Chapter Text
Now Alexander Hamilton had many skills he was proud of. He prided himself on his argumentative nature; he was a natural debater and had put that skill to use in many of his classes at Columbia University. If he’d gotten a black eye a few times by starting arguments outside of class, well, that just acted as proof to him that his opposition couldn’t think of a better argument. Therefore, he won. His writing was another skill he had a great deal of pride in. He had written his way into a scholarship that had helped him get off his tiny island in Nevis, and into a double major in journalism and politics. He hoped to apply his degree to become a political journalist for one of the larger publishing companies in New York.
One skill he did not have, that he was learning quickly enough, was bartending.
He had no idea how John had managed into talking him into going for a bartending gig at the place he was working at. Some swanky, high end lounge called Schuyler’s. It was pretty nice, Alex had to admit; a huge step above the usual dives that he’d normally hit. It had a homey atmosphere, tables around plush benches, with a circular dance floor in the middle, a large stage on one end of the room, and a sizable bar on the other. It was definitely a place he’d drink at...if he had the money for it. He had no idea how he managed to bullshit his way through the impromptu interview with the lounge’s owner, Phillip Schuyler himself, and Alex was silently questioning the business experience of the man, who decided to take a chance and give him the job.
Though it made more sense when he found out that the previous bartender, some schmuck named Charles Lee, had quit due to…”disagreements” with Phillip’s senior bartender. “He was a homophobic piece of shit, and it’s not my fault that his face had an unfortunate run in with a full ice bucket.” John elaborated with a self satisfied shrug, showing him different glasses to serve drinks into.
So they needed a new person ASAP to help take pressure of John, which he could understand. And, while it wasn’t the post-graduation job he had in mind, it paid relatively well for a starting job. Well enough that he’d actually manage to pay rent on time, and with the realization that his place was only a mere ten minute walk away from the lounge? Well, it seemed almost too good to pass up.
Or, well, at least Alex thought.
***
Day one into his new job, he had made a Bloody Mary with sriracha instead of Worcestershire sauce.
Day two, his manager, Aaron Burr, had to keep him from getting into a fistfight with some racist, drunk asshole who had been telling him to “Stop taking jobs from Americans.”
Day three, he had to deal with three separate complaints from whiny college students who didn’t like that he had cut them off after roughly six rounds of shots.
On Day four, he was about one complaint about a “weak long island iced tea” away from just throwing in the towel and quitting, debating if he could get his job at the college library back.
On Day five, however, he decided that this was the greatest job in the world. Because on that day, he saw Elizabeth Schuyler for the very first time.
***
Before Friday evening, all he had known about the owner’s daughters was that he had three of them: the eldest, Angelica worked as a legal assistant, the middle, Eliza, was adopted and a preschool teacher, and the youngest, Peggy, the only one he’d met, was in college and the only one who worked at the lounge part time as a waitress. However, a few nights a week, the sisters would put aside some time to come in and perform on stage. Tonight was one of those nights.
Now the lounge would host live entertainment almost nightly. In Alex’s first few days on the job he’d seen 1940s tribute bands, freestyle rappers, violinists, and a oddly catchy, yet disturbing ballad sung by some British dude with crazy eyes. All well received with varying levels of enthusiasm, and all introduced with high energy and flare by Lafayette, the lounge’s exuberant MC. However, the performances that all the patrons seemed to look forward to the most was when Phillip Schuyler’s three daughters would come on stage, and blow every other act Alex had seen so far out of the water with their skillful harmonizing and hypnotizing stage presence. The three sisters would also have solo sets in between their group numbers, and all three of their voices were captivating in different ways. Peggy, was young and full of boundless energy, and she could certainly get the audience excited and on their feet with her fun covers of popular pop songs. Angelica was a presence that would take the attention of everyone in the room, watching enraptured as she belted out high, impossible notes; demanding and powerful, just like her voice, Alex couldn’t help but be a little intimidated by her.
In the case of Eliza, however, her sweet, yet strong voice seemed to have the ability to just draw the audience in; to stop what they were doing, just to watch such a mesmerizing voice come from such a petite body. And Alex...Alex couldn’t help but be drawn in as well. Alex realized he must’ve looked ridiculous, watching her sing as he wipes down the same spot on the bar top, trying to keep the illusion of productivity up. And at the end of her song, it was almost as though the volume and intent of his cheers carried all the way from the back where he was to the stage because he swears...just for a moment...that her eyes found his. That moment felt like an eternity before she took her final bows and left the stage; and he couldn’t be sure if the pink on her cheeks was due to him, or just a mere trick of the spotlights.
***
“Don’t get any ideas, man,” John said aloud from his end of the bar, a warning mixed in with his teasing tone.
Alex just turned to face him, lifting an eyebrow in confusion. “What gave you the idea that I’m having ‘ideas’?” he looked thoughtful for a moment, “Ideas about what?” John just shot him a knowing look.
“Come on, you’re not exactly discreet about your crush on a certain middle Schuyler sister…” he couldn't help but laugh as Alex almost dropped the glass he was washing, a blush on his face. “Mmhm, happens to the majority of the new hires here: someone always develops a crush on one of the sisters.”
“Majority, huh? So that excludes the gay asshole who tends the bar?” Alex replied sarcastically, John just bowed slightly, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Fine, yeah, I think Eliza’s cute...but that does /not/ mean I’m getting ideas.” He slammed the glass down harder than he intended, and let out a small curse as he quickly cleaned up the broken glass. John merely rolled his eyes as he walked over to help.
“I’m just saying this because the boss has a rule: Employees and his daughters are a no go.” he shrugged, “just figured you’d rather hear it from me rather than from Burr...or Schuyler himself.”
Alex would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed, but at the same time, he could understand on some level why that rule exists; all three of his daughters were gorgeous, there was no denying that, and they already had to deal with the occasional drunk idiot (as quickly as they were ejected from the club by Herc, the long time bouncer at the club), god knows they didn’t need to deal with employees they’d see on a semi-regular basis trying flirt with them, certainly not broke, recent college grads who has a bad habit of mouthing off to drunk idiots.
“So, I’m assuming Schuyler’s rule doesn’t extend to employees hooking up with each other in that case?” Alex asked with a smirk, watching John’s face turn a not so subtle shade of pink. Only a day or so earlier, he’d opened the storage closet to look for a broom, and instead found John with a certain french MC’s lips latched to his neck. Alex put a hand up placatingly, right before John has a chance to protest or deny whatever Alex had walked into. “Okay, okay, I promise,” Alex started, changing the conversation back to their original subject, “I won’t flirt with Eliza Schuyler.” John gave him a calculating stare before going back to cleaning.
Yeah, Alex will respect his boss’s rule…he doesn’t really have a choice in the matter if he wants to pay his rent on time. Although..maybe it was wishful thinking, but he’s certain that Eliza had glanced over to the bar quite a few times during her visits...and it seemed as though her eyes had a tendency to look for his own?
Employees aren’t allowed to flirt with the owner’s daughters….but what could he do should one of the owner’s daughters decides to flirt with an employee…