The Way

by Mary E. Twomey

  He did not look impressed, but he slid off his jacket to indicate that he would bless them with his presence. “I’m Steve. How late do you stay open?”

  As he spoke to the girls, Blue could tell that he was trying not to breathe the scent of sulfur that all changed Vemreaux could smell on the skin of A-bloods. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

  Grettel’s waitress apron was already off, as was the weight of the world. She almost skipped over to the hook that held the cooking aprons and twirled the strings of the white covering into a happy bow. Then she picked up an order from the nail the waitresses placed them on and started filling it.

  “Happy about something, midget?” Baird asked with a smirk. He was almost as relieved as she was that she did not have to go out and smile amongst the wolves.

  “Oh, you know me,” she almost sang. “Just glad to be at work.” Her grin was giddy.

  Baird laughed, drawing the eyes of the wait staff. The Femreaux, Stephanie, still did not look up from the stack of recipes, making them all wonder how much help she’d be to them at this rate.

  Though all Vemreaux had beautification available to them to partake of before their appearance was frozen for one hundred twenty years, it did more for some than for others. Steve had brown greasy hair and a smattering of freckles that almost changed his skin tone from pale white to a spotted brown. His black eyes were set beneath one eyebrow that really should have been two, and he had so much dirt under his fingernails that Elle was glad he wasn’t bringing her any food or drink. She was just as disgusted with him as he was with them.

  The girls took him out into the dining area to show him how the tables should be divided. It was decided that when the outdoor vicinity opened, Elle would take that and leave Blue and Steve to tend to the two sections inside. Though Blue was not thrilled with this idea, she kept it to herself, knowing that she could better handle Steve than Elle. The two had already descended from a veiled dislike to out and out criticism.

  “I’m just saying, you could’ve at least washed that gunk out from under your fingernails, since you’re going to be serving food and all. You think people want to see the nature center you’re growing under there?” She snapped when her third hint that he should wash his hands went over his head.

  “Yeah, well all the soap in the world wouldn’t do a thing for that stink coming offa you. Ever hear of perfume? I wouldn’t want my food brought to me with the cloud of rotten eggs you’d bring along with it.”

  Elle fumed at this socially inappropriate insult.

  Blue excused herself to go check on her tables and seat a new group of Vemreaux waiting at the hostess stand. She sensed it would be a long night with the two of them going back and forth, and she was right.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Stone Boniface

  Brody could tell Liam was trying to say something, but the fifth downed shot was beginning to affect the prince’s speech. That, or the techno had addled his brain, as Alec was fond of warning them.

  “What?” Brody shouted.

  “Where’s Sam?” Liam repeated.

  “Sam?” Brody clarified. “In the bathroom with some Fem.”

  “Sweet! Then we can stay a little longer?”

  “What?”

  Liam tired of yelling to his friend and motioned for Brody to move away from the speaker. The club was packed, so weaving through the crowd with his guard took a little strategy. Eventually, they found their way to the bar where Alec was sitting.

  Alec tapped his watch, not bothering to speak the words that would only provoke whining requests from the prince to stay longer. Alec had consumed what he hoped was his last mozzarella stick ever, and wiped the grease from his hands onto a napkin.

  Brody shook his head when Alec made to stand. “Sam’s not ready.”

  Alec pulled out his phone and texted his friend. “What’s he doing?”

  “Who. Who’s he doing.” Liam winked, unable to stop bopping just because he left the dance floor.

  “Oh, brother. I’m not waiting around for that.” Alec punched in another irritated message to Sam. “We have to get you to the testing in a little bit. First round starts in a few hours. Plus, you’ve got golf in the morning with Ronald Cho.”

  “Push it back!” Liam exclaimed, fist in the air. His swaying hips moved closer to Alec as he indulged in a suggestive groove, happy to annoy his guard.

  “Owner of Amsteron doesn’t push things back, Li. And get off me,” Alec grumbled, elbowing his charge back a few paces. “If Sam’s not out here in five, I’m going in there, and it won’t be pretty.”

  “Five minutes?” Liam confirmed. “That’s a whole song! See ya!” The prince escaped back to the crowd of partiers before Alec could protest.

  Alec waved for Brody to follow Liam. Wrangling the prince took at least twenty minutes at every attempt, and only made Alec surlier each time. He drank the rest of his water and tried to flag down the bartender for a refill, but the employee was swamped with people ordering more costly drinks. Alec sighed, wishing for pancakes and a chair that had an actual back to it. He was tired of barstools and bar food and barflies. And even though it was only slightly past dinnertime, Alec was just plain tired.

  He was about to go looking for Sam when he spotted the messy dark brown hair approaching. Alec flagged him down, noting the disheveled appearance that left little mystery as to what he’d been up to. “Time to go,” Alec stated when Sam reached him at the bar.

  “Need me to grab Liam?”

  “Yeah. You coming back to the hotel with us?”

  “Of course. We finished.”

  Alec sighed. “Did this one at least give you her name?”

  “You mean did she give ‘Stone Boniface’ her name? I dunno. Probably. I didn’t think to ask.”

  “You know that your fake name makes you sound dumb as a rock, right?”

  Sam’s expression drew up in confusion. “What? No, it doesn’t. Stone sounds cool. Badass from Europe.” He shook his head. “Stone didn’t call you back? Must be because he’s tearing it up overseas on his motorbike.”

  “Or because he’s waiting for his best friend’s nanny to make him a cup of tea.”

  “Stone doesn’t drink tea. He drinks beer. American beer!” Sam pushed his fists together at his stomach and flexed. “Then he crushes the can on his head!”

  “Stone, Brick, Pan, Sam…whatever you’re calling yourself these days, go get Liam. I’ll bring the car around.”

  Sam tried to flag down Brody, but with all the jumping bodies and waving hands, it was near impossible to be seen. He had no choice; he simply had to go back onto the dance floor.

  Instead of forging his way through the crowd, Sam picked the most scantily-clad Femreaux in easy reach and made his way to her. She had dyed blonde hair with brown streaks, teased into a do that Sam was positive would start on fire with all the product she’d put in it. She was dancing with four girlfriends, who all smiled flirtatiously when Sam approached.

  “Wow,” he commented appreciatively to the one with the skimpiest outfit. “You look amazing.”

  “Thanks! Not so bad yourself. I’m Penny.”

  Sam smirked. “Stone. Stone Boniface. You also look like you want to help me find my friend. Ladies, mind if I borrow your queen for a minute?” Sam explained his plan in as few sentences as possible. He’d done this no less than once a week ever since he’d started bar-hopping with Liam. It was more effective than going to the prince. Best make the prince come to him.

  Penny fell for the devious smirk. She fell for the handsome features and the alluring European accent. She fell for the eye contact that made her feel the special one to garner such a sexy Vemreaux’s attention. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to his hands on her hips as he turned her around. Penny shrieked as Sam tossed her in the air, catching her deftly on her way down.

  The buxom beauty’s barely covered bosoms bounced, catching the eye of most men in the vicinity, some of whom cheered. Liam’s finger shot up
from the sea of faces, indicating to Sam that he’d received the signal and was on his way over.

  Penny giggled as Sam spun her around. Her arms flew around his neck as Sam indulged the flushed woman in a few beats of a dance while he waited for Liam and Brody.

  Penny’s tongue was in Sam’s mouth by the time Liam’s fingers slowly crept up Sam’s side. “Ah! Liam, get off!” Sam protested, pulling away from the kiss.

  If Sam had his way of breaking Liam from the crowd, Liam had his own manner of pulling Sam away from his lust-filled trysts. “Whoa!” the prince commented. “She looks exactly like your mum, Stone! Amazing!” Liam turned to Penny. “Do me a favor and say, ‘Stone! Eight-year-olds don’t need to breastfeed!’ in that exact voice!”

  Penny pulled back, horrified. “Um, thanks for the dance,” she said as she ran back to her friends.

  “Thanks for that,” Sam muttered. “And you know my mum’s a brunette and looks nothing like that one.”

  “Yeah, but she doesn’t know that. I got your signal. We gotta go, yeah?”

  “You know…” Sam ran his hands through his hair, searching for a jab good enough to toss at his best friend.

  “You love me?” Liam suggested, finishing Sam’s sentence to his own liking.

  “Not right now, no.”

  Liam’s grin was unabashed as he bopped toward the exit, grabbing a discarded drink from the bar and downing the dregs as they left.

  Chapter Twenty

  Grettel’s Confession

  Though Grettel’s anxiety spiked at being alone with the Femreaux in the kitchen when Baird left to tend bar, she was grateful for the help. Compared with what she thought would be her position for the rest of the week, her relief smoothed over the ridges of fear that usually etched into her forehead.

  More drinks were ordered than meals, and the two cooks had some downtime to contend with, though not enough for the Femreaux to go home. Grettel began turning over things in the kitchen that she rarely had the time to clean and gave them a good scrubbing while the Femreaux talked on her phone to just about everyone she knew as she prepped food for the next day.

  When it seemed she reached the end of her lengthy call list, Stephanie turned to make the best of the night by conversing with the shy Grettel. She pulled up a photo album on her phone and waved the small girl over. “Come look at my pictures of Asia. Went their last year on vacation. Pretty, right?” She flipped through the photos quickly, adding a short commentary here and there.

  Grettel was enthralled; she’d never seen pictures from another country.

  “Do you live around here?”

  Grettel nodded, but didn’t know if she was allowed to tell her exactly where. Baird so coveted their privacy. Her shyness often kept her from saying things he’d rather she didn’t.

  “I live about twenty-five kilometers north in Capital City.” She said as she shut her phone. “Are you going to see the parade when it starts out?”

  Grettel nodded, the childlike gleam in her eyes conveying her interest in being there in person. “I want to see the jugglers,” she confessed with very little volume to her voice.

  “What’s that?” Stephanie asked for some amplification as she pulled a basket of potato wedges and turnips from the fryer.

  “The jugglers. I want to see them.”

  Stephanie laughed. “I can’t wait to see the Vemreaux on stilts as high as a building. I always secretly want to go up there and push them over, just to see if I can.”

  Grettel gasped at the scandalous confession.

  The Femreaux laughed again. “I wouldn’t actually do it. But every time I see them walking around like that, I just get the urge, you know?” She dumped the wire container’s fried contents into three napkin-lined woven baskets. “Do you ever feel like that about anything? Like you can see yourself doing something dangerous or bad, but you know you’d never really do it?”

  Grettel looked from left to right nervously, as if someone would be there to arrest her upon answering the question. She paused for so long that the Femreaux gave up the hope of occupying their time with a conversation. She hadn’t known or worked with many Waywards personally, and she wondered if they were all this skittish around the Vemreaux.

  Grettel surprised Stephanie by leaning forward and answering like she might get caught and thrown in prison with such unruly thoughts. “Sometimes,” Grettel said, her eyes darting around again like a cornered animal. “Sometimes I can see myself knocking over that tray of straws over there. I think about it every day at least once.” Quickly, she held her hands up before the Femreaux could judge her too harshly. “I’ve never ever done it, but,” she looked wistfully at the tall pile of clear straws with red lines down the sides, “I think they’d look pretty all messy on the floor.” She put her hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking anything more outrageous. Grettel hoped that the Femreaux wouldn’t tell on her for it.

  Stephanie stared at the girl in confusion for a moment before letting out the loudest laugh she’d permitted in quite a while.

  Grettel jumped back at the eruption, but then slowly relaxed and shared in the levity when it died down into a giggle. Tears peppered Stephanie’s cheeks with the joy at hearing such an inoffensive confession.

  “You act like you’re talking about committing a murder or something. I’ll tell you what, if you knock over that pile of straws, I’ll help you pick them up so quick that no one will ever know.”

  Grettel gasped and shook her head so fast that Stephanie was surprised her eyes did not rattle.

  “Go on. I think it’d be good for you.” When Grettel still didn’t look convinced, Stephanie whined. “Oh, come on! I can never do mine in real life. That’ll always be something I think about. But you can do yours and no one’ll get hurt! Please, Grettel? I swear, no one will ever know. We can even put down napkins on the floor so that they won’t have to be thrown out.” This slowed Grettel’s resistance. “Come on! I’d do it myself, but I think it’d be good for you to be a little reckless. It wouldn’t be the same if I did it. I don’t think it would even count.”

  Grettel paused in the throes of her existential crisis. The debate in her head was so furious that she feared she might lose her mind if she did not make a decision soon. “You’ll help me pick them up?”

  Stephanie nodded vigorously, her black eyes twinkling with glee. “So fast, no one’ll ever know. It’ll be our little secret.”

  After another moment’s pause, Grettel finally moved toward the pile, eyeing it with trepidation.

  Stephanie practically danced over to the container of napkins and pulled out a few, opening them up and placing them on the ground to make a wide area for Grettel to do her damage.

  With trembling fingers, Grettel reached toward the small silver bin they were piled high in, but stopped short of touching it. “In my imagination, it’s really more of an accident,” she explained, her brow furrowed.

  “Okay.” Stephanie would not be deterred from the only fun thing that had happened that day. “So, you and I are having a conversation about cute men and we’re talking with our hands a lot. I say something like, ‘Isn’t Baird hot for an A-blood?’ And you say…”

  “Um, can we pretend to talk about something else?” Grettel was uncomfortable thinking of the safe and steady man that way.

  “Sure. Let’s talk about the sexual tension between him and that blonde waitress. What’s her name?” she asked. Stephanie looked up at the ceiling as if the name might be written up there.

  “Elle.” Grettel smiled, her eyes already gearing up to beam her amusement at the new topic. “She’s got a big crush on him,” she confessed, placing a finger across her lips to indicate that it was supposed to be a secret.

  “Talk with your hands. Remember, it has to look like an accident.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Grettel shook her head. This time spreading her hands wide, she repeated, “Elle’s got a big crush on Baird.”

  “How big?” Stephanie pointed to the shiny bin,
encouraging Grettel to go for the gold.

  “Huge!” Grettel laughed and then sucked in her breath as her hand landed on the silver tray, knocking it to the ground.

  Straws flew everywhere, soaring to heights they never imagined possible. Most of the plastic cylinders never even hoped for the independence she granted them, and they fell immediately to the floor with barely a clatter. A few practically jumped out of the bin as if they’d waited since the day they were formed for the chance to fly higher than their lifespan would allow. They all but leapt out into the air, some gracefully, and some spiraling with no thought of control. Each one parted atoms and changed the air current, no matter how unnoticeable. Those brave straws hit the floor, reveling in the reverberation that echoed up their bodies, doing justice to the exuberance they put forth for their once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

  The contained pile looked much smaller in the bin than when gravity allowed them to spread out wherever they chose on the floor. The lengthy sticks danced to their freedom, rolling as far out as they could to escape the prison of the silver tray that held them perfectly in place. A few more audacious ones rolled off of the napkin barrier and dared to sully themselves on the floor in their escape for liberty. They coveted each centimeter that belonged, for the moment, only to them.

  Grettel squealed in shock, horror and delight as they fell like matchsticks in unruly piles, strewn about at her feet like a pack of cards with no chain of command.

  All of a sudden, Grettel felt very tall and powerful. The straws, though they were free, seemed to bow to her and kiss the tops of her shoes for granting them this one moment of liberty. Some were grateful to lay flat in a place other than their silver prison, but others used those around them to stand up almost straight in the air, bragging to the world that they would not be pushed down, crushed to the ground without resistance. Grettel reached below her and lifted one such straw up, examining its beauty. Then she tucked it into the pocket of her apron with dainty hands that never possessed the strength that solitary straw did.