From the author: This Thing Has Love Interests?
I got in to work early, plucked the Johnny Walker Black from its proud place on the top shelf and hid it behind the extra soda canisters. From that point it was only a matter of time. Diabolical, I know. Any Johnny Walker Black drinkers would announce themselves when their drink wasn't available.
An hour into my shift, a frizzy-haired girl in a glee club sweatshirt dropped onto a barstool. “You only have Johnny Walker Red? Boy, my buddy Shane would be pissed.”
I laid a cocktail napkin down...