Smoke Break
Jamie leaned over the bartop.
“What?” she shouted.
“Two lemon drops,” said the woman, barely audible over the thrum and zazzle of the music.
“Coming right up,” said Jamie, as she started mixing the drinks.
Moving up and down the bar, she took orders, ran credit cards, picked dollar bills off of the bartop, and wiped it down with a wet rag every couple rounds. The music cycled through all of the current hits mixed in with some remixes from the 2000s. A crowd of mostly college students twisted and bounced to the beat. A haze of smoke, sweat, perfume, and alcoholic vapors hung in the air.
Keaton emerged from a door marked “Staff Only Beyond This Point,” and he ducked beneath the barrier to the bar.
“You’re up,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Jamie. She handed a receipt over for one of the patrons to sign. Once she had punched the tip into the register, she checked out for her break.
Jamie stepped out from behind the bar, and started weaving her way to the outdoor patio. It was winter, so the outdoor bar wasn’t open, but a handful of drunken couples snuggled and talked beneath the falling snow. Jamie passed them. She left through a door in the fence, and found a couple of coworkers huddled around the nearest light fixture.
“Hey, look who made it,” said Bill.
“Long night?” asked Ronda.
“Hell yeah,” said Jamie. She settled in next to Ronda, who passed Jamie a cigarette.
“Fridays, am I right?” said Ronda. Jamie nodded and inhaled. She felt a cloud of warmth spreading out from her lungs.
“You should have seen those frat guys last weekend,” said Bill. “Half of ‘em were underage, and their IDs were super fake. I’m talking laminated printer paper fake. Normally, I wouldn’t care, so long as they looked like they tried, but Leo was looking over my shoulder all night long, so I couldn’t just let them in.
“Anyway, they were already a few drinks in, stumbling around, making a scene. I told one of them that I was confiscating his fake, and he got all in my face about it. I was playing it cool and collected like, told him not to touch me. Kid pulls out a fucking switchblade like we’re rocking in the 50s or something.”
“Oh shit!” said Jamie.
“Just wait,” Ronda said.
“And I fucking let loose,” continued Bill. He punched the air, and said, “Pow! Pow! We’re on the ground. I’m trying to keep my hand on his with the knife. The crowd starts screaming and yelling, and now his friends are trying to pull us apart.”
“Oh my god,” said Jamie, “did you get hurt?”
“Nah, but he sure did.”
“Spoken like a fucking action hero,” said Ronda. “Come on, get to the best part?”
“I’m getting there, I’m getting there.”
“There’s more?” asked Jamie.
“So, Leo sees everything that’s going down, and it’s like a nightmare for him. He and I both know even if nothing happens, we have to call the cops on this fucker. The whole situation gets calmed down, and some of the frat kids are holding their friend down. Turns out, the knife was just plastic.”
“What the fuck?” shouted Jamie.
“One of those prop knives for West Side Story, or Halloween, or something,” said Bill. They were all laughing now. “Honestly, I felt a little let down. Here I thought I was in real danger.”
“What kind of idiot brings a prop knife to a bar?” said Ronda between fits of laughter.
“The kind who wants to get tackled to the ground and arrested,” said Jamie.
“Amen to that,” Bill said, lifting his cigarette as a toast.
Ronda looked at her phone, and said, “Ah, shit. I gotta get back in there.”
“We won’t miss you, Ronnie,” said Jamie.
“Ha ha,” Ronda said, flipping them all off as she walked away.
“My break’s up too,” said Bill.
“Aww. It was just getting fun,” said Jamie. Bill tossed his cigarette butt into the snow. “Don’t beat up any more drunk kids ‘til I get back.”
“Better hurry, I might get tired,” Bill said with a wink. Jamie blew him a kiss, and he mimed snatching it from the air, then rubbed his hand up and down his body.
“Gross,” said Jamie, smiling. “Careful, we’re still at the workplace.”
“I’m always careful.”
Bill walked back through the gate, and it swung shut behind him.
Jamie finished off her cigarette, then scanned through her messages from the last hour. Most of it was bullshit. Fifteen-past-midnight struck, and she went back inside.
She made it back to the edge of the dance floor when a blond man with a wispy mustache grabbed her arm.
“Hey,” said Jamie, yanking her arm free, but the man started shouting before Jamie could say anything else.
“Have you seen my rat?” he asked.
“What?”
“I-- uh-- my pet rat. His name is Pinky, like the ghost.”
“You brought a rat to a club?” asked Jamie, incredulous.
“Have you seen a rat around here? Can you help me find him?”
The man was sweating, and his eyes drifted anytime he tried to focus on Jamie’s face.
“Fuck me,” muttered Jamie, “this is just my luck. Keep it down, and we’ll find your stupid rat. Can you just look for him, but don’t say anything?”
The man nodded.
“I thought it would be fine, but Pinky just freaked out when we got here,” the man continued. Jamie scanned the crowd for Leo, and waved him over. “The music-- the strobe lights-- he just freaked, man!”
“What’s wrong?” asked Leo. The three of them stepped into a corner away from the crowd.
“We need to find a fucking rat,” said Jamie.
“I’m sorry, what?” asked Leo.
Jamie shoved the blond man forward, and said, “He’ll explain. I’m gonna find a bucket or something.”
Jamie walked away as the blond man began a slurred story about his pet rat. Leo kept a polite face, but Jamie could see his temper wearing thin beneath the mask.
Ducking into a custodial closet, Jamie saw a pile of buckets and rags. They kept them handy for cleaning up vomit. As she was grabbing one of them, there came a sharp squeak from the back of the closet.
Jamie screamed. Something small, white, and furry darted from beneath the shelf. It topped a stack of cups, and brushed past Jamie’s leg. She dropped down, swinging the bucket to scoop up the rat, but she missed. It squeezed through the gap underneath the closet door, and disappeared.
“You little bastard,” Jamie muttered.
She swung the door open and spotted the patch of white fur zip to the side. Jamie slammed the door shut behind her as she chased after it.
“Leo!” she called, pointing.
Leo looked up at her, then pushed the young man aside, hurrying in the direction Jamie had pointed.
A group of girls in short dresses screamed as the rat scurried between them. The girls scattered, swinging purses at their legs as Jamie ran past. She was trying not to look panicked, but the rat was drawing all the attention.
Jamie and Leo ran to opposite ends of the room. Jamie could see him giving orders to a couple of bouncers by the door, pointing them towards the floor. They started to spread out across the room.
The rat ran into Jamie’s field of view again after having disappeared for a moment. It glowed blue beneath the blacklights, and seemed to strobe in different colors as lights danced across the room.
Jamie lunged with the bucket. The rat saw her coming, and darted to the side, onto the dance floor. Jamie’s heart sank.
For a couple of seconds, there wasn’t a response from the dancers. Inebriated men and women continued to grind against each other, writhing to the deafening beat of the music. Jamie could feel the floor shaking with the stomping of feet. Then came one scream, and the crowd seemed to turn towards a woman. More screams rippled out from the center, and a loose flow of people began pouring out.
It was like someone had reversed the pull of gravity that was keeping everyone on the dance floor. Suddenly, a hundred people were repelled outwards, and Jamie fought against the outgoing stream.
The house lights came on, muting the vibrant scene. The music kept playing, but nobody was dancing.
Jamie emerged onto the dance floor, and saw bloody heel-prints scattered out from the center. The rat’s torso and head were crushed. There was a smeared trail leading from where it had first been stepped on to where it now lay.
Jamie stood next to the corpse, and felt dizzy. She held up the bucket just in time, and puked.