Rumor Has it

The southern heat clung to the red bricks of the Panacea Brewing Company, mingling with the scent of fried green tomatoes and fermented beverages. Tuffs of grass and dandelions sprouted around the entrance. People trickled in and out the doors in waves as the sun began to set. Angie fiddled with her purse strap while walking towards the glass doors.

           “C’mon, Angie,” she muttered. “Nothin’ to be scared of.”

           She straightened her posture and shoved the doors open with extra (unnecessary) force. Thankfully, the indie music drowned out the reverb from the practically vibrating door. Angie made a beeline toward the bar, her eyes focused on a particular woman with neon orange hair wiping down her station. Her heart thudded in her chest with each stride as she sat directly in front of the female bartender.

           “Hey, there,” the bartender said, “what can I—”

           “Liz! Needing a refill here!”

           “Ah, one second hun,” she said as she slid down to the grinning man.

           Angie ran her fingers along to glossy countertop as she took in her surroundings. The place had a rustic, homey feeling to it with low, warm lighting—a far cry from what she imagined for a brewery. She felt her shoulders droop and relax as she rested her chin in her hand. Her eyes drifted, lingering on the table closest to her.

           “I heard the food here is amazing,” one of the women said.

           “Cocktails look pretty good too,” the other replied. “Might get this “Booch Mimosa” or their Bloody Mary.”

           “Why bother with the list, Elaina?” the first woman said. “You’ll just get a Vodka Lemonade.”

           A Vodka Lemonade, huh? Angie thought. Sounds normal enough.

           “Shut up, Maddy,” Elaina huffed. “I might be adventurous today.”

           Maddy rolled her eyes.

           “Speaking of “adventurous,” did you hear about—”

           “Hush!” Elaina hissed. “Not here, someone might be listening.”

           Angie’s eyes snapped back to the bar as she felt the woman’s gaze bore into her briefly.

The two women continued their conversation—at a much lower volume—just as the bartender finally returned.

           “Sorry about that wait Hun,” she smiled. “Jeffery has very specific tastes, and apparently nobody can match them except me.”

           “Oh, no worries,” Angie said. “I work at the Bone Fish Grill, so I get picky customers too.”

           “Ah, I applied their once, but I’m better behind the bar than waiting tables.” The bartender said. “Name’s Eliza, do you have an idea of what you want?”

           “Yeah, I’ll have a uh Vodka Lemonade,” she said. “Please.”

           “Coming right up, Cutie,” Eliza winked.

           Angie blushed as Eliza walked off to prepare her drink.

           Now’s not the time to get distracted, she scolded mentally. I need to focus.

           Angie pulled out her notebook and pen, flipping to her most recent page. Names and barely legible locations scrawled over with blots of black ink and scratches of a dried pen adorned the page. She chewed the pen cap as she scowled down the at paper. There must’ve been something she’s missing. Some code or puzzle that was too jumbled for her to decipher—or perhaps she was just missing the last piece.

           “Here’s that Vodka Lemonade you ordered!”

           Angie snapped her notebook shut at the sudden sound of Eliza’s voice—how long had she been standing there?

           “Oh! Thanks,” Angie said.

           “Sorry if I startled you,” Eliza said. “I’ve been told I have light footsteps.”

           Angie took a small sip, the Vodka’s burn mellowed by the tartness of the lavender lemonade.

           “How’d I do,” Eliza asked.

           “It’s fantastic,” Angie said. “I didn’t know you guys had lavender lemonade though.”

           “Make it in house,” she said.

           Angie hummed, taking another long sip of the delicious cocktail while Eliza wiped down the bar. The brewery’s pace had slowed from waves of patrons to a mere trickle; however, Angie’s nerves were still talking in her ear—though only a murmur now. She rhythmically drummed her fingers along the tall glass, smoothing out the wrinkles in her thoughts. Dressing her face in a barely convincing blasé composure, she made her move.

           “So,” Angie said. “Is the stereotype of bartenders knowing all the gossip true?”

           She shifted her gaze away from Eliza as she took a meticulous sip, waiting for a response.

           “Depends,” Eliza replied.

           “On?”

           “A number of factors, actually.”

           “Like what?”

           Eliza scanned the bar, then leaned closer.

           “What kind of gossip you’re looking for, Angie.”

           Angie’s eyes grew wide.

           “How did you—”

           Eliza grinned, clearly amused by her surprise.

           “Your little “friend” came in earlier talking about you,” she said. “Saying how you’d probably be here in a few hours looking for a gossip friendly bartender. And what you did to them, of course.”

           Angie balled her fists in her lap—how could they anticipate her coming to this exact brewery?

           “I guess you aren’t eager to help me?”

           “Personally, I don’t see what the issue is,” Eliza said. “I’ve heard much worse rumors that weren’t even true before.”

           Angie sighed, taking another long sip from her almost forgotten cocktail. Sure, it probably wasn’t the worst rumor someone could’ve come up with for most people; However, Angie’s life was surrounded by scrutiny and any blot on her image could be considered a social death sentence. Besides, she wasn’t about to let some random person spread rumors—even true ones—spread any farther. This needed to end.

           “It’s important for this rumor to be put to rest,” Angie said, her glass clinking against the bar. “Regardless if you think it’s harmless.”

           Eliza only shrugged in response.

           “So, will you help me at all?”

           Eliza held Angie’s desperate gaze. Fear and worry etched into her brown irises and stretched through the creases in her face. She thought about her options: tell her to buzz off or give the girl a hand. Eliza chewed her cheek as she mulled this over in her head before plastering her best, customer service grin on her face.

           “Why not,” she mused. “Getting to hang out with a cutie like you after hours? A dream come true.”

           In more ways than one.