Chapter 9: My Story

During the last few years of my bartending, I got to know more about Nikki and Paul. As I mentioned earlier, Nikki would sometimes accompany Paul to the pub, staying at his side like a cute, little submissive--though if people knew how much of a double entendre she could be at times, they’d be surprised.

Those of us close to the couple knew that with the right amount of alcohol in her system, she would become flirty. Since Paul was only 5’5” and comparatively small, men sometimes hit on Nikki in front of him, and Paul could only watch from the sidelines in despair. His face would flush, and sometimes our eyes would meet for a brief second, as if he were silently begging me to do something--only for me to look away awkwardly. After all, there was nothing we could do.

If Nikki loved one thing more than her piña coladas and mimosas, it was teasing her husband in public. She would often tell those men that she was single, much to Paul’s excitement and humiliation. When they asked who Paul was to her--perhaps to quell their lingering doubts, since they both looked undoubtedly Southeast Asian--she would simply demote him to the role of a friend.

“Just a friend,” she would say, smiling seductively, before following them back to their table. Often, she simply drank with them, enjoying the free drinks they bought for her. Sometimes, I would catch her on someone’s lap, making out with them in the shadows of the pub, leaving Paul behind at his seat, stiff and silent.

But that was as far as she would go. She wouldn’t leave the pub with any of those men or disappear into the backroom--which would have been fine with me, as I would have gotten a peek at her tight little body. I often attributed that somewhat paradoxical restraint of her to Jules, her bull at that time, a man we would come to discuss in later chapters.