Cindy

Cindy hated working Fridays.

It wasn’t the sticky floors or stench of stale beer – though both were bad enough – it was the people. Fridays brought out the absolute worst kind of dive bar patrons: carousing finance bros, broke college kids that didn’t tip for their mixed shots, and bickering young women who toed the line of making a scene before realizing they were “bessst friendssss.”

Then there were Brie and Tess, her coworkers who treated bartending like a competitive sport, though their idea of “winning” seemed to involve doing as little as humanly possible while batting their eyelashes at men too drunk to notice how basic they were.

“Cindy – can you cover the bar for a sec?” they chirped at her, disappearing into the back to solicit special treatment from their petty tyrant of a manager, Maggie. This left Cindy to juggle eight drink orders, multiple broken glasses, and the unwelcome advances of the creeps the useless pair had over-served.

Maggie loafed around the corner from the back, resembling a toad squishing its way out of a swamp – slow, deliberate, and leaving an invisible trail of smugness in her wake. She scanned the various stations, no doubt looking some deficiency to criticize. She swiped a finger along a stretch of bar as she approached, and stopped in front of Cindy to inspect the residue she collected with a squint.

“Cindy,” she barked, examining her thumb and forefinger as she rubbed them together “with the band coming tonight I’m going to need you to be last cut. The girls are going to clock out early so they can watch the show.”

Knowing it was pointless to protest, Cindy took the blow silently, responding with a tight nod.

“And try to keep up tonight,” she smirked, “apparently these guys are a big deal. Place is gonna be packed.” Cindy could feel the sadism radiating off Maggie – an aura that remained after she returned to the back.

“Not as packed as your fat ass into those jeans…” Cindy muttered to herself.

“Jeeeesus Cindy!”

Gus was knelt next to her behind the bar, sliding a row of Miller Highlife into the minifridge. He looked up at her with three bottles in each hand, somewhere between cackling and gasping. Cindy hadn’t noticed him down there.

“Shut up Gus, we both know you hate her too.”

“Hey – I’m just the barback. I’m here till close every night, and I don’t complain. I’m a ray of sunshine,” he teased, resuming bottle stocking.

Cindy and Gus tagged-teamed service as people began filtering in for the show, their movements behind the bar a sort of choreographed chaos, like a budget ballet set in a dive bar. Gus slid past her with a tray of glasses, gave an exaggerated twirl for effect, and sang in a falsetto, “Cinderelly, Cinderelly, night and day it’s Cinderelly!”

Cindy didn’t even look up. “Keep it up, I’ll make you clean the bathrooms again.”

“Oh, the tyranny!” Gus clutched a pint glass to his chest as if she’d stabbed him in the heart, sidestepping just as Cindy reached for the soda gun.

Unfortunately this was not the first time they were forced to achieve a kind of survival-born synchronicity. Gus was the only reason Cindy didn’t feel like she was slogging through quicksand most nights, though she’d never admit it out loud. He had a knack for deflating the misery of endless drink orders and sticky counters with his idiot charm. Not that it helped her keep up—it just made her less likely to crawl into the ice machine and disappear forever.

The bar was loud with the buzz of anticipation; word had apparently spread that Prince Charming was playing tonight, and the crowd – a mix of regulars and outer-borough hipsters – was swelling by the minute. Brie and Tess were already mixed in with them, not bothering to check in with Cindy before clocking out.

Cindy was trying to figure out how she could secretly spit in the drinks they inevitably ordered from her when the band arrived. She caught a glimpse of them as they passed – four scruffy looking dudes, the smell of cigarettes and weed wafting off them as they pressed through the crowd towards the small stage. One of them, the obvious front-man, seemed less aloof and smiley than the others. He had a kind of effortless charisma that made people turn their heads. Although Cindy definitely noticed him, he didn’t look her way, which she figured was probably for the best. The last thing she needed was another guy with an ego to match his jawline. That must be the prince himself, she thought.

Brie and Tess on the other hand, were practically salivating. They abandoned their hightop in the corner of the bar and drifted towards the stage like moths to a flame. Cindy scoffed at them, and resumed her work. She didn’t care about the music, or at least, that’s what she told herself. But as the first chords filled the room, she found herself pausing, just for a moment. The frontman’s voice was rough and raw, cutting through the noise like a blade. There was something magnetic about him, something that made Cindy’s chest tighten in a way she didn’t want to examine too closely.

But the moment didn’t last. The crowd surged towards the stage, and Cindy was pulled back into the grind. She worked through the set, barely glancing at the band, though she couldn’t help but notice the way the singer’s eyes scanned the room during the quieter moments, as if were looking for someone.

By the time their set was over, Cindy was dead on her feet. The crowd thinned out, but Brie and Tasha were still floating around, obviously drunk and looking to get an opportunity with the singer. The bar’s speakers fired up again, and the bar resumed its normal vibe. Cindy turned to exchange a look with Gus, and they exhaled in unison. They had survived.

At that moment, a groan sounded from under the bar, and a jet of grime shot up from under the dishwasher, dousing Cindy. Too tired to react, she stood there stinking and dripping.

“Oh no, sorry Cindy…I might have overloaded it,” Gus grumbled, racing to grab dishtowels from the other end of the bar.

“Yikes - that’s not good.”

Cindy turned and saw the bar’s owner, Faye, standing next to her behind the bar. It was weird - she didn’t even know Faye was there that night, let alone behind the bar with her. Cindy wordlessly shrugged at her, dazed.

Faye was cool. The kind of person who didn’t need to raise her voice to get people to listen. She ran the place with a quiet authority that somehow made you feel like you wanted to impress her, even when you were just scrubbing puke off the bathroom floor. Faye wasn’t around much—she usually left the day-to-day nonsense to Maggie—but when she did show up, it was like a cool breeze cutting through the muggy grind of the bar.

Faye gave Cindy a look that could only be described as knowing, like she’d already pieced together exactly how the night was going to go. “You’ve done enough for now,” she said, her voice low but firm. “Go get cleaned up. I left you something in your locker.”

Cindy blinked at her. “What? I can’t—there’s no way Maggie—”

“Forget Maggie.” Faye leaned in, her smile laced with mischief. “I own the place, remember? Now, go. The bar will survive for ten minutes without you.”

Still dazed, Cindy set down her shaker and slipped into the back, the bar noise fading as she wound her way through the narrow hallway to the staff lockers. When she opened her locker door, a neatly folded bundle of clothes greeted her—nothing flashy, just a sleek black dress and a pair of shoes she didn’t recognize.

The shoes caught her eye immediately. They were Doc Martens, but somehow shinier, almost sparkling under the harsh fluorescent light of the breakroom. They looked like the kind of shoes that had never seen the sticky floors of a bar or the grime of a city street.

Cindy stared at them for a moment, half-expecting them to start glowing or levitating. She touched one tentatively, her fingers brushing over the smooth leather, and felt a strange hum of energy, like the shoes were waiting for her.

“What the hell,” she muttered to herself, pulling the dress and boots out of the locker. If nothing else, it would be nice to feel like a human being for a few hours.

When she came back out, dressed and laced up, the transformation wasn’t dramatic, but it was enough. The dress fit like it had been tailored for her, and the boots—well, they didn’t just fit. They felt right, as if they’d been waiting their whole lives to be on her feet.

Faye was waiting by the bar, arms crossed, her lips curled in a satisfied smirk. “Better?”

Cindy nodded, still processing. “Yeah. Better.”

“Good,” Faye said. “Now, go have some fun.”

Cindy hesitated, looking back at the sea of customers, but Faye waved her off. “Don’t worry about it. Gus and I can handle it.”

Not wanting to leave any room for second thoughts, Cindy gave Faye a quick salute and poured herself a pilsner before circling out from behind the bar. She spotted Tess and Brie standing with the band, both of them clearly several drinks past charming, teetering on their heels and tossing back their hair with the kind of confidence that only came in liquid form. Brie was giggling at something, clutching the lead singer's arm like a barnacle on a rock.

Cindy hung back for a second, watching the train wreck unfold. Brie punctuated her slurred flirtation with a high-pitched laugh that made nearby conversations pause, while Tess's drunken swaying threatened to take down a nearby bar stool. If their embarrassing behavior wasn’t so delicious, Cindy would have softly escorted them out of the bar and into an Uber.

“Oh thank God for you two,” Cindy said as she approached, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “What would I have done without all your help tonight? Truly, the backbone of the establishment.”

Tess turned to her, blinking slowly like she was trying to process a foreign language.

“Cindy….? What are you *hyuk* wearing?” she croaked.

A series of insults and snide remarks flashed through Cindy’s mind, but before she could pick one to slap Tess with, the singer squirmed out of Brie's grip and extended a hand towards her.

“Hey – I’m Liam. Thanks for keeping the booze flowing during our show.”

Cindy stared at Liam’s outstretched hand for a second, impressed by his escape maneuver. His hand hung there, a little calloused and not at all manicured the way she’d imagined a rockstar’s might be. She sighed inwardly and shook it.

“Cindy,” she said. “And you’re welcome. Somebody had to keep it together tonight.”

Liam chuckled, the sound low and easy. “Yeah – looks like we’ve got some catching up to do.” He glanced at Tess, who was now leaning heavily on Brie and mumbling something about a broken heel. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Cindy smirked. “Oh, very smooth – I’m starting to see why you’re called Prince Charming.”

“I’ll have you know that wasn’t my idea – blame the dummer.”

They chuckled and turned to post up at the bar. One drink turned into two, then three, and soon Cindy found herself laughing with Liam in a way she hadn’t in years. He wasn’t like she expected – no ego, no posturing, just an easygoing charm that made her forget, for a little while, that she was stuck in a dead-end dive bar job with a bunch of terrible idiots.

Liam was such a good time that she lost track of time. When she glanced at the clock over the bar, her stomach dropped.

“Oh, shit. I have to go,” she said, sliding off the barstool and grabbing her bag.

“Go where?”

“Home,” she said, fumbling for her phone to check the bus schedule. “If I don’t catch the last bus, I’m walking 4 miles.” She popped up from the bar and grabbed her jacket in a flurry.

“Hold on – can I get your number at least?” Liam asked.

“Maybe next time – sorry I have to go like now. Bye Liam.”

Cindy sprinted out the door, not noticing that she’d left her phone sitting next to Liam on the bar.

The next morning was rough. It had been a long time since she’d drank like that, and the fact that she had to go right back to the bar to open up for a double with Tess and Brie was excessive punishment. She scoured her apartment looking for the dress and boots to bring back to Faye, but they were nowhere to be found in her shoebox apartment.

She arrived at the bar in a haze. By the time Liam walked in with her phone, she’d barely mustered the energy to fake a smile. She walked towards him, but he was intercepted by Brie and Tess.

“Hey,” he said, looking between them. “Sorry – I was trying to return this to someone I met here last night, but I uh…don’t remember much. We had a few drinks, and it was dark in here…”

Tess squealed with delight “Oh my god thank you! That must be mine. Here let me see..” she tried to unlock the phone, but the FaceID didn’t work for her.

“No way, that’s totally my phone –“ Brie snarled, snatching the phone from her. Again, the FaceID vibrated the phone’s rejection. Liam took the phone back with a disappointed look.

Cindy sighed, stepping between them. “Hi…that’s mine.” She took the phone from Liam, and unlocked it. Tess and Brie rolled their eyes and retreated to the back, no doubt to gossip with Maggie.

Liam's face lit up. “Oh! Right. Cindy.” He grinned, scratching the back of his neck. “Well since I’ve embarrassed myself – let me try to make it up to you. One thing I do remember from last night is you saying how much you hate this place. I actually know a guy who is opening up a place a few blocks from here – Prince Charming already has a few shows lined up. He’s looking for a manager. I could introduce you…”

Cindy blinked, then smiled for real. “Sure. But first, let me give you my number. You didn’t have to steal my phone to get it, you know.”