The bartender nodded as I picked up my glass. The drink was truly a masterpiece. But I couldn’t let the alcohol affect me. So I summoned a bit of body heat and focused on the drink. In my mind I imagined it being exactly as it was, without the intoxicants. When the image crystallized, I poured the collected warmth through the mental image. Instantly, the intoxicants were purged from the martini.
That was another excellent use of my gift. The ability to encourage people’s assumptions about your sobriety was a useful edge to have. When I took another sip, my smile widened. Sometimes when I stripped the alcohol from a drink, the taste suffered. When it happened, I typically didn’t mind. But if I had butchered this cocktail, while a necessity, it would have also been a tragedy.
“I didn’t ask the cost of the drink because that was a tip, nothing more, nothing less.”
“Thank you, sir,” the bartender said, patting his pocket.
After taking another sip, I swirled the drink as I gathered the stray droplets clinging to my lips. “What’s your name?”
“Simon,” he said as he picked up another dirty glass. With a nod, he turned to walk down the bar.
He understood. More importantly, he accepted the burden of being the only bartender I’d use for the day. “Thank you for the drink, Simon. You’re a magician with those bottles.”
Just as I took another sip of the drink, a clipped voice in a thick Russian accent barked at me from just behind my right shoulder. “You know, you just make all of us look bad.”
Before I could turn around to ask the man what he was talking about, another voice came to my rescue from behind my other shoulder. In contrast to the first, this voice, while smooth, had a faint accent I couldn’t place. “Wrong, it only makes you stiffnecked and greedy people look bad. Personally, I see nothing wrong with that. There are those of us who are willing to tip the staff for their hard work.”
The man who had leaped to my defense leaned down and asked me a question, speaking quietly enough so only I could hear him. “But between you and me, that was a hefty one. You didn’t start your drinking before arriving, did you?”
I didn’t need this right now. I just wanted to be left alone to enjoy my drink and continue examining the room and the other attendees. But I supposed some of the social niceties needed to be observed. With that in mind, I took another sip as I turned toward my defender. “No. I have had nothing to drink so far today. I’m just well-off, and the drink put me in a generous mood.”
Even though I could tell my answer confused him, the stranger was willing to accept it. This man was truly one of societies’ elite. A pompous and spoiled individual who never had to work for anything in his life. He could never understand or appreciate anything other than his desires. So I twisted my words into something he should be able to understand. “Swift service that’s poor is worse than a quality service that takes ages to come to fruition.”
“What does that have to do with the tip?”
I lifted my martini and flashed a broad smile. “That tip ensures that I’ll have quality service that’s prompt for the rest of the day.”
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