silent. It’d been rather quiet, admittedly, but whenever he stepped through that door, there was always something to hear. His father, cooking dinner halfheartedly or heating up something. His father, passing pages on his newspaper or the rare book. His father, snoring away during the night.

There’d always been something to hear when he was home, because home meant his father was around.

That was not the case anymore.

“Why did you leave me all this, old man?” he mumbled. He’d wanted to speak out loud, speak properly. Maybe it was a weird instinct or subconscious or whatever that urged him to fill the silence in some way. He failed, and he guessed he’d have failed to accomplish that too even if he’d managed. The place seemed to swallow his words like a stray dog would some thrown out leftovers. “Why?” he asked, and he hadn’t even noticed he’d been walking until his hand reached forward and touched the door that hid all the random things that had made the apartment a home.

Without thinking, he opened the door and looked at the assortment of boxes.

“Why did you leave me all this when you kicked me out?” he asked the air, the apartment, as if it could give him an answer. He didn’t get one, but that seemed to inspire an idea. A stupid, laughable idea that he followed anyway. Travis pushed a stack of boxes to the side, searching for the small one, hidden behind everything in the corner. He’d found it when he was a child and he found it again then.

It was a small shoebox, with whatever brand might have marked it long gone under the years, the dust and maybe the occasional handling. It was also light, so very light. It was old and inconspicuous… and yet Travis still handled it like it was a diamond that might break like glass. He pulled it out, like he had all those years ago when he first found it and like he had every single time he looked for it, searching for answers.

It had never given him any before, and he knew it wouldn’t give him then…

However, he still sat on the floor there with his legs crossed, opening it like one might a chest full of treasure. Inside, a deck of cards sat innocently, perfectly in the middle, like it’d been waiting for him since the last time he’d seen it. A part of Travis hated it though, because it was so good at giving him hope, filling him with longing that would just rip his heart to shreds every single time. It was like looking at an old friend and an old bully all rolled into the same thing.

Yet he picked the deck up, slowly shuffling the cards like he had a million times. He might have been at it for a few minutes just as well as he could have been for an hour, but ultimately, he paused. He almost threw the thing into the box once more, he almost cursed himself and snapped himself out of the trance.

In the end, he didn’t.

“Can you answer me?” he asked, taking the top card and laying it on the ground in front of him. “For once, could you answer, please?” he said, like he had perhaps a hundred times. “Please, mother?” he finished, feeling as pathetic as he had when he was a child while setting the last card on the ground.

He looked at the three cards then with a bitter smile before turning the first one.

“XV… The Devil… Of course,” he said, not knowing if he should laugh or not. Instead, he decided to continue. “XVI… The Tower,” he mumbled, this time definitely chuckling as he remembered how confused he’d been the first time he saw the card. What could a tower even mean? What did any of it mean anyway? Yet, Travis continued all the same. “XIII… Death, not ominous at all,” he said, grin still in place, if weak and sad.

He stared at the three cards for a long, very drawn out minute.

And he was left with no answers, like every single time.

“Thanks for nothing, mom,” he said, picking up the cards and setting the deck inside the box – neatly placed in the middle, perfectly stacked, like always – and the box inside the storage space behind the other boxes. He closed the door silently, turning back to the silent apartment that haunted him, or maybe it was him that haunted it. “Thanks for nothing, dad.”

[}-o-{]

“Starting early, huh?” Travis commented with a grin and a chuckle in his voice.

“It was one of those days,” the guy that had placed the order, and was apparently the spokesperson of the trio of… friends? Coworkers seemed to fit better, considering the uniforms, but maybe it was both.

“Say no more,” he said with a commiserating nod. “Well, if you need a little extra for the pick-me-up, there’s some combos for some beer and stuff to eat for later if you guys are still around. Or right now, if you feel like it,” he told them, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb after he’d placed all their drinks on the table.

“Damn, really?” one of the others asked, leaning back to look signs better. “Oh, is the pizza any good?”

“I mean, I’m no chef, but I can make a decent enough pizza that doesn’t taste like cardboard,” Travis replied.

“I’m sold,” the guy told him with a grin. “Later though.”

Half the time, Travis had realized that was enough for most people. Nobody went to a bar expecting great food. So long as what he served them wasn’t shitty, they’d be happy, ecstatic even. It helped that most of the things he served were easy to make and easy to like, like pizza or sandwiches and so on. It really was that simple, funnily enough. And sure, maybe he could cut a corner here or there, but the thought of disappointing a client and maybe not having them come back left a worse taste in his mouth than making less of a profit.

All in all, his numbers were looking good anyway, so Travis wasn’t complaining.

After that was done, there wasn’t much else to do other than washing a glass and a plate from a client that had left a bit before. It was one of the slow days, and it was early, so he only had two tables occupied at the moment and that’d probably continued to be the case through the day, maybe with three or four later at night. Or, at least, that was the pessimistic look Travis had of the future, but maybe he’d have more. So far, he hadn’t had many days like that, but he was still half sure that it was because it was basically a new shop in town, even if the name was the same.

He was expecting the number of clients he got to go down eventually, but, again, that might be his pessimistic outlook, he supposed.

‘Then again, maybe not,’ Travis thought when he heard the door open and he turned to check. ‘Then again, maybe,’ he corrected when he saw Jason walk into the place. The rat was back, apparently, not that he was shocked, admittedly. It was mean to think, let alone say, but the comparison to stray dogs and cats was there and it was appropriate. If one gave them something, they’d just keep coming back.

It seemed to even apply when one made them work for that something.

“Can I help you, little guy?” he asked, leaving what he was doing and approaching the stool where the kid had shuffled over and taken a sit at. Jason visibly had to hold himself back from reacting at the “little guy” part, which only made Travis want to call him that more. “You got enough money today?”

“... No,” he admitted, and that was progress if he’d ever seen some. “... Can we make the same deal again?” Jason asked, somewhat hesitant, but still standing his ground. Idly, Travis wondered if he was unsure because he didn’t know if he’d be offered the same deal again.

“What do you think?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, looking away from the kid and towards the bar. Jason followed his eyes and seemed to realize the problem after a moment. Not many tables he could clean if there were so few customers. Still, watching the kid deflate as he did made Travis want to grimace. Fortunately, he had an idea. “You know how to wash dishes, kid?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

In all honesty, that might be a better way for the boy to pay him for the meal, since that’d mean nobody would see him out in the open working for him. Rats didn’t bring the best of images to a place, even if people in Gotham generally wouldn’t bat an eye at them. Maybe if he looked less like a rat, but it wasn’t like Travis could do something about that.

“Of course, old man,” Jason replied instantly.

“Be honest, kid,” Travis told him flatly, staring at him. “Because if you break one dish, I swear to God…” he left the threat hanging there, which should be enough. Sure enough, after a few seconds, Jason turned away and shuffled nervously where he sat. “Honestly,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. “Come on. I’ll teach you.”

And that was that.

[}-o-{]

He had suspected it’d happen, but somehow, the rat coming back more was still somewhat of a surprise.

Granted, Jason was still… Well, just Jason, a kid in Gotham that was in a shitty situation like many others. Travis couldn’t help thinking though, as he cleaned a glass and looked around the bar, in case anyone needed him. He thought about the kid that had dropped by a few times already in about a week, always striking some kind of deal with him. He thought about what that meant, because rats rarely were good news, one way or another. Either they were scum in the making, growing into the criminals that populated the city, or they were statistics waiting to happen, dying during the freezing winters or victims of one mess or another.

That was the sad, bitter truth of rats.

‘Of Gothamites, really,’ Travis thought with a wry smile. His mind wasn’t able to dwell on that for long, however, since a customer called for him, loudly asking for another round for his table. With a nod and a quick reply, he went back to work, leaving his idle thoughts aside for the moment.

The bar was, surprisingly, doing well. He wasn't rolling on cash, nor customers, but he was still quite happy with his little business. His wildest expectation when he’d gotten started was to make ends meet and instead there Travis was, making actual profit. It left him feeling quite proud of himself every day, even if it was tedious and sometimes dull work. It was a lot different than how it’d all looked back when his father was the owner and he had to work there because… well, it was his father’s place. It meant more now that it was all his. Hell, it wasn’t even that bad a job, really, since there was quite a bit of entertainment to be had while he was at it.

Watching drunk people do their thing could be hilarious, after all.

He’d know a thing or two about that, admittedly.

Granted, there was the occasional bad drunk, but most of the time things were resolved quite peacefully, if annoyingly. Then there were the fun drunks who left a story or two to be told at a later date. On the other, other hand there were the sad drunks, which usually carried tales of their own too, but of a different kind.

Those were the ones that hurt to watch.

All in all, maybe it wasn’t fun all the time, but it was certainly interesting to be a bartender.

“You’re a godsent, man,” one of the men around the table said when he went with his tray and their drinks. His name was Joseph, Travis was pretty sure. He’d been the one that “warned” him about Jason, actually, if he remembered correctly. Travis just gave the guy a grin and a shake of his head. “The only good thing in this dumpster fire of a city, I tell you.”

“You’d tell that to the Joker if he gave you a beer,” Travis replied, getting some chuckles from around the table.

“Now, that’s just hurtful,” the man shot back even as he laughed and picked up his drink. “Here’s to you and your bar, man. See if you can set up a TV, will you?” he said then, passing him some cash that had Travis’s eyebrows shot up. That was a lot more than they owed him for those drinks.

“If I make enough money by the end of the month, I just might,” he replied, getting some agreeing comments from the others around the table and even from other tables. “That and music, maybe.”

“And a hot waitress!” someone called from the corner, receiving quite the animated support from around the bar. For his part, Travis rolled his eyes, sharing his exasperation with a woman on a table close by who was there with a date, probably. Not to insult himself and his place, but his bar wasn’t date place material… If they wanted to go there though, all the better. It was money for him, even if he feared for the poor bastard’s chances with her.

“Bold words from someone that never leaves a tip!” Travis told the guy. A statement that was received with a few laughs and a few joking comments from other people. It was a lively atmosphere that he enjoyed. It made him wonder if that was something his father had looked for, had wanted to create. Because he’d been to other bars and it was usually not that… friendly. Everyone was always in their own world and such. He was growing fonder and fonder of it with every passing day, if he were honest.

‘I’ll probably keep the volume down whenever I get around adding a TV or music. I kinda like the place like this,’ he thought, looking to the side where one table seemed to be drawn into a conversation with another. It was… friendly, and he quite liked that.

He’d been a closed off person for years by then, which was why he hadn’t been terribly torn when he had to move back to his old home with his father’s passing. Travis had liked keeping to himself ever since shit hit the fan, admittedly, which was good, because the struggles of life hadn’t left him much of a choice anyway. He only properly met people occasionally, at best, and friends – or friendly acquaintances – were few and far between. He was fine with that, really he was.

He knew what being close to people could get him.

Still, there was no denying the fact that, at times, he’d miss having his father, proper family, and friends to call or just do stupid shit together. He missed there being people around that he could interact with if he felt like it. He missed all the things that he imagined he’d never get to have again, but at the same time… Well, life kept going and he was good at ignoring problems.

Distractions helped though. And speaking of, he had a job to do. At least it kept him with company around, so that helped with the feeling of loneliness. Maybe it’d even help him recover and all. ‘And people say that bars don’t solve problems,’ he thought jokingly to himself as a smile formed on his face.

[}-o-{]

“I’m telling you, Travis, if you would just wear something a little more form fitting,” the woman sitting at the counter told him, finger trailing the rim of her glass slowly. “You’d be a hit with the-”

“And I’m telling you, Jess, that I like to be comfortable,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes as he continued preparing one of the orders he’d gotten. He was actually a little excited about this one. 

It was the second one the guy had asked for that night and it was one of the mixes that he called the “rare” ones. Which basically meant that it was one of the drinks that he’d put on the menu just because he could and half expected never to get to serve. Call him weird, but he kind of liked the idea of people liking those. It wouldn’t make him more money – probably would do the opposite, really –, but he liked to think that it was something that made his place special in people’s minds. And if his place was special, then he could be, if only by association, right?

“I like to be able to put a pair of pants on without having to wiggle like an idiot and I like being able to put stuff in my pockets. I also like being able to move my arms without having to worry about my shirt tearing itself apart on me,” he continued, turning to look at Jessica with an unimpressed expression. “So, no fitting clothes, sorry.”

“But all the clients you’d get for the eye candy, Travis~!” the woman, clearly a little drunk already, whined.

“I think you’ve got my client base mixed up with some other places, Jess. There’s mostly men around here, so if anything you are the eye candy right now,” he commented with a bland half-smile.

“Flatterer,” Jess told him giggling and almost falling off her stool if not for her friend by her side. Not that the other woman was much help other than to catch her, really. She seemed perfectly content watching her friend talk to him.

That part of the conversation had honestly been the tamest part too. It had gotten very uncomfortable at times, if he were honest. So, he was rather happy to just talk about fashion. ‘Never thought I’d think that, but here I am,’ he thought wryly as he moved to deliver the drink he’d been preparing. ‘Gotham is a damn weird place like that.’

Part of him reminisced about similar situations from when he was a child, but he also remembered less nice things because of it. At least he was pretty sure Jess and Tam weren’t hookers. Dealing with those had been awkard as fuck when he was younger and it’d likely be worse then too. Especially after…

Anyway, he’d have to keep an eye out for Jason on that matter, he thought, glancing towards where the boy was busy cleaning some dishes. That was a lot better than busyboy work for him, Travis had found. Better for the business too, but that was beside the point. Honest.

“Here you go, man, enjoy.”

“Oh, I will,” the man told him, looking about as excited with his second drink as Travis had been preparing it. “We are coming here again, man. I wanna try some of the other drinks some time,” he heard him say to his friend after Travis started moving away, making a smile form on his face.

“Do you play for the other team?” Jess asked him with a raised eyebrow, making him sigh.

“No, Jess. I like women, I promise,” he answered flatly.

“That’s a relief, isn’t it, Tam?” she mumbled in what looked like an attempt at whispering to her friend. She failed miserably, considering her voice came out at about the same volume as it had before.

“Sure is, Jess,” Tam replied, looking more amused by the second. “You know you have a husband, right?” she asked then, laughing a little.

“But you don’t,” Jess shot back and, for once, the friend was put on the back foot. It was Travis' turn to look amused as Tam visibly panicked a little, her eyes shifting between him and her drunk friend. “So, what do you say, Tam? Go for it,” she “whispered” again.

“... Don’t listen to her, please,” Tam pleaded with him after gulping, her face about as red as Travis guessed it could get. It was very amusing. So much so that he almost wanted to try and tease her.

He decided that he’d be merciful though.

“Do you think I’ve been listening to her so far?” he asked her, smiling widely while raising an eyebrow at her. When she only returned the gesture nervously, he rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry. I promise not to believe a word she says.”

“Thanks,” Tam told him before shifting a little.

“You need something?” he asked, tilting her head.

“Er, this drink?” she replied hesitantly, picking up a menu on the counter by her side and pointing at one of the “rare” drinks. Immediately, he brightened up a little.

“Sure thing, give me a bit.”

“Another round, Travis!” a voice called from one of the tables and he looked up.

“Give me a bit, guys!” he shouted back, already getting to work.

“You can serve them first. It looks hard to make,” Tam told him, but he waved her off without looking up from what he was doing.

“Bah, they can wait. It’s always great when someone asks for some of the less popular stuff,” he replied.

“Doesn’t sound like a good mindset for business.”

“Hey, just because it’s work doesn’t mean I can’t have fun too,” Travis told her, shooting her a smile before he turned back to what he was doing. He didn’t want to mess it up and have her never ask for one of his rarer mixes again. That’d suck.

“Good job,” he told Jason when the kid took a step back and showed everything perfectly clean. He even looked proud of himself, which was kind of adorable. “You can take a break for a bit. What combo do you want today?” he asked, watching him ponder on that. The kid always wanted a meal as part of his payment, after all.

“Sandwiches,” was the simple answer he got, followed by the half-suspicious half-uncertain look that Travis had come to expect. He didn’t blame the kid. Good things inspired that in Gothamites. He’d know.

[} Chapter End {]

Hey guys! How’s it going?

A somewhat heavy start for an otherwise fairly calm chapter, I’ll admit. Also not a very heavy chapter in terms of plot, since there’s barely any, but maybe it’s better to let readers know what to expect from me, don’t you, guys? And it’s not like nothing happened either, so I’m pretty happy with the chapter overall. The only thing that worries me a little is how well the chapter flows from one scene to the other, especially the first one, which is very different from the rest of the chapter, as I said before.

For those that don’t know me from previous works… Well, what can I tell you? I’m more of a Slice of Life writer than anything else, which is not to say that my stories have no plot, not at all. It just means that I like to take my time letting my characters have lives outside of the plot and I particularly like showing those lives.

I hope you like that as much as I do, and I also hope you guys enjoyed the chapter.

Discord Link: discord .gg/UTDransjJZ

Random Question: I feel kind of obligated to ask what your favorite alcoholic drink is, if you even have any. I don’t particularly enjoy most of them, but I do like to drink some beer from time to time. Some other light mixes common from where I’m from too. I never could get myself to like wine though, which is funny because most of my family is obsessed with the stuff.

See you.