The Feline Gaze - Page 51

I scurried to the back of the café and knocked on the door to the office.

“Come in.”

I yanked the door open and peered inside. Tony was sitting at his desk with his ankles crossed over the top. He looked bored out of his mind.

“What do you want, Maxine?” He asked.

“It’s Max,” I said. “Not Maxine. And there’s a customer who wants a free bagel.”

“We don’t give out bagels for free,” Tony said with a yawn. He was obviously bored. He was always bored at the café.

“I know, but he said that his drink was wrong and he wants to be compensated with free food.”

Tony glared at me and got up with a huff. He acted like it was my fault that he was the manager of the café or that he had to leave the safety of his office to come do his actual job. Whatever. I’d been dealing with Tony ever since I started working at the café. He was neither a good boss nor a team player, so I tried to stay as far away from him as possible. Besides, something about Tony made me uncomfortable, and I couldn’t quite pinpoint why.

“Is there a problem, Lionel?” Tony asked the tall man.

“Yeah, your em-ploy-ee,” he dragged the word out sarcastically. “Messed up my drink. I asked her nicely if she could fix it.”

“Not a problem,” Tony said. He jerked his head toward one of my coworkers. “Maggie, make Lionel a new drink.”

Maggie shot me a nasty look but nodded and started the drink. The café wasn’t busy and the drink wasn’t complicated, so I wasn’t sure what the big deal was. Actually, I had the distinct feeling that Lionel’s original drink had been just fine, but that he wanted a bagel out of the deal.

Correction: he wanted a free bagel.

Tony and Lionel sat and chatted while Maggie made the drink. I cleaned up the spill on the counter before starting to check our inventory. I wasn’t a magic user, so I couldn’t just summon cups whenever we ran out of something we needed. Instead, I’d have to trot back to the stockroom, find what we needed, and carry it back. It was kind of a drag for everyone, which was just another reason nobody liked me.

By the time I left work that day, I was tired, exhausted, and spent.

And I knew my grandmother was going to be beyond pissed that I was late.

*

I ran up the steps to the little log cabin where I lived with my Grandmother. My heart was pounding, racing, and I silently begged it to stop. Slow down. It needed to chill out, to be honest. Overreacting never turned out well for anyone, least of all me.

I smelled sweaty and I was tired: both signs that I left work much later than I should have. I didn’t want her to give me a hard time about it. Mémère had enough to worry about. She didn’t need to be concerned that my boss still wasn’t letting me leave on time or that my customers were constantly giving me a hard time.

That’s the price I paid to work at a café in Brooksville.

Nobody liked me because I was poor, and an orphan, and I couldn’t do magic.

All of those elements combined to make me one of the most disliked people in town. Despite trying to have a charming personality and showing kindness to the people around me, I somehow still managed to catch the eye of every magic-user within shouting distance, and not in a good way.

I glanced down at my work clothes. My once-white blouse was now splattered with coffee, no thanks to Maggie and Justine for their “assistance” at work. My jeans had fared just as poorly. They had a few new stains, a new tear, and smelled slightly questionable. I sighed. Mémère was definitely going to notice something was wrong.

I hated to make her worry.

I hated to make her sad.

She worked so hard to raise me, to take care of me, that the idea of letting her down again filled me with stress and anxiety. I wished for the millionth time that I could use magic. I wished that I had a wand, that I knew spells, or that I had, you know,powers. I wished that I could whisper a few carefully practiced words and somehow whip up an appearance she could be proud of.

But I couldn’t.

In my case, practice hadn’t made perfect.

I stared at the front door of our home for a long minute. My breathing finally began to stabilize and I began to feel like everything was going to be okay. Maybe it would. Maybe everything would be fine. One bad day at work wouldn’t kill me.

A hundred bad days at work wouldn’t kill me.

Tags: Sophie Stern Fantasy
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