by G. T. Spoor
“Sorry?”
“Tables. Have you ever waited on a table before?”
“No.”
“But she’s willing to learn,” Sarah quickly added.
Tom sighed. “I don’t know. Turn around for us, love.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Turn, turn,” Tom said, twirling his finger. “Let’s see what you’re offering.”
“I will do no such—”
Sarah quickly spun Emily around.
“She’s got nothing back there either, Tommy.” The Merc laughed.
“She is a bit on the thin side, isn’t she?” Tom said.
“And what about that hair?” the Merc asked. “She looks more like a boy with hair that short.”
“She’ll grow it out,” Sarah said.
“What? In a day?”
“He’s got a point there, girl.”
“Come on, Tom,” Sarah begged. “You keep saying you need more help on the floor.”
“Yeah, but…” Tom gave a heavy sigh. “If it wasn’t for the fact Deborah quit last night, I wouldn’t even consider it.”
“Debby quit? Why?”
“Says she found herself a bloke.”
“Well, good for her.”
The Merc started laughing. “I guess there really is someone for everyone.”
Sarah shot him a dirty look, but if he noticed, he didn’t react. She turned her attention back to Tom. “With Debby gone, that means you’re going to be shorthanded.”
The man ran a hand through his mop of gray hair. “I don’t know,” he said. “It doesn’t look like she can handle herself.”
“If she gets into trouble, I’ll be there.”
“It only pays a fyn an hour, but any tips you make are yours.”
“In that case, she’ll probably starve,” the Merc mumbled.
Tom twisted his face as if the decision to hire her was a difficult one to make. He let out another great sigh and looked to the ceiling, almost as if he was praying. “All right,” he said. “The job’s yours if you want it. Get changed in the back. Your shift starts in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, Tom.” Sarah grabbed Emily by the hand and pulled her behind the bar. “You won’t regret this,” she shouted over her shoulder.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Tom mumbled.
Emily said nothing as she followed Sarah into the back room. From there they entered what could only be described as a broom closet. They had to squeeze past a stack of boxes marked “Cleaning supplies” to get to the changing area. It was a small dark space with a single bench and a full-length mirror that looked as if it hadn’t seen a dustrag in years. Several uniforms were hanging on the wall.
“You can wear Lisa’s old uniform,” Sarah said, pointing to one of the hooks. “She was about your height, although we might have to take it in.”
“Won’t Lisa mind?”
“Lisa stopped working here two weeks ago.” Sarah paused for a moment, as if that fact should mean something. “Now that I think about it, it was rather sudden.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised,” Emily mumbled. She removed the uniform from the peg and held it up to get a better look at it. There wasn’t much there to put on. “Don’t you find this a little embarrassing?”
“Yeah, I probably should have warned you about Tom’s interviews.”
“I wasn’t actually talking about that, but now that you bring it up…”
“Oh, don’t let it get to you. We all had to go through it.”
“Why?”
“Because we needed the job.”
“That’s not really an excuse, is it?”
“The Bird and Bay might not be much to look at, but at least Tom’s honest. You heard him—you can keep your tips. I’ve worked in places where that wasn’t an option.”
“Maybe. But what about that Merc? Who’s he?”
“Phil? He’s harmless most of the time. Unless he gets a few drinks in him. Then he can be a little handsy. He’s always here for breakfast before we’re even open. Tom thinks having Mercs in the place is good for business.”
Sarah was already getting undressed and didn’t seem to mind there was no door to their little broom closet. If it wasn’t for the wall of boxes, they might as well be undressing in the hall. Tying on her apron, she looked at herself in the mirror.
“Do you get a lot of Mercs in here?” Emily asked.
“Oh yeah, quite a few actually. We’re kind of in the middle of three territories. There’s the Red Wolves, the Yellow Snakes, and the White Hawks.”
“No Blue Tigers?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“No reason.” She didn’t need to run into them again after what happened yesterday. “You wouldn’t happen to know how someone becomes a Merc, would you?”
“They’d have to be hired by one of the companies,” Sarah said.
“But what if they didn’t want to work for an established group? What if they wanted to go off on their own?”
“Then I guess they’d have to get a Merc license. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.”
“And how would someone go about getting something like that?”
“That’s easy—they’d have to go to the Annex.”
“The Annex?”
“That’s where all that stuff is done. Licenses and things.”
“And where’s that?”
“At the center of the city. The Bureau building is the tallest building in New Doral. It goes straight up through the Chimney. Some say it goes all the way to the top, and it’s actually a part of the Imperial Palace, but I don’t know about that. Anyway, there’s an Annex on each level that handles all Bureau business for that tier…” Sarah suddenly stopped and looked at Emily. “You’re not thinking of getting a Merc license, are you?”
“It did cross my mind. If I’m going to find the people who tried to abduct me, it might be easier to do it as a Merc.”
She laughed. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re a woman. Women don’t become Mercs.”
“Why not?”
“They just don’t. I don’t think they’re allowed. Anyway, it’s men’s work,” Sarah said as if the answer was obvious.
“Men’s work?”
“Yeah. Of course. Can you imagine a woman chasing down a criminal and stopping a fight? Let’s face it, we’re better in the kitchen and they’re better out there.”
“You can’t honestly believe that.”
“Of course I do.”
“But you work.”
“Only until I get married. Now, come on. Get changed, so I can introduce you to Beth before our shift starts.”
Sarah left Emily alone in the broom closet, holding her newly acquired uniform. This was not what she had in mind when she came to New Doral. Her father had warned her that the path one follows is not always straight. It winds and forks and sometimes sends you on journeys you hadn’t planned on, but if you follow its course, you’ll reach your destination; it just might not be from the direction you anticipated. This was definitely not the direction Emily had anticipated.
Stripping off her clothes, she put on the uniform, then stared at herself in the dusty mirror. Now she was in violation of the sixth tenet—again. The skirt was way too short and the top was way too low. She checked the other uniforms, hoping to find something with a little more material. When that proved futile, she tried looking at herself in the mirror again. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. No such luck. She could simply change back into the regular clothes, but that wouldn’t be fair to Sarah. The woman vouched for her, so, in a way, Emily was honor bound to see it through, if only for a day. Squeezing past the cleaning supplies, she stepped back out into the hall and followed the voices into the kitchen.
“There you are,” Sarah said. “I thought you might have run away. Come and meet Beth.”
Beth was a short, plump woman with a large nose and an even la
rger smile. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun and the wrinkles around her eyes only made her seem twice as jovial.
“So this is the new recruit.” She laughed.
“Emily, this is Beth Howell. She runs the kitchen and well… pretty much all of the Bird and Bay.”
Emily bowed to the woman. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
Beth frowned. “Ma’am? Do I look like a ma’am?”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
Sarah laughed. “You have to forgive Emily. She’s not from New Doral.”
“I’m only teasing you, child,” Beth said. “But I wouldn’t be tossing around the title of ma’am too often in the Chimney. It may not have the same meaning as it once did.”
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“So, Sarah tells me you’re not from around here. Where do you hail from?”
“East. Not as big a place as this. So you run the kitchen?”
Beth fell silent for a moment but never lost her smile. “That’s right. I run the kitchen. Have you ever worked in a tavern before?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Well. It’s not that difficult. Just ask the people what they want. Write it down and bring it back here. You can write, can’t you?”
“Yes, ma’am, I… I mean, Beth.”
“Give it time, child. You’ll catch on.”
Sarah grabbed Emily’s hand. “Come on,” she said. “They’re going to be coming in soon. You handle the booths for now and I’ll take care of the tables. Kate and Dot should be in later.”
~~~***~~~
Emily picked up the money left on the table and brought it to the bar. Pulling the coffer out, she started tallying up the bill. New Doral had a strange currency system, but she was finally getting the hang of it. Unfortunately, it didn’t mean her tips were improving. Deducting the price of the meal and the ale, the vir only left her with a quarter fyn, hardly enough to get excited over. She shoved the rest of the money into the coffer and slipped it back under the bar.
The pace of the morning started out slow, what with only a few people coming in for breakfast, but it quickly picked up during the lunchtime hours. Fortunately, that’s when Kate and Dot showed up.
Kate was a fireball with a bob cut. A bronze-skinned, leggy young woman of average height, she was all over the place. Running back and forth from the kitchen to the main room, she must have served over a dozen dishes in the time it took Emily to serve one. She was also very friendly with the customers… maybe a little too friendly.
Dot, on the other hand, was more reserved. A full-figured woman with shoulder-length honey-brown hair, she had a round, friendly face and a kind disposition, the type of person complete strangers felt compelled to tell all their troubles and secrets to. She might have spent longer at each table, conversing with the customers, but it showed in the number of tips she was pulling in.
As for the customers, they were all vir and all male, which was pretty much what Emily expected from how Sarah described Tom’s views of the other races. He wasn’t a very tolerant man, but it didn’t seem to affect his business. There were quite a few Mercs, several jitney drivers, an entire construction crew, not to mention a few suits, although she couldn’t figure out why the suits wanted to dine in a tavern such as the Bird and Bay. It catered more to the working class, and they seemed a little out of place. But they ate, they paid, and they left, and that was all that Tom required.
Most of the patrons chose to sit at the tables, so Emily only had to deal with a handful of customers in her section, but it still kept her on her toes. As she ran back and forth between the kitchen and the main floor, she was now sure she knew why Lisa quit. The work itself wasn’t difficult, but the environment left much to be desired. The comments, the stares, the proposals—with every order she took, she had to remind herself of the first tenet. There was more than one time a customer nearly received the back side of her tray. It didn’t help with Tom telling her to smile each time she passed the bar on her way to, or from, the kitchen. He even suggested she show a little more skin, but how was that possible given how revealing the uniforms were to begin with?
Sarah, on the other hand, made the job look all too easy. If she was having any problems with any of the customers, she wasn’t letting it show. She conversed with each table, took their orders, and delivered their food without dropping her smile. She was definitely more suited to dealing with the public than Emily could ever be.
Sitting at the bar, Emily watched as her last two booths were finishing their meals. One was a salesman or possibly a deliveryman. He came in with a large bag that he kept close to his side. He wasn’t the friendliest vir and seemed to take offense when he ordered his usual, and she didn’t know what it was. Little chance of a decent tip there. The second booth was occupied by two Mercs from the White Hawk company. They were a bit too friendly. She thought about dumping them on Kate but was afraid of what the results might be.
Now that the place was beginning to empty, Emily could afford to take a breather. Even Sarah’s customers were thinning out. She only had three tables occupied—make that two as she picked up the pay from a group of departing jitney drivers.
“Come again,” Sarah said in that cheerful voice that was starting to get on Emily’s nerves. Stepping behind the bar, she pulled out the coffer and tallied up the bill. After setting aside five fyn, she placed the rest of the money in the old wooden box and returned it to its home under the bar.
“You can always count on jitney drivers to leave a decent tip.” She folded the five fyn and slipped them into her apron pocket. “What did Old Willy give you?”
“Willy?” Emily asked. “Who’s Willy?”
“Willy. You know, the old man with the long beard who was in booth three. He’s a bit of a regular. What did he give you?”
“Does a dirty look count?”
Sarah’s jaw dropped. “Are you saying he didn’t leave you a tip? He’s usually a pretty good tipper.”
“I don’t think he appreciated my answer to his proposal.”
“Yeah, sometimes he can be a little crude.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“You can’t take what they say seriously,” Kate said on her way back from the kitchen. She was carrying a tray loaded with food in one hand and three tankers of ale in the other. It was a wonder it didn’t wind up on the floor with how quickly she moved around the bar. “You know what they say, boys will be boys. It’s all in good fun. You just have to play along.”
Emily gave her a bitter laugh. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for this kind of work.”
“It’s only your first day. You’ll get the hang of it.”
“Do you really think—”
“Yo! Sweet-cheeks! How about some more ale over here?”
Slowly Emily turned to the table where one of the White Hawks was holding up an empty bottle. Reaching behind the bar, she grabbed another ale, and weighted it in her hand.
“You want me to take care of it?” Sarah asked.
“No, it’s all right. I think I can hit him from here.”
“Emily?”
“I was only joking.”
“No, I mean, look.”
She turned to where Sarah was pointing. A woman stood in the doorway of the tavern. That alone was out of the ordinary. It was the first female customer Emily had seen all day. There was an air of mystery around her that didn’t quite fit into the otherwise mundane surroundings. Tall and willowy with delicate features, her pale face seemed all the more ghostly framed by her long raven-black hair. She walked with difficulty and relied heavily upon her companion, a small individual wrapped in a full-length brown cloak, the hood of which was pulled up over her head. The room fell silent as the customers watched her cross the floor. They seemed almost frightened by her presence. Even Tom appeared nervous as he kept wiping his hands on his dirty apron.
“That’s her,” Sarah wh
ispered. “That’s Mira.”
Mira took the table in the corner of the room, beside the fireplace. Well away from everyone else. Sarah quickly got up off her stool and ran over to take her order.
“Yo! Where’s my ale?” the White Hawk shouted.
Grabbing the bottle off the bar, Emily marched across the floor and slammed it down on the table in front of the man. He jumped back but quickly regained his composure.
“Took you long enough,” he mumbled.
“My apologies, I was a bit busy.”
“So I see.” He glanced over to where Mira was sitting. “Damned Elves. Don’t know why they’re even allowed in the Chimney. Thought they all hated tech.”
“You can’t trust an elf,” the other Hawk grumbled between mouthfuls of food.
Emily bit her tongue and returned to her stool. Sarah ran past her into the kitchen. When she returned, she stepped behind the bar and pulled two glasses off the top shelf. Running her finger down the row of bottles, she stopped when she reached a light blue label. Tom usually poured the drinks, but he didn’t seem to want anything to do with the elf. Although, Emily was sure he would have no problem accepting her money when the time came to pay.
“This is your chance,” Sarah said. She slid the tray with the two glasses toward Emily.
“My chance for what?”
“To talk to her. Takes these over.”
She looked down at the drinks, then across the room at Mira. Picking up the tray Emily carefully carried it to the table.
“Thank you,” a voice from beneath the brown cloak said. The voice was female but sounded young.
Mira, on the other hand, said nothing as she picked up one of the glasses and took a sip. She set it on the table in front her, then slowly looked up at Emily. Her eyes were an unsettling shade of violet.
“I believe I already gave the young lady my order.”
There was a cold edge to her voice. This was not someone who enjoyed idle chitchat.
“Yes, ma’am, I realize that. That’s not what I’m here for.”
“Then why else would you be bothering me?”
“Well, you see, you don’t know me—”