Bartenders Make Excellent Therapists, Adrian Bryant

June 23, 2012
9:30 pm

Finally, he was able to call this place his own. After moving into town, Anthony O’Neill was finally able to call this bar his own. Even though he had had the deed in his name for a few weeks now, it had taken a while to go through the staff information as well as switch things around to where he wanted them. Now the dance floor was the main attraction with tables surrounding it. There were two large bars, one at both ends of the club that were lit up and fully stocked with everything from wine coolers to champagne, from beer to whiskey. Tony had also chipped in the money for a brand new speaker system that really had the music flowing as people socialized and danced.

With the music blasting and the lights flashing, Saturday night was proving to be busier than what Anthony had been expecting. The new owner stood proudly behind the bar of his club. The old owner had told him that Saturdays were busy, but that had been an understatement. There were people dancing, drinking and having a great time. The night couldn’t have been more perfect, he had been given several numbers from beautiful younger women, though he probably wouldn’t call them.

Everything had been going right tonight. The dark haired man looked around at all of his clientele, most were happy and having a good time. There was one gentleman over at the corner of the bar that looked absolutely miserable. Tony scratched his goatee thoughtfully as he decided on a game plan of how to handle a depressed client. After a few moments of contemplation the Texan grabbed the bottle nearest him, and walked over to lean against the granite counter. Looking at the man, Anthony could tell that something was bugging him. Flipping a shot glass top up, the bartender poured the man a shot of Crown before asking, “Woman troubles?” That was the usual problem men had. Women would come into their lives and then wreck them. Or at least with Anthony that was the case. “It’s on the house,” He told his customer before handing the stranger the shot.

As soon as the words had come out of his mouth, Anthony felt like the cliché bartender who would be all ears for his customers. That’s what he was though? The man didn’t have the heart to look the other way when someone was hurting. Leave it to an O’Neill to be the sap who comforts complete strangers. Oh how he wished it had been a hot chick rather than this man who looked to be close to his age.

Adrian sighed as he pulled his Acura into the parking lot of The Vibe. He wasn't really a drinker, but he needed to get out of the house. He needed to get away from all of the pain that was in his house, and after kissing Courtney on the brow, he grabbed his coat and went out the door. He had his phone on him in case she needed him, but as he slipped his keys into his pocket, the dark skinned Brit silently prayed that he would have this night to himself. Don't get him wrong, the college professor was as devoted to his wife as he could be, but he was tired of walking on eggshells and having to drive to the office in order to feel a little bit of what was once a normal life. After showing his ID at the entrance, the Brit made his way through the dance club and suddenly wondered why he was there instead of at the Three Crowns or Lattimer's.

Sighing as he sat down at the bar, Adrian ordered a soda and sat there, contemplating the meaning of why he and his wife couldn't conceive when he heard it. "Women troubles?" Looking up from his Coke, the Brit arched an eyebrow and gave a throaty chuckle, suddenly wondering if all bartenders were like those cheesy ones in the movies. "You don't know the half of it," he said, bringing his soda up to his lips and taking a drink. "If only it were just the woman that was the problem." Ow. That even sounded harsh coming from his own lips. He loved his wife in every shape of the word, but what he didn't love was feeling like a failure as a husband. He had seen his own father do that to his mother before she died.

There was no way he was doing that to his own wife.

Not while he was still living and breathing like a red blooded male.

Looking at the shot offered to him, Adrian took a deep breath before downing the rum and shaking his head as it burned on the way down. Licking his lips to get the aftertaste off of them, the Brit said, "You don't really need to do that, I can pay." Which was a truth, while he had money in his bank account, it was really for other things. Handing the shot glass back to the barkeep, Adrian said, "Adrian Bryant, pleasure to meet you."

The man's chuckle was all it took for Anthony to realize that he had indeed stepped into the cheesy bar tender role. Seeing as he was already there, there was no point in trying to go back now. His role as the cliche bar tender accepted, Tony focused on the most important part, his customer.

If only one woman was the problem? Now wasn't that the truth? All men could know to avoid the trouble maker and go on with their lives. A man could dream couldn't he? Nodding slowly, Tony couldn't help but agree. "Ain't that the truth? What can you do though? You can't live with them, and life would be damn boring without them." The twenty seven year old said, a sympathetic smile on his face. The poor man looked like he had been through hell. "Well I know it's corny as hell but you're welcome to talk about it if you'd like. I'm not gonna try to force it out of you though." He added.

Turning to start rearranging the liquors from oldest to newest, Tony nodded as the man said that he could pay. "You could, that much I believe. But you won't because you're money's no good for that one. And I'm in charge of ringing up the tab," He told the man with a grin audible in his voice. "Honestly I think everyone deserves a free shot ever once in a while." It was true, Anthony wished that one of the bartenders would have given a damn when they had seen him in their establishments after another bad break up.

His attention back on organizing the liquors Anthony almost didn't hear the man tell him his name. Turning back to the man he reached across the bar in an offered hand shake. "Pleasure's all mine Adrian. I'm Anthony O'Neill, owner of this club," He said with a grin. The man was proud of the way he had turned this bar around. Sure the busy days were still the same but his new arrangement had managed to pull in a few more customers. "So what can I do for you tonight?" Tony asked, pulling out another glass in case Adrian wanted something else.

With a quick glance back to the liquor racks, Anthony decided that he could take care of it tomorrow while it was dead. After all, the customers are the most important part of business. Keep them happy, and they would keep coming back, maybe even bring friends! With some luck he might be able to make Adrian one of those customers. Hell maybe even a friend by the end of the night. God knew that Tony had enough women for friends, he needed some testosterone before he was drowned in estrogen.