“Are you ready for another beer?” I ask Tristian. It’s finally the fourth quarter and, thank god, the end is in sight. He looks up at the tray of drinks and scowls. “Although I appreciate the service, why are you schlepping all this up back and forth? We have a fucking housekeeper, Cherry.” “It’s fine. I offered to help.” I shrug, even though my feet really are getting a little sore. I can’t imagine poor Ms. Crane having to do it. “Serving you guys is part of my job, isn’t it?” “No,” he argues, giving me a look. “Your job is to do what we want you to do, and being a glorified waitress isn’t
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