Serving up piss-warm beer because the fridge broke isn't exactly how I wanted to spend my summer, but that's just how it is in this world; I need to make money somehow, even if that means working for some old man owner that doesn't give a damn about the place, or about me, for that matter. It seems like the entire place is always just one more incident away from falling apart, and yet it somehow endures. Shit, I think I'm the only actual employee of the place, since its opening hours are rather limited and coincide entirely with my shifts. I guess if you're going to make money with a place like this, you got to save at every end.
Of course, the summer heat has done quite a number on the usual amount of people showing up. In fact, we're down to just two, both regulars: there's Paul, one of the most die-hard regulars I've ever seen, and some other guy I never got the name of because he seems to constantly just drink himself to sleep here and I'm just supposed to tolerate it because he pays. So for all intents and purposes, it's just me and Paul, because that other guy isn't waking up unless there's an earthquake. So while I serve Paul another glass of beer, I let out a deep sigh, just to let my frustrations out a bit. "Bad day, or just the usual?" Paul asks. He's always being quite considerate with me, and honestly, I don't even know why. Still, I appreciate it nonetheless.
"Same shit. Just another day sweating my ass off," I tell him, the weariness clearly audible in my tone.
He nods solemnly in return, taking a sip of his beer. "You need a vacation," he replies. "The bags under your eyes are getting bags of their own, I think, and that just ain't right."
This, I think, marks the fifth time this week that he's told me I need a vacation, and God, I know he's right, but that's just not the way things work. "I can't just take a vacation, Paul, you know that, the old man would never let me," I respond, as I usually do when this topic comes up, but this time, he seems more insistent somehow.
"No, I'm serious, Art. The fuck is he going to do? Fire you? He'd have nobody to run this place! I'll bet you that if you just tossed the snoozer over there out, closed the place up, and just didn't go to work for a week, all he'd do is bitch at you for a minute, then grumble and that would be it. Shit, how about this? Close up right now, and I'll take you out to the mountains with me. Away from everything. We'll have a week together to relax. I think the mountain air would do you great," he says, and I can tell he means it.
Honestly, I shouldn't even think about accepting this, it's a stupid and risky idea. And yet... I can't shake the feeling that I want this. "Why are you offering me this?" I ask him, wondering what exactly his game is.
Paul takes a moment, then looks me square in the eyes. "I like you, Art. Why do you think I come to this fucking place? Because it's not the drinks, and it sure as fuck ain't the decor, if you know what I mean. You're a good guy, and I think you deserve a hell of a lot better than this dump. Job market sucks, I know, so I feel like I'm doing my part helping you out here," he explains.
...Fuck it. Fuck it! I guess I really don't have much to lose here, so I give him a nod and get up from behind the bar, grabbing the sleeping guy and dumping him out of the door. He doesn't even wake up. Closing up the bar takes like three minutes, because there's fuck all for security measures here, and I finish up by hanging a sign on the door that simply reads "Bartender's on vacation, check back in a week". Within another two minutes, I'm sitting in Paul's vehicle, a rugged piece that's fairly small, but seems to be be made with resiliency in mind. I never thought I'd just throw my hands up and just quit for a week, but by God, I'm doing it now.
The drive takes us quite the distance, over highway, dirt roads, and eventually forest trails, and all the while, we find ourselves talking quite a bit. All this time, I've never really seen Paul as much more than just a regular at the bar, even if he's a more recognizable one, but he definitely sees me as something more than just a bartender. I certainly learn a lot about him on the drive, from him actually working in construction, which is something I never would've guessed, looking at his girlish figure, to him being a bit of an amateur survivalist. It's so weird listening to him telling me that he's got a big pile of firewood next to his cabin and then looking at him. Long blonde hair, soft, feminine facial features, and of course his unzipped leather jacket showing off his hairless chest. The guy couldn't look much less manly if he tried.
When we finally arrive at the cabin, I am downright blown away. Stepping out of the car, I take a deep breath and feel instantly rejuvenated from how fresh it is. The cabin sits right down at the bottom of some large mountains, surrounded by forest, with a large river running past it. Paul also told me that about fifteen minutes of walking away, there's a beautiful lake we can go visit at some point. We then enter the cabin, and again, I find myself very surprised. It looks incredibly comfortable, with good looking furniture, a kitchen, some large bookshelves that are just stacked with stuff to read, and there are even two bedrooms. "I like living rough at times, but sometimes, it's nice to just unwind and relax, and that's what this cabin's for. So, now, what do you wanna do? Just take a break for a while, or do you wanna get out? We could fish in the river, I got some rods we can use, or we could go out and chop some trees, gather some berries... we don't need to do any of that, I've got plenty supplies, but I think the action would do you good. Some good old honest work out in the woods. Up to you, Art," Paul says.