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“Coming right up! Sorry for the delay, it’s a bit crazy here today.”
Waverly smiled and waved, trying to appease the customers at Shorty’s. The night had barely begun and the place was already packed. Again. And to make matters worse, it was just her and Doc trying to keep up with the barrage of orders.
“Three more Mint Juleps and one Sidecar for table 4.”
Doc nodded, but sighed. He was trying, and Waverly was trying, but they were clearly short-staffed since Rosita...left. Doc’s mustache twitched a little at the thought of Rosita.
“Wynonna!” Doc’s head snapped around when he heard her name. He watched as Waverly swatted her hand away from the beer taps, clearly annoyed. “Stop! If you are going to touch the taps, you better get on this side of the bar and actually help serve some customers!”
Wynonna barked out a laugh. “Waves, did you hit your head? I’m the Earp heir, not some goddamn barmaid.”
Waverly stopped her movements. She had been in the middle of filling a couple of pints with beer, but simply stopped, slamming the glass on the bar just before she stormed out through the back door.
Doc sighed again. He looked at Wynonna, waiting for her eyes to meet his, and simply stared, saying nothing.
Wynonna rolled her eyes. “Alright, alright. I’ll go get her.”
She found her sister, pacing in the alley behind the bar.
“Waverly, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”
“Yes, you did!” Waverly was fuming.
“Waverly,” she took a breath, “Waves. Look. I’m sorry. That came out wrong. Let’s go back inside.”
Still pacing, Waverly huffed. It took a few more seconds before she stopped abruptly to face her sister. “Do you have any idea how hard this is? Working here? Without Gus, without... Shorty?”
Wynonna winced, but Waverly wasn’t done.
“I do this because this was his bar. But also because it pays the freaking bills. You know? The food you eat? The lights on at the Homestead? Kind of doesn’t happen without this ‘goddamn barmaid’ working her ass off here.”
“Waves. I know. I’m sorry.”
Waverly stood silent, jaws clenched, just staring at her sister for a moment. “I know your gig isn’t easy either. But it really would be nice if you could at least try and help out here sometimes.”
“Waverly…”
“I mean, do you see how busy it is in there? It’s like this almost every night, and ever since Rosita introduced everyone to craft cocktails, it’s harder to keep up. It’s not just rye and cokes anymore, and Rosita is, well you know, and now we are just so busy all the time, and…”
“Waverly, “ Wynonna firmly grabbed her sister by her shoulders to stop her rambling, “I am sorry. I’ll help, okay?”
“You will?”
“Yes. I’ll help. I mean, I could use some of that tip money, too. But Waverly, I don’t know how to make any of those fancy ass drinks.”
Anger slowly subsiding, Waverly shook her head a little. “It’s okay, I’ll teach you.”
---
Waverly capped her dry-erase marker, only to immediately pull it back off. Carefully, she scrawled one last note before replacing the cap one final time with a satisfying click.
Rolling the marker between her hands, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Her eyes scanned the whiteboard: color-coded, and complete with arrows.
“Perfect,” she murmured, before turning back toward her sister. She groaned, throwing the marker. “Seriously, Wynonna?”
As the marker bounced off the top of her head, Wynonna snorted from her spot, curled up on the couch in Waverly’s old room above Shorty’s.
“If you’re not going to take this seriously, I’m not going to bother,” Waverly sighed.
“Of course, I’m taking it seriously, Waves,” Wynonna grumbled, as she leisurely stretched. With a final yawn, Wynonna finally sat upright, boots thudding to the floor. “Nooooo, not this again.”
Waverly beamed at her work, the whiteboard filled with a flow chart of drinks, branching off under the categories of “shaken” and “stirred,” important ratios, and a flavor profile chart of sweet, sour, and salty mixers.
“How about this? I stick to the beer and soda and liquor drinks and leave the fancy shit to you. You still get an extra set of hands, I still get extra cash, and I don’t have to pretend to listen to Shaken-not-Stirred 101.”
Waverly rolled her eyes, arms crossing over her chest. “How much does a pitcher of beer cost you here?”
“Thanks to our Holliday discount, it runs me a whopping zero dollars and zero cents,” Wynonna replied, lying down on the couch again, feet propped up on the armrest.
Waverly shook her head. “How much does it cost someone who doesn’t know Doc?”
“Everyone knows Doc.”
“Okay, nevermind,” Waverly snapped. “My point is, these fancy ass drinks you don’t want to learn how to make start at $10 or $12 a drink, versus a $3 pint of watered-down beer.”
“So?”
“So more expensive drinks means more tip money… “ Waverly trailed off, nervously shifting her weight from foot-to-foot. “...generally...”
Wyn’s eyes widened. “Ohhh, big bucks. Why didn’t you lead with that?”
---
Waverly worked her way through the content on the whiteboard, doing her best to impart her years of bartending experience to Wynonna. But, she could tell her audience quickly lost any illusion of engagement.
It wasn’t long before Wynonna pulled out her phone, assuring Waverly she was taking notes. Waverly continued on but quickly became suspicious of the way Wynonna was furiously tapping at her screen.
A few minutes later, Waverly was interrupted by a chuckle from her sister, Wynonna’s hand darting into the air.
“Professor, I have a question.”
“Yesss?”
“Can you make this?” Wynonna asked, holding out her phone.
Waverly’s eyes narrowed as she stepped closer, pulling the device out of Wynonna’s hand. Reading the title, Jelly Donut Shot, Waverly rolled her eyes and shoved the phone back at Wynonna.
“Are you taking any of this seriously?”
“Duh,” Wynonna shoved her phone back into her pocket before standing. “But enough lecture, it’s time for the practical portion.”
“And you’re ready for that?” Waverly scoffed.
But Wynonna was already pushing open the door and hurrying down the stairs to the bar. With a sigh, Waverly followed, watching as Wynonna happily made her way behind the bar, pulling a bottle of whiskey to the surface and taking a long pull.
She smacked her lips. “Name any drink, baby girl. I’m ready.”
“Alright. Let’s do a classic. Old Fashioned.”
Wynonna’s brows furrowed as she looked down at herself. “Waverly, that’s harsh. I mean, I know the tassled leather jacket isn’t exactly the current style, but I wouldn’t call it ‘old fashioned’. Dads in minivans are old fashioned. Old men in white chunky sneakers are old fashioned. This, this is timeless!”
Waverly rolled her eyes. “No, dummy. The drink. Make an Old Fashioned.”
“Oh! Yes, yes, I can do that.”
Wynonna spun around and grabbed a number of items, placing them on the bar: bourbon, orange slices, cherries. Waverly nodded, trying to offer some encouragement, and Wynonna beamed at her. Then she leaned to her left and grabbed a...pint glass?
Waverly was about to say something when Wynonna started to talk, repeating some of the instructions she had retained from Waverly’s “lecture” earlier.
“Alright, so first it’s the orange slice, or, was it two? Let’s make it two!” She plopped two rather large pieces of orange, peel and all, into the bottom of the pint glass.
“Then, it’s the cherries!” In went two cherries plus two large spoonfuls of bright red cherry syrup.
“Not quite how this goes” Waverly thought to herself but decided to let Wynonna run with it. Maybe she was just putting aside the garnishes for later?
Wynonna faltered a little with the next step, mumbling to herself. “Orange, cherries, what’s next, there was something else. Right! Sugar!!” She spun around again to find a box of sugar cubes and dropped a handful of them into the pint glass.
Waverly’s eyes go wide. “Um, that’s…”
“I know, I know! No need to remind me! I remembered myself. It needs to get muddled!”
On instinct, Waverly’s hand shot up as if she wanted to reach in and take the pint glass away from Wynonna, but her sister was faster. She had the muddler and was starting to muddle... no, smash the ingredients in the glass into a pulp. When she was done, none of the initial ingredients were recognizable, everything was vaguely orange-brown and fibrous. Waverly’s head dropped into her hand.
Wynonna, undeterred, continued. She grabbed some ice and plopped it into the glass, leaving it about half full at this point. Then she grabbed the bottle of bourbon.
"Like three ounces, right?" Wynonna asked, pouring before Waverly could answer. "No, don't tell me."
The ice shifted as bourbon filled the glass to the rim.
“Oh! And then the bitters! I almost forgot about those!” In went three shakes of bitters and Wynonna grabbed a large spoon to stir, then slid the drink to the edge of the bar, presenting it to Waverly.
“Ta dah! See? I can do this!”
“Why is it so… big?”
“I guess it’s a double.” Wynonna shrugged before nudging the glass closer. “Try it. I think the student has become the master.”
Before Waverly could consider how to get out of drinking the one part sugar-pulp to five parts bourbon mess in front of her, the door to Shorty’s opened, and Wynonna swiped back the glass.
“Hey Haughtshot, just in time. I made the exclusive drink of narcs. Even Waverly said so.”
Waverly turned, just in time to see Nicole grimace. “And what is that?”
“Narc-ar-aide,” Wynonna replied simply, shaking the glass and stirring up the previously settled fruit shreds.
“Yeah, nope.” Nicole pecked Waverly’s cheek. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi. You sure you don’t want to try Wynonna’s first attempt at an Old Fashioned? For me?”
Nicole looked from the cloudy glass, to Wynonna, and finally back to Waverly, before rolling her eyes.
“Ah, fine.”
Nicole cautiously lifted the glass to her lips, sputtering before she could even place it back on the bar.
“How much bourbon is in this?” Nicole asked, between coughs.
“This isn’t math class, Miss Everything-Has-To-Be-Exact-And-In-Order. Why would anyone bother to know exactly how much alcohol went into a drink?”
Nicole opened her mouth to reply but grimaced again, pulling a small piece of cherry stem from between her teeth.
“You know who would like to know? Your customers who would like to pace themselves.” Nicole used the cherry stem to wave around at the empty bar before pointing it back at herself. “The sheriff’s department so that anyone who touches this thing doesn’t get behind the wheel. And Doc would surely—”
“What would l like to know?” Doc interrupted, appearing from nowhere with a crate of bottles in his hands. He frowned as he eyed the drink on the bar and the noticeably empty bourbon bottle next to it. He shifted the items in his hands to take a swig of Wynonna’s concoction. He forced a swallow before adding. “I would need to charge $27 just to break even on that monstrosity.”
“Whatever. You all are just jealous.”
Wynonna turned and grabbed a fresh bottle of whiskey. She twisted the top off and took a healthy swig before stuffing four orange slices, six cherries, and a handful of sugar cubes into the bottle. She topped it off with a few shakes of bitters before twisting the cap back on and shaking the whole bottle up.
“You losers just don’t know what’s good! Watch me sell this and make a shit ton of money….I’ll call it ‘Earp’s Old Fashioned Mix’.”
“Yeah, just sell it with a warning to avoid standing near an open flame until it clears your system, and a form to secure your spot on the liver transplant recipient list,” Nicole stated.
Wynonna flipped her off before stalking off toward the pool tables, interrupting a game to pull some locals into the taste test.
Waverly smirked, watching one of the customers hold Wynonna’s bottle of “old fashioned” up to the light and grimace at the items floating in the whiskey. She nudged Doc, his attention turning toward the pool tables in time to see a sputtering patron shove the bottle back to Wynonna, while his buddy called across the saloon for a pitcher of beer.
“Maybe a night of letting Wynonna behind the bar with a muddler wouldn’t be the worst thing. Might scare folks back to the easy stuff for a bit,” Waverly suggested.