Joaquin sighed. “Guess I’m getting called in to work later.”
All the tables were taken, and it looked like we weren’t going to find a seat. Then I spotted Krista and Fisher in the booth farthest from the door. I was surprised Fisher was up so early, considering I’d heard him sneak Darcy back into the house after 3 a.m. As he lifted a hand to flag us down, Krista turned around in her seat like an excited kindergartner.
“What’re they doing here?” I asked Joaquin, stifling a yawn.
“They wanted to come,” he replied.
“Hi, Rory!” Krista patted the blue vinyl seat next to her, and I slid into it, while Joaquin squeezed in next to Fisher, the two of them taking up the entire bench. There was a half-full glass of orange smoothie in front of Fisher, but Krista had only water.
“What’s up?” Fisher asked, his light green eyes almost startling so close up.
“No one else has been ushered since yesterday morning,” Joaquin reported.
“And I got to sleep in my bed last night,” Krista assured me, touching my leg, as if her and Tristan’s getting back into their house had been weighing on me all night long.
“Um, good,” I said. I reached for the saltshaker, just to have something to do with my trembling hands. “That’s good.”
“Fisher brought someone over two days ago, and they ended up in the Shadowlands, too,” Joaquin explained.
“No way Alec should’ve gone there,” Fisher said, taking a long pull on his straw. “No way. Dude was a priest.”
“Really?” I asked, passing the glass saltshaker back and forth on the table’s surface.
Fisher squirmed and cleared his throat. “No, I mean, not literally, but in his life he sure as hell acted like one.”
Krista giggled, and everyone stared at her. “Sorry.”
“What’ll you kids have?” Ursula asked, appearing at the end of our table. She looked at Joaquin as if the rest of us weren’t even there.
“Good morning, Ursula,” Joaquin said with a smile. “You’re looking rather fetching today.”
Ursula sniffed. “Don’t even try it. You left the seat up again this morning.”
Fisher chuckled and shook his head.
“Did I? I’m sorry. I swear I’ll make it up to you,” Joaquin teased.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before.” She sniffed again. This time her gaze flicked around the table. “So what’ll you have?”
“Um, coffee?” Krista said.
“Coffee’s fine,” I added. Ursula glared down at the still-moving saltshaker, and I stopped, blushing. “Sorry.”
She cleared her throat and looked at Joaquin.
“I’ll have the Spanish omelet with extra peppers, a side of fries, and a short stack of pancakes,” Joaquin said. “Oh, and chocolate milk.”
“It’s your intestines.” She shoved her pen behind her ear and started to turn. “And don’t forget to pick up some tea bags on your way home.”
“What’s your obsession with tea lately?” Joaquin asked. “I’ve never seen you drink tea before this week.”
Ursula scowled. “Just get the tea.”
“Slave driver,” Joaquin said with a grin. For a split second, I thought she was going to smile, but then she was gone.
“She’s in a mood,” Fisher commented.
“Right? She’s been like that for a few days,” Joaquin replied, rubbing his palms on his thighs. “Like instant personality shift.”