PSA: THE PICTURE ABOVE IS RELATED TO THE STORY
Brrring! Brrring! Brrring!
The familiar chime of the bell out front alerted me of yet another customer in my section. Leo, the head bartender who was still at the front counter, pounded on my bell.
I glared at the messages on my phone through blurred vision and put my index fingers up to my eyes to catch any stray tears that fell when I blinked.
Two months.
Those text messages were two months old, and seeing the words on the screen still stung me like it had just happened yesterday.
I looked down at the wetness on my hand and sighed , shutting my eyes tightly as I felt another wave of tears welling up.
Me and my damn hurt feelings. I had to pull myself together.
Under no circumstances could I afford to smudge my makeup with tears, not on O'Hairy's watch.
If my boss saw me go onstage with puffy eyes like I did the day of the breakup, I would never hear the end of it.
I slapped myself in the face vigorously and immediately regretted it, cupping my cheek with both hands.
"Ow," I whispered, as my right cheek heated up.
Brrring! Brrring! Brrring!
"I'm coming! Damn!" I cried, standing abruptly and carefully wiping my lashes to remove any wet mascara.
The short, wooden chair scraped against the tile in protest, and I let out a shaky breath, watching in silence as the last of my phone battery drained out and the screen went black.
I picked it up and shoved the phone in my pant pocket so aggressively that it didn't even stay in. I stumbled and fumbled with it, desperately trying to catch the device before it could hit the ground.
When I finally got my hands on it, I stuck the phone inside my bra before subconsciously pulling on the ends of my vest and looking around to make sure that no one had seen me struggling.
As I made my way out of the break room, I couldn't help but roll my eyes when I heard another series of ringing.
Why was Leo going Chris Brown on my bell? My shift at the bar was practically over, in fact, I was already supposed to be in my dressing room.
But instead of being in your dressing room, you're out here shedding tears for somebody who probably doesn't even remember your name. You dumb bitch.
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