Hexanna the Bartender

“One more box.” Hexanna grunted as she carried in the next crate.

”You’re a life saver.” The event planner said. “I hope this last minute delivery wasn’t too much of an inconvenience.”

”I mean it was, but I’m happy to help.” Hexanna said. Actually, she had entire warehouse full of this discount liquor that she needed to off load, so it wasn’t that inconvenient at all. Maybe a little last minute, but what did she care? A guy had pulled her aside and said a bunch of crates had “fallen off of trucks” did she want them. And of course, it ended up being a bunch of practically undrinkable imports from Earth. Hexanna had only kept like six bottles for herself outta the whole bunch. The other seventy bottles were then parked in a warehouse she was “borrowing”. She was considering abandoning the whole venture when she overheard a frantic wedding planner cursing into her smart phone. Enter Hexanna.

”I’ve never heard of bandits hijacking liquor shipments before. I mean what are the chances?”

”Probably better than you think.” Hexanna muttered.

”Hmm?”

”Oh, I said I’m done.”

”Great. Thanks again.” The event planner ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t suppose you also know where I can find a bartender?” She chuckled, then let out a stressed sigh.

”Well… I’ve been known to make a mean drink. They didn’t award me last year’s mixologist of the year for nothing.”

”Mixologist of the year?“ The woman raised an eyebrow.

”It’s not that big a deal. Just a plaque and a small cash prize.”

The woman studied her. “You’re really a bartender?”

”How else would I have the contacts to get seventy bottles of grade A booze on such short notice?”

”You do have a point.” She tapped her chin with her phone stylus. “How does eighty for the night sound?”

Hexanna pretended to think about it. She was actually planning out what she was going to spend all those coins on. “Since you’re in a pinch, I guess I can help.”

”Great! Can you get changed and meet me back here in say… two hours?”

”Sure.” She and the woman shook hands, then Hexanna headed off to find a place to get a suit.

***

Hexanna arrived at the reception venue right on time, but the wedding party was still chit-chatting in the hallway. She took the time to set up her stuff in a professional manner and sniff around the gift table. She picked up a particularly large box and gave it a shake. “Mixer.” She scoffed. “Why does everyone go right for the mixer?”

The event planner came in. “Ooh hurry up and get behind the bar.” She said. “The kids are in bed, the photos have been taken, and everyone is thirsty.”

”Gotcha, boss.” Hexanna checked herself once more in the mirror. She straightened her tie, then pretended to lick her finger and touch it to her butt. “Sizzle sizzle.”

Hexanna got in position just as a wave of dextros spilled into the ballroom. Using her various potion making bottles and stirrers, she churned out drinks by the half dozen while the event planner apologized profusely for the small selection. But the drunker everyone got, the less they cared. Hexanna even convinced the planner to have a glass or two to calm her nerves. The happy couple’s friends and family were all out on the dance floor, livin’ it up. Hexanna was a tad jealous. I mean, here she was at this swanky event and she wasn’t even allowed to get a lil loose. As soon as the line at the bar was dealt with, she took her chance and started mixing herself a little pick-me-up. She poured herself a rather large portion of the booze, then mixed in a can of generic cola she’d “found” in the hotel lounge.

Hexanna went to take a drink. “Ew,” She muttered. “What’s with all the glittery crap?” Then she froze, slowly lowered the glass back down to the counter, and picked up her bag. She was making potions yesterday. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Hexanna could not remember if she was making those little fire bombs she loved so much or the hair regrowth treatments she sold at the market. The latter would probably go unnoticed, but the former was made with low level explosives that were like a million percent not fit for consumption. She rifled through her bag as calmly as she could. If she just fed three hundred people fire bomb cocktails she was majorly fucked. There wasn’t really an antidote for “I just ate explosives”. You were going to have to spend a while in the hospital and you might shit a little blood. No way around it, She thought. I’m going back to jail. Eventually, she found the potion bottles in the bottom of her bag. She held them up to the light, swishing them around. It wasn’t hair growth potion, those were mostly clear. But these didn’t look like fire bombs either. Then Hexanna clicked her tongue. Maybe, just maybe, she had labeled them for sale. Her luck held and she turned the tag around. She breathed a sigh of relief, letting out a weak chuckle. They were just her “love” potions. It was mostly sugar water, nothing dangerous. There was literally no way that could be problematic.

Hexanna righted herself, standing up to face the ballroom. “Holy fu-“ Every single dextro in the room was busy making out with the closest person. Bridesmaids were tonguing band members. Grannies were squeezing groomsmen’s asses. It was an all out love fest. The event planner was getting fresh with the mother of the bride while about three feet away the bride and groom were starting their honeymoon early.

”Oh my shit.” Hexanna whispered. “It’s like the sixties all over again.” She wanted to look away, but it was too horrible. The men and the attractive redhead in the back were at least trying to go out and find a room, but everyone else was just prepared to do it where they stood. The pair on the dance floor were doing moves she had never even contemplated, let alone attempted. Her love potion wasn’t meant to do all this. Frankly, she had thought it was going to be bit of scam. A little bit of sugar and fruit juice for color, just something the kids could hand out at Valentines or whatever. But a liquid version of the ‘little blue pill’? That… that she could sell! Sell by the damn truckload.

At some point, (the exact second the groom’s great-grandfather began unbuttoning his trousers), she was able to peel her eyes away. She quickly gathered her things, grabbed a couple of things off the gift table, then snatched the top tier off the wedding cake and got the hell out. She was finally gonna be rich. Filthy fuckin rich!