Chapter 4
Bluebell
“How’s the Bodice? Tell me everything.” My best friend, Lemon, sips a pumpkin mead as her mate, Furyon, drops onto the barstool next to hers.
I wipe the bar down before placing two menus in front of them, not that they even need a menu at this point.
I swear they eat at Whiskey Biz at least three nights a week, always when I’m working.
Great tippers, too, even though I’ve argued about them tipping me like I’m their kid who finally got a job.
“Lem, it’s not what I thought,” I admit as I go back to wiping the bar down, even though it’s spotless and still early in the evening.
She frowns, dark blond brows furrowing into an elegant vee.
Her itty bitty fangs peek over the edges of her mead tankard.
Setting it down, she cocks her head to the side, perfect blonde waves hanging over her neck and chest to highlight the swirling vampiric house tattoos covering her large breasts.
She’s so fucking pretty, it’s sickening.
“I hate you,” I mutter. “You’re too pretty to be real.”
Furyon smirks, black lips pulling into a satisfied smile as he slides an arm around his beautiful mate.
“It’s not fair,” I snap, tossing a rag at Lemon.
She catches it easily, dropping it back onto the countertop. “Stop changing the subject, Bluebell Tucker. What’s wrong with the Bodice?”
I sigh. “Well, it’s been three days since I took over and what’s not wrong? The back room is actually a mess with no organizational system I can suss out. The building is upset at having been left, I think, but doesn’t want any help from me. It’s just not what I thought I was getting into.”
Furyon eyes me. “So she doesn’t want your help? How do you know?”
“We just didn’t get off to a great start, and I’m getting weird vibes. I’m sure it’ll be fine, though.”
“It’s probably just an adjustment period,” Lemon says smoothly. “Kinda like me and the Keeper’s house.”
“We still can’t figure that one out,” Furyon supplies helpfully. “You ain’t our Keeper, Lemon, but that mansion loves you.”
She shrugs but beams. “Tough not to love someone so sweet and kind, ya know?”
“And humble,” I tack on. “Want to come to the Bodice and see if you can make her like me? I don’t know what I’m gonna do if she doesn’t come around.”
“Well, it’s been less than a week since you took over, right?” Furyon grabs Lemon’s menu, stacks it on his, and sets them both aside. “You’re gonna be fine, Bluebell. You’ve known that business your entire life. It’s just gonna take a minute, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me sweetheart,” I say, making a fake barfing sound. “Save the sweetiepies for your sweetiepie and the Valentines shindig. Or, shit, even the Christmas or Yule celebrations.”
“Give us our usuals,” Furyon says, sliding the menus toward me.
“Me too,” shouts Oz as he appears in the doorway, an auburn pit hell female trailing after him. He crosses the bar and flops onto a stool next to Lemon. The pit hell hops up next to him and leans forward, resting her chin on the edge of the bar.
Oz shuffles his big leathery wings and pets her head. “Bacon cheeseburger for my girl here, please. I named her Ginger, finally!”
I reach over and stroke the half pit bull, half hellhound’s silky snoot, looking at Oz. “She finally bond with you?”
He shakes his head, stealing Lemon’s mead and downing it in one big gulp. Smacking his black-painted lips, he looks at me. “Naw, but any moment, I’m sure. Which would be cool because then I’d have, like, a personal bodydog, you know, like a bodyguard?”
“Maybe she’d like a gift,” Lemon says thoughtfully.
“What do you think the bacon cheeseburger’s for?” Oz rolls his eyes.
Lemon matches his expression. “I was talking to Bluebell about the Bodice. I’m saying maybe the Bodice would like some gifts since she’s a store.”
I turn and punch Lemon and Furyon’s orders into the point-of-sale. Once I hit submit, I slide a menu over the bar to Oz. He doesn’t tend to branch out in his orders either, but I might as well do the job I’m hired to do. Unless only the dog’s eating…
Lemon does karaoke while Furyon and Oz chat over drinks.
The pup’s burger comes out first, and Oz chops it into small pieces for her.
She eats with delicate, quick movements, eyes darting around the bar.
She’s so cautious, looking constantly to Oz for reassurance.
He strokes her with his big purple fingers, his touch delicate.
When she’s done, she crawls into his lap, and despite being probably sixty pounds, she tucks her head up into his shoulder-length hair and falls asleep in his arms. He wraps a wing around her, cradling her body, which makes him look like a human with a wing-shaped baby carrier.
Big ole sweeties, all of the Gulch’s pit hells. Most of them run wild, although they’re all friendly. This one’s been following Oz around for a while, though. I suspect a little love story is happening, which is pretty adorable since Oz moved here to escape a love story with a shitty ending.
He deserves this.
“I’ve got an appointment with a supplier in Santa Alaya tomorrow. They’ve got some cool gear that’s very you-inspired,” I say to Lemon. “So I’m hoping the Bodice will be on board for some nifty new things, a little change of pace.”
“Tell her I asked for it,” Lemon says with a shrug. “She’s always happy to accommodate a customer, in my experience. And I’m in there a lot.”
“I know you are,” I say with a snort. “You’re gonna help me keep the lights on in that place.”
We share a laugh at that. I can’t even imagine what Furyon’s credit card looks like now that she’s gotten ahold of it.
“Between outfits from the Bodice and potions antiques from the Auction House, you’re gonna keep me workin’ til I’m dead,” Furyon says with a wink at his mate, which answers my question.
She shrugs. “Happy to pay for it myself, if it’s an issue, Ranger Zayle.”
Hoboy. They’ve started flirting at the bar, which means one or both of them’ll be doing karaoke again soon, and then I’ll be thanking the gods I don’t have monster senses for the pheromone display.
Oz’ll comment on it though.
Lemon smiles at me. “Can you grab me some cool things for the Keeper’s mansion? Anything you see that’s gothic but a little more modern? I’ve got a troll builder coming to town later this week to work on some foundation issues, and then I can finish fixing up the back of the house.”
Oz leans forward, cradling the pit hell against his chest. “And then what, Lem? It’s not like you’re gonna move in.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not, but we don’t have a Town Hall or a haven Keeper, and I think the mansion could kinda function like one.
We’re doing a lot of hiring at the potions house, and I’d like to use the mansion’s formal living room as a temporary space.
The light’s great, and the house is on board.
So’s Rykan; he’d have to okay it, of course, since he’s running the potions house now. ”
We talk about that for a while, and Whiskey Business acknowledges her approval by shimmying the chunky ceiling beams.
My shift slows to a crawl after Lemon leaves. Thankfully, Oz sticks around to close down the bar, even though he’s not working. The pit hell ducks into a bed beneath the bar, falling asleep with her long legs tucked beneath her.
Once she’s snoring, Oz leans against the bartop and smirks at me.
I throw the rag over my shoulder. “What? Got something in your eye, Ozifer?”
He shrugs but the smirk remains. “Just noticing that pretty new necklace. Lemme guess…Hadrian?”
I return to my work, tossing the rag down and rubbing at nonexistent spots on the bartop. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”
“Still just friends, hmm?” He grabs a second rag and joins me in rubbing water spots that aren’t there.
“Oh yeah,” I lie. Hadrian hasn’t been ‘just a friend’ in my brain for many years, but it’s a secret I’ve got to keep to myself. “If I went on a date with Hay, Jasper would shit a literal brick.”
Oz laughs. “So?”
“Soooo….” I draw the word out long. “That just sounds like more shit to deal with and I am up to my ears in shit.”
“Heard,” he mutters, and thankfully that’s the end of that.
Eventually I abandon him at the bar and head to Lizard Lick Saloon to do the final couple hours until closing. My muscles are dog-tired…It’s been such a long week. But there’s no rest for the weary, I suppose.
When I step inside, the floor planks wriggle in a path all the way to the bar, the building showing me where to go.
“Sweet girl,” I whisper as I rub my fingers just inside the door, leaving a happy spark of magic. The saloon is full to the brim with monsters eating and drinking.
Behind the bar, a cute minotaur male winks at me as he rubs a wet rag over the wooden surface. “Bluebell, I hope you’re ready for a long night, girl. The minotaur social club is on a roll this evenin’.”
I let out a groan, glancing around him at the large group of minotaurs at the single long table in the back of the bar.
I shoot the bartender a knowing look. “Monthly poker tournament?”
He grins and nods, so I wave him out from behind the bar. “Git. I know you’re dying to join them and fleece someone again this month.”
He bends down and kisses the top of my head. “Thanks, friend.”
* * *
The following morning, I walk briskly through the portal between Pine Gulch and the Grand Portal Station at haven system headquarters. Thankfully, my trip to Mexico’s Santa Alaya haven will be quick now that the station connects every hidden monster community.
One of the downsides of the haven system used to be that each monster community was only connected to one other. Originally, it was meant to be a security measure but it made travel a real nightmare. These days, those worries are forgotten.
The haven system is safe. Safe from thrall attacks and monsters who don’t want to live within our system for one reason or another.