"He can sure play that piano!" said the man in the cheap suit and the red tie.
Joe nodded, smiled, and asked him if he'd like another drink.
"Sure, another beer," he said, "and one for the piano man too!"
"He only drinks Glen Fiddich, eighteen year old, doubles."
Red Tie paused for a moment, obviously trying to guess the cost of a double eighteen year old Glen Fiddich, and working out through the alcoholic haze whether the piano man was that good - and whether he was that generous. After a moment, he said, "Sure. A double eighteen year old for the piano man."
Joe nodded again, smiled again and got Red Tie his beer. Then he then reached to the top shelf for the Glen Fiddich bottle on the very end, poured out a double shot into a glass with two small cubes of ice, carefully replaced the bottle, and took the drink to Tom at the piano. Tom nodded his appreciation to the man in the red tie when Joe pointed him out. Red Tie held up his beer in salute.
Back at the bar, Joe laughed as he watched Tom grimace at the taste of the iced tea. The caper had been Joe's idea. Tom didn't drink alcohol, so he'd been missing out on drinks from happy customers for years. Some were even offended that they couldn't buy him a drink, and Tom didn't even like orange juice. The iced tea looked enough like whiskey, and the price of a double top shelf spirit went straight into Tom's pocket; most of it, anyway. The only problem was: Tom hated iced tea more than orange juice. He'd get over it.