by Tegan Maher
Bob finished making the last of my drinks and ambled the couple of steps back to me, a concerned expression on his heavy features as he set them down.
"Don't bait him, Destiny," he pleaded under his breath. "Just find out what he wants, do it, then ignore him. He's just looking for an excuse to can you. Again."
"He can try," I said, lifting a shoulder. He'd fired me the previous summer, for three weeks until word spread to my regulars. It seemed I had a following that had some pull with the higher-ups. Not only had I been reinstated, but I'd also gotten a raise. Needless to say, that hadn't gone over well with Cassiel.
Still, I loved my job, and goodwill was a fickle beast. As a people person and a water witch who didn't want to live in the closet, the Enchanted Coast—a magical vacation resort on the Gulf of Mexico designed to meet the needs of paranormals—was the best of all worlds. So, in the interest of keeping the peace, I pivoted toward him, gritting my teeth and pasting on a smile.
"Yeah, Cass?" I said, putting everything I had into being pleasant.
Not even attempting to return the courtesy, he gestured toward the outside tables. "The place is a mess. That table needs to be bussed, and there are empty cups everywhere. And those fans are for guests only—not lazy waitresses."
I glanced around the area and ran my tongue over my teeth. "First," I said, still trying to maintain my fragile mask of civility, "that table is occupied. They're in the water. Second, there are exactly two empty cups, both of which just blew out of the trash can when you stormed by it and flexed your wings." I decided to let the fan comment drop. "But I'll get right on it."
I had no idea what the reason was for his animosity. He'd despised me from day one, even before he’d had to eat crow and hire me back. I could get along with the devil himself if he was willing to meet me halfway, but despite my efforts, Cass refused to play nice.
After a while, I'd given up. The only thing I could figure was I'd been offered his job before he was sentenced to it. I’d turned it down because I would have gotten paid less to do more after I added in my tips.
"And since you have time to stand around," he sneered, foul as always, "Go clean out the unicorn pen. People can see those rainbow turds from the hotel, and the cotton-candy smell is disgusting."
Bending over to pick up the cups, I muttered an anatomically impossible suggestion for what he could go do.
"What was that?" he asked, narrowing his bloodshot eyes at me.
I heaved a sigh. As usual, I was gonna have to be the bigger person. "Nothin' Cass," I said, waving him off as I went for the shovel. "Just ... have another drink."
With one stroke of the ginormous ashen wings that marked him as a fallen angel, he was towering over me, swaying a little, the smell of old whiskey seeping from his pores. I straightened my spine as my magic surged. The last thing I was willing to do was to give in to a bully, even if he was an angel, and my boss to boot.
"Hey Cass," a centaur named Evan called from behind him, "cut her some slack. My drink hasn't gone empty all day, and she just finished busting her ass keeping a ten-top of gorgons happy. She's earned a minute in front of the fan."
Fiona, the leader of the gorgons he was referencing, exited the bathroom in time to hear Evan's comment, patting her turban to make sure all her snakes were safely tucked away. She glided over to me and handed me an extra fifty, assessing the situation as she did so. Cass was no stranger to her, nor was he a friend.
"Thanks, sweetie. You were a doll as always," she said, giving me a faint smile along with the bill.
She peered down her nose at Cass, her lip curled in disgust. "Bitter angel. Unless you'd like a peek at my girls, I suggest you be nice."
She was talking about the ones under her turban, not the ones under her bathing-suit wrap—you know, the ones that could turn him to stone. Fascinated as everybody else was with the exchange, they turned away just in case.
"That won't be necessary," he ground out, glaring at me.
"Pity," she said, flapping a hand. "The resort could use an angel statue and it would be my pleasure to donate one." She maintained eye contact for a couple of seconds, possibly hoping he'd give her a reason, then turned and strode away.
Cass turned to me as I picked up the cups and pointed an angry, albeit shaky, finger at me. "One of these days, I'm gonna find a reason to fire you for good."
My thin veneer of respect slipped, and I spun on him, my sense of fair play offended beyond reason. I hadn't done anything to deserve his attitude.
"Yeah," I said, shoving the cups down in the can with more force than was necessary, "and one of these days, my fairy godmother’s gonna grant my wish and you'll drop dead for good. But until one of those days arrives, I guess we're stuck with each other."
How on earth could I have known then that somebody was actually going to murder him, then set me up to take the fall? Me and my big mouth.
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