Waiting
One bourbon manhattan with an orange twist spattered across a starched blue collared button-up isn't the worst thing to happen at Jimmy V's this week. Not after how Janelle quit.
The guy, beard all shiny with spilled liquor, asked for napkins and a fresh drink. Him I might have been able to apologize to. But the way his wife looked at me? Oh Lord-- fire and brimstone like a evangelical preacher who spent their seminary researching the seven seals. She demanded a comped meal, and nothing sets Jimmy off more than giving away food.
Mercy ain't on the menu tonight.