well, well
Nick is standing behind the bar and laughing at me as I walk in. "Why -" I set my stuff down " - do you look like the cat that at the canary?" I love this saying because it sounds deranged coming out of the mouth of someone who isn't collecting social security. "Rough night last night?" Nick is always on the verge of laughter. He looks like a kid tasting ice cream for the first time. It'd be cute, except his delight is a derivative of my pain. "Unbelievable," I say rubbing my eyes. Then I add a warning. "Don't start with me." He just chuckles because he knows I don't mean it. He's one of the few people that "gets it" here in LA. I'm going to grouse for a few minutes but I'm just playing it up for my own amusement. Besides, it's me and Nick working together - hungover or not, I’ll have a good shift. I begin my opening side work: setting up chairs, getting condiments, filling pitchers of wate...