She wanted to snap at him to be patient and have faith, but her will reasserted itself. She only said, “Okay, coming.”
The drain on her energy had damaged her mood. She felt as though she’d woken up five minutes ago after four hours of sleep and hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet, and it got worse as the night dragged on. Increasingly she found it hard to be nice to people.
Thanks to the calming spell, no one in the bar seemed inclined to complain or start a fight with her, but then again, the spell was the source of her fatigue.
Magic truly is a double-edged sword, isn’t it? She shook her head and contemplated sneaking a drink behind the corner. It solves one problem and creates another. Next time I feel this strung out, I can’t rely on the thaumaturgic equivalent of Valium to save me, especially when I’m supposed to be hiding my abilities. Whoops.
She calmed down by checking her stock of items, then stood up to look at the groups and see if anyone needed a refill. Everything was good as she scanned the room…until her gaze locked onto one particular individual. Her stomach muscles tightened, and her nostrils flared.
It was him—Mustang Man, the bastard who’d shot up Zee while trying to extort something from Cevin. And who’d hit on her before that, and if she recalled, had shown up at least once since then, despite what she had done to his car in retaliation.
The man who was one of the known members of the Startup.
He was with a woman, and Kera wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. At least it meant he probably wouldn’t flirt with her.
His partner was around Kera’s age or perhaps slightly older. She was attractive in a basic ditzy way, with long auburn hair, heavy bluish eye shadow, and a pair of boots that came halfway up her thighs even though she was wearing tight blue jeans beneath them. The two of them chatted sporadically, but they seemed to spend a lot of time looking at the other patrons.
And the staff. The woman caught Kera’s eye, and she gave a short, curt nod before returning to work.
Ten minutes later, Kera had caught up with her half of the bar, which included another couple who seemed harmless as well as a pair of rough-looking guys who had been sedate so far but might be trouble later. Cevin walked by again. He was checking on things more often than usual.
Kera had an idea.
“Hey, Cevin,” she called, and he hurried over to the bar. In a lower voice, “Check out that chick over there—the one who’s bimboed all the way up. I’ve, uh, seen her before, and I hereby nominate her as your next attempted conquest. Seriously, go talk to her.”
Blinking, her boss turned toward the table. “Her? She’s with a guy!”
“Hey,” Kera assured him, “I didn’t tell you to blatantly ask her out or say anything risqué. Just strike up a brief conversation and see how it goes. With that one, if you strike out, it’s good. So, like, let’s try reverse psychology. With the other lady a couple of nights ago, you were trying too hard. If you’re not really trying, you might do better. It makes perfect sense when you think about it.”
Cevin visibly squirmed as he considered it. It was obvious he disliked the idea.
“The last thing I want is to start a fight in my own bar. Christ. And I don’t like the look of that guy she’s with. He seems like trouble.”
Part of Kera’s experiment had been to see if Cevin would remember Mustang Man, and it seemed that he did not.
That was probably good. The man was more dangerous than either of them had thought.
“Okay,” she replied, “maybe you’re right, and he’s the overly protective or jealous type. Although, um, you could always send me in to soften them up and be sure. Has anyone waited on their table yet?”
Cevin pursed his lips. “Stephanie had them under control, but the floor is getting busy. Maybe you could go check and see if they need a drink refill. Tell me if I should try it, huh? I trust female intuition more than my own when it comes to this sort of thing.”
She laughed, though part of her was nervous. I have more intuition than the average female, that’s for certain. “Sure thing. One second.”
Kera finished making a drink for another patron, then walked toward the couple. Both noticed her and stared as she approached.
“Hi,” she said, waving to them, “your server will be right back, but in the meantime, can I get either of you another drink?”
The woman flicked her eyes away, then said, “Yes, please.” The voice was sharp and crisp; somehow, it didn’t go with her appearance. She handed Kera a glass that was a quarter full of whiskey sour, the orange slice leaning against the residual ice.
The man said nothing but handed her an empty beer glass.
Kera smiled. “No problem.” She took the containers, and her consciousness reached toward them, trying to sense the character of their thoughts and feelings—another part of the strange, passively-active abilities she’d gained since first dabbling in thaumaturgy.
She was struck by what she felt and not in a good way. Neither of the pair gave off vibes that could be called good or pleasant, and the nature of them was similar from both.
In the woman’s case, it was far stronger. Constant, seething anger mixed with loneliness and a desperate desire to prove herself, regardless of the consequences. Souls in more or less continuous pain, who probably wanted to extend the pain to others.
As she turned to head back to the bar, Kera paused, not wanting her feelings to be too obvious. Something about the couple scared her, especially the girl, despite knowing that Mustang Man was an unpleasant and dangerous individual. This, she sensed, might be the woman who ran the Startup. That would make her dangerous too, but Kera now knew where the danger came from.
She pitied them. Before she knew what she did, she was speaking an incantation under her breath and drawing down the power of the universe.
Casting spells on random schmucks. Is that the right thing to do? Sometimes I wonder, but I think these two need a little magic to keep their evening from going to shit, not to mention to keep them from shitting on everyone else’s evening.
The calming spell engaged and soothing energy flowed over the man and the woman, numbing their tensions and directing their thoughts toward more peaceful matters. She added a small dose of memory-wipe for good measure.
They blinked and relaxed.
Kera strode to the bar, reassured the two slightly thuggish guys that she’d be with them in a moment, and refilled the two drinks from the table. When she brought them back out, she noticed that the vibe was gentler than it had been.
“Oh,” the woman with the thigh-high boots said. “Um, thank you.”
“Yeah,” Mustang Man agreed. “That was...nice.”
Kera smiled, told them not to mention it, and hurried back to the bar. With any luck, the pair would have a better evening now. She suspected that both of them needed a lot more than a single temporary spell in much the same way that a volcano needed more than a bucket of ice water.
Kera took a step or two down the bar to check on everyone and everything else and noticed Cevin trudging toward her. Again, his mood did not appear to be good, and she could guess why.
“Hi, Cevin,” she greeted him. “Need help with anything?”
He scowled, though not at her. “That’s my line, isn’t it? But no, unless you can go back in time and stop that broadcast from going out. Our clientele took a turn for the worse, and…fuck. Can I sue them for defamation?”
Kera nodded at a double table packed with reporters. “Well, there they are if you want to serve them some legal papers along with, uh, whatever else they ordered. God, I suck at jokes.”
That brought a light chuckle from him, so she supposed his spirits hadn’t been too blackened by recent events. “Maybe later. Still, you know they’re scouting for their next story. I bet they want there to be another fight or drug deal. They don’t care what it does to our reputation.”
Kera pointed out, “We do have more customers now, including them. They say any publicity is go
od publicity, right? More people buying food and drinks.”
He considered it but shook his head. “The kitchen isn’t staffed for such large parties. In fact, I’m going to have to help out back there any minute now. We’re attracting a clientele I never wanted, regardless of whether they pay the same as everyone else. What happens when the novelty goes away and we’re just that shitty bar everyone thinks of as being full of gang members and general assholes?”
Before Kera could think of another way to cheer him up, he darted off with surprising speed toward the kitchen, making good on his promise.
Twenty minutes later, once the cooks were caught up, he was back out front, taking off an apron and double-checking for signs of trouble.
Kera had come to another lull in business at the bar and flagged him down.
“Cevin, I think what we need to get your mind off this stuff is another attempt at Operation Get You a Date. What do you say, boss?”
His reaction reminded her of a cat drawing back to puff up and hiss. “Ugh, no. Last time was enough of a horrible, embarrassing failure, wasn’t it?”
“It wasn’t that bad,” she protested. “And the road to success is paved with failures. If you watch the bar for a few minutes, I’ll do touch-up waiting on the tables and see if I can find you a prospect. Come on, it’ll be fun.” She poked him in the side with her elbow.
Jenn appeared behind them. “I second that notion. Sorry, Cevin, but there’s no getting out of it.”
Sighing, he agreed to let Kera do a scouting run if nothing else.
While he and Jenn kept an eye on the drinkers, Kera strode across the floor, nominally to check if anyone needed a refill, but also to filter through the customers for single ladies.
She found one.
Holy living crap, Kera marveled. That chick has to be a supermodel. Or a trophy wife, but I don’t think she has a ring on. Does she? Damn. Poor Cevin. His road to success is going to be paved with a bunch more stones, isn’t it?
The woman resembled a young Monica Bellucci, Kera thought. When she asked her if she needed anything, she seemed polite, though a tad aloof.
“Okay,” Kera said, “let your server know if you need anything else. Also, our manager will be out to talk to everyone shortly. Enjoy the rest of your night!”
The attractive woman nodded and waved her off.
Kera went to fetch Cevin. “Found one, and you’re in luck. She’s hot. Well, I can never be certain what the hell men think is hot, but I’d be shocked if you disagree. I’ll put it that way.”
Cevin visibly trembled and adjusted his collar. “That hot? No point. Have some mercy, Kera. The hotter she is, the more humiliating it will be when she shoots me down.”
Kera locked eyes with Jenn, who nodded and leaned over the bar to push Cevin forward with both hands. As he stumbled into a walk, Kera took him by the arm and guided him halfway toward Ms. Not-Bellucci before he realized what was happening.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered. He’s probably doomed, she thought.
The woman looked up as the two approached. Cevin stared at her, so Kera took the initiative. “Hello, again. This is Cevin, the head honcho here. He, uh, is also in charge of security for the place. You might have heard some of that crap on the news. Well, with him running things, we want all our customers to know that they’re safe. Right?”
Cevin swallowed. “Um, yeah. I installed extra cameras and floodlights out back. And, uh, I have past experience dealing with assholes who come around to this place. We, y’know, have our ways of taking care of that kind of thing. The Mermaid is still a respectable establishment.”
The supermodel’s eyes opened a notch wider. “Oh, really?” She was intrigued.
“Yep,” Kera confirmed. “I gotta get back to the bar. Have fun!”
She departed, but Cevin stayed where he was, and though the noise of the rest of the bar blotted things out, the two kept conversing. Not to mention, Kera could sense a warm, faintly electrochemical vibe rising between them.
Damn. Who would have thought? I mean, he is tall, even though he slouches.
Jenn caught her eye as she returned to the bar. “Ooh! How’d it go? He isn’t back, so that’s probably a good sign.”
“Amazingly,” Kera reported. “Well, so far. He might still screw it up with a dumbass remark, but he’s off to a good start. I’m as shocked as he was. That chick looks like Monica Bellucci, doesn’t she?”
“Umm...” Jenn squinted. “Kinda? But yeah, it’s about time he made progress with someone.”
Ten minutes later, Cevin returned, looking sweaty but happy.
Kera checked on her customers, then sidled up. “Did you get a date?”
“Well,” he began, “not exactly, but we talked all that time without me making a fool of myself. She said she’d stop in again sometime! I figured that was enough and not to push my luck. I can ask her out next time, right?”
Kera fought a sudden schoolgirl-esque urge to swoon and say, “Awww.” Instead, she smiled.
“Yeah, good plan. And congrats!”
“Thanks.” His sheepish grin broadened, and it looked like he was standing straighter than usual. “After the fucking week I’ve had, I’ll take the win. Any win.”
Kera’s mood soared on his behalf, but perhaps an hour later, she felt something before she saw it, and it concerned her. Stephanie was tired, and something was clearly bothering her.
“Hey, Steph,” she called. “You all right? You’ve been working hard. Let me know if you want to take a five-minute break. I can cover your tables.”
The waitress responded, “Oh, thank you. I think I’ll be fine, though. And yes, all is well. Just tired, like you say.”
There was more; Kera could sense it. The other woman was avoiding something. Avoiding her, maybe.
Kera decided not to push it. It might be a personal problem that was none of her business, and if Stephanie wanted to discuss it later, she knew Kera would listen.
A moment later, Steph changed the subject. “I haven’t seen Chris or Ted lately. Was hoping they’d be back in some time, to be honest. Chris is nice, and Ted is, you know, entertaining.”
Kera’s face fell. “Uh. Yeah. That’s weird, isn’t it?” She felt as though she’d broken a priceless vase of her mom’s and been caught in the act. Her stomach swam, and her face flushed. “Whatever, though. If they want to come back, they will.”
“I hope so,” Stephanie agreed, then walked off to check on a table.
Kera bit her tongue as she refilled someone’s tequila, then retreated to the most well-shadowed corner of the bar.
Goddammit, Steph. I know you didn’t mean anything by that, but couldn’t you have said anything else? They’re never coming back, and it’s because of me.
Chapter Nineteen
Lia sat alone in the Startup’s rented office. She checked the time on her watch. It was 10:14 a.m., and the meeting was supposed to start at 10. It was unusual for Pauline to be late, and she began to wonder if they’d been in a car accident or something.
About a minute later, two pairs of footsteps approached, and the door opened. In strode Pauline, followed by Johnny.
Lia sensed at once that something was wrong, but it was nothing like the kind of wrongness she had expected.
Both of them seemed relaxed and unbothered. Less tense than usual, let alone the seething wrath Lia would have assumed, given whatever had happened to delay them. She wondered if they had smoked some weed or taken pills before they came in. Pauline didn’t use drugs much anymore, but the recent stresses might have caused her to relapse.
They’d both been out of touch the night before, something Lia worried meant there was a relationship developing. With two such famously quick-tempered people, she couldn’t see that ending well.
There wasn’t any tension or shared energy between them today. No quick looks or secret smiles.
Strange.
It was Lia’s nature to carefully consider and calculate everything bef
ore she spoke or acted. She remained silent as the pair took their places and thought the situation over. The biggest thing to discuss, as far as Lia was concerned, was the recent news report on Motorcycle Man, which cast him in a bad light and suggested that his public support was far weaker than they’d guessed.
She had no idea how Pauline would react to it. If she was mellow, she might well take the news better, or it could mean that she already knew and had finally succumbed to a total mental breakdown.
Then again, Johnny appeared equally chill. Lia found herself wishing that Sven was present to balance things out. He was busy hunting down another possible gang alliance.
Pauline took her place at the head of the room, but unusually, she slouched against the podium. “Good morning. How are things?”
Lia blinked. “I’m fine, Pauline, thank you. I hope nothing happened on your way to work. Did you see the, ah, story?”
Johnny leaned back in his seat and laughed in a calm, pleasant way that was quite unlike him. “Nah. What story?”
“Yes,” Pauline echoed, “what do you mean?” She sounded mildly curious but mostly bored.
Clearing her throat and hoping she wasn’t about to walk into a minefield, Lia related the “special report” on the news and all it had contained, as well as what was in the accompanying print story and the high points of the public commentary she’d seen on both. The gist was that out of the blue, the press and some of the common people were turning against their nemesis.
Pauline’s attention wavered once or twice during Lia’s account, as though she didn’t much care. She said at the end, “Oh, I guess that’s good. It might make things simpler. It seems like all has been well lately, though, hasn’t it?”
“Yup,” Johnny agreed.
Lia squirmed, briefly entertaining the thought that her co-workers had been replaced by alien replicants.
“Uh, things are not terrible,” she pointed out, “but I thought it might concern you. It changes how we approach this from a PR perspective and could affect both our potential alliances and our product flow, though probably in a positive way. Also, may I ask how things went last night?”
How To Be A Badass Witch: Book Three Page 17