Read Online Super Powereds: Year 3 by Drew Hayes - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Drew Hayes
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(not that he’d expected a wealth of experience), though it did have more than he usually saw in these applicants. This kid had at least worked a part-time job in high school, which was something. Unfortunately, it had been at a pet store, which wasn’t exactly the same set of skills needed in the establishment Roger owned. The Six-Shooter was a western themed bar and dance club near the edge of town, several miles from Lander. Unlike many of the nearby bars, The Six-Shooter didn’t put up with fake IDs or other such shenanigans. Roger ran a club, which was sleazy by definition, but he liked his sleazy club to be clean, safe, and free of harassment from local authorities.
The single sheet of paper made a light rustle as Roger set it on his desk. He turned his attention to the kid, no, the young man sitting in front of him. Roger was predisposed to thinking of his employees as kids, but that wasn’t a good description of the male currently looking awkward in the silence of their interview. He was tall and blond, with medium-sized shoulders and an obviously muscular build. Even if Roger didn’t know Chad Taylor had powers, he would still have been sure this younger male could kick his ass. Chad was handsome too, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. That was a check in his favor: looks made sales and tips go up in any service job.
“I notice you’ve never had any experience as a server,” Roger said, the first words spoken since their initial greeting.
“That is correct,” Chad confirmed.
“Normally, that’s not such a big deal—waiting on tables is pretty easy, as long as you’ve got the head for it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pain in the ass and the customers can be awful, it’s just not a difficult skill to learn. The problem here is that you’re applying for a bartending position.”
Chad nodded, his face curiously impassive. Roger wondered what this guy’s ability was. Technically, it was illegal to ask if someone was a Super, just like you couldn’t ask their age or religion, but since Roger went out of his way to specifically hire them, he considered it more along the lines of bad manners to probe.
“What made you think this would be a good fit?”
“Angela DeSoto was quite adamant that it was the right position for me,” Chad replied. “I asked for her advice, since she’s been working since her own junior year, and she immediately insisted I apply here as a bartender. No other options were suggested. I trust Angela’s advice, so I followed it.”
Roger gave a nod of his own. Angela was one of his best shot girls: sexy, sassy, and able to put the fear of Lucifer into any patron who got handsy. She had come in earlier with a glowing recommendation for Chad; however, she’d somehow left out his overall lack of experience.
“Look, let me level with you. Bartending well takes a great memory for recalling drink mixes, excellent organization for getting everyone served, and at least decent dexterity for pouring. Charm is nice too, but as a male bartender, people will expect you to be efficient more than flirty. We both know you aren’t exactly a regular Joe, so you tell me: are those skills you think you’ve got?”
Chad reached across the desk and plucked four pens from the coffee mug where Roger stored his writing utensils. He lobbed the first one in the air, then followed suit with the others, one by one. As each descended, he moved it along from hand to hand, until he was juggling all four pens.
“A Royal Flush is one part Crown, one part cranberry, and a half part peach schnapps, amounts adjusted based on whether it is a shot or a drink. A Vegas Bomb is Crown, peach schnapps, and Red Bull. A Cosmopolitan is vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and a squeeze of lime.”
Chad went on for a minute and a half before Roger raised his hand and signaled him to stop. Chad complied, catching all the pens in one quick motion and carefully placing them back in the cup.
“Since we’ve
The single sheet of paper made a light rustle as Roger set it on his desk. He turned his attention to the kid, no, the young man sitting in front of him. Roger was predisposed to thinking of his employees as kids, but that wasn’t a good description of the male currently looking awkward in the silence of their interview. He was tall and blond, with medium-sized shoulders and an obviously muscular build. Even if Roger didn’t know Chad Taylor had powers, he would still have been sure this younger male could kick his ass. Chad was handsome too, high cheekbones and a strong jaw. That was a check in his favor: looks made sales and tips go up in any service job.
“I notice you’ve never had any experience as a server,” Roger said, the first words spoken since their initial greeting.
“That is correct,” Chad confirmed.
“Normally, that’s not such a big deal—waiting on tables is pretty easy, as long as you’ve got the head for it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a pain in the ass and the customers can be awful, it’s just not a difficult skill to learn. The problem here is that you’re applying for a bartending position.”
Chad nodded, his face curiously impassive. Roger wondered what this guy’s ability was. Technically, it was illegal to ask if someone was a Super, just like you couldn’t ask their age or religion, but since Roger went out of his way to specifically hire them, he considered it more along the lines of bad manners to probe.
“What made you think this would be a good fit?”
“Angela DeSoto was quite adamant that it was the right position for me,” Chad replied. “I asked for her advice, since she’s been working since her own junior year, and she immediately insisted I apply here as a bartender. No other options were suggested. I trust Angela’s advice, so I followed it.”
Roger gave a nod of his own. Angela was one of his best shot girls: sexy, sassy, and able to put the fear of Lucifer into any patron who got handsy. She had come in earlier with a glowing recommendation for Chad; however, she’d somehow left out his overall lack of experience.
“Look, let me level with you. Bartending well takes a great memory for recalling drink mixes, excellent organization for getting everyone served, and at least decent dexterity for pouring. Charm is nice too, but as a male bartender, people will expect you to be efficient more than flirty. We both know you aren’t exactly a regular Joe, so you tell me: are those skills you think you’ve got?”
Chad reached across the desk and plucked four pens from the coffee mug where Roger stored his writing utensils. He lobbed the first one in the air, then followed suit with the others, one by one. As each descended, he moved it along from hand to hand, until he was juggling all four pens.
“A Royal Flush is one part Crown, one part cranberry, and a half part peach schnapps, amounts adjusted based on whether it is a shot or a drink. A Vegas Bomb is Crown, peach schnapps, and Red Bull. A Cosmopolitan is vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice, and a squeeze of lime.”
Chad went on for a minute and a half before Roger raised his hand and signaled him to stop. Chad complied, catching all the pens in one quick motion and carefully placing them back in the cup.
“Since we’ve
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