Chapter 2
CAELIA
“Dad, I have a few minutes before I have to get going,” I say, smiling warmly as I step into the kitchen.
His house is cozy. It’s not at all the bachelor pad I thought it would be. He gruffly told me that he pays someone biweekly to clean for him, and that he’s learned a few things about surviving on his own.
I think he’s being ironic, because I know very well that he’s an excellent cook. He learned and burned his way into the skill set while I was growing up, and then taught me how to properly fend for myself so I wouldn’t have to go through the same mistakes.
I just know that the team keeps him very busy, and it makes it difficult to stay on top of things like cleaning. I’m glad he’s hiring out for things that he doesn’t have time for.
“Have some toast at least before you go,” he urges as the toaster pops up.
I’ve been played. Dad still knows me very well.
“Touchè,” I smirk, sitting at the table as he pulls out the toast and places it on a plate in front of me.
My favorite salted butter sits beside it, so I give in and eat as my stomach rumbles.
Anything other than something small will upset it when I’m a bundle of nerves, but this works.
I’ve been living here for exactly a week, and today is my first day of work.
It feels really weird to be living with my father again.
The first bite of my perfectly buttered toast is sublime, making me hum happily as I chew.
“That’s very cute. You can’t run out of the house without eating. I swear you even look especially thin. I need to make sure you’re eating enough,” Dad grumbles. “Tell me about what you’re doing at this job again. I’m trying to wrap my old man brain around it.”
“You’re really not that old,” I mutter, taking a sip of water. “This shop has tarot card readings, vampire lore, art prints from local artists, and more. It’s two floors of an experience for both locals and tourists. My job is to create videos that will draw people there.”
“How’s the pay?” he asks suspiciously. “It feels odd that someone would pay for this, though I did hear once that New Orleans tourists research the area extensively before their vacations.”
“It’s like twenty-eight grand a year and I’m being hired on a trial basis to make sure I fit what they want,” I wince. “It’s not amazing, but I can pick up work in the city easily if I need extra money.”
“I don’t want you to bartend,” Dad murmurs. “I’ll worry about how safe you are driving home.”
“New Orleans is pretty safe, and I have a knife in my pocket, Dad,” I murmur. “I’m wearing scent blockers, and I’ve been taking self defense classes. I can take care of myself.”
“I know,” he grumbles. “Bartending is the first thing that came to mind. There are a lot of bars in the French Quarter.”
“I love the history of the area,” I admit. “I’ve been doing a lot of reading on it, and I think I could get a job doing ghost tours. Who is going to mess with me when they’re worried about the ghosts of New Orleans following them home for the crimes?”
“Now you’re successfully creeping me out,” Dad decides. “This is a very interesting look you’re sporting these days, Cae.”
“Armor,” I mutter, finishing up my food. “The scarier I look, the easier it is to be ignored. That’s all I want, Dad.”
Sighing, he stares at me, and it feels like he can see too much.
“Well, make sure you chant protection spells when you park and walk to work,” he finally says, shaking his head.
“Dad, you don’t believe in that, do you?” I ask.
“Live in this city long enough, and you’ll find a lot of things will change,” he says gruffly. “If this makes you happy, then have at it.”
His unspoken words that I look very different still seem to take up space in the room, and all I can do is nod as I stand.
“You know, I didn’t want to be me anymore,” I say softly.
Dad flinches as he remains at the table, turning my words over in his mind.
“You can reinvent yourself as often as you want. That’s the beauty of being young, Caelia. Just make sure that you’re not doing it because you’re simply lost.”
I have to get moving or I’m going to cry.
I can’t walk into my first day of work with mascara streaks across my face.
That’s not the type of first impression I want to make.
My interview for this job was done through a video call.
They said that I seemed to have the type of vibe that would bring tourists to their shop because of how I looked.
I’m sure my ability to create videos and content is also factored in somehow, but I’m not going to look too closely at it. I have a job that I’m excited about, and that’s what matters.
“I’ll see you later?” I ask, my foot taking a step back to escape.
Dad’s eyes glance down at my feet before he glances back up.
“I have practice tonight. Do you want to go to dinner after? I can meet you somewhere if you don’t want to go to the rink,” he says.
“I’m not afraid of a hockey rink,” I say, trying to sound sincere. My hands shake whenever I go near one. Addie went skating with some friends and asked if I wanted to go. I lasted five minutes on the ice before I had to leave.
I hate that my love of skating has been tainted. It used to be my happy place, where I’d throw on some ear buds and just be when there was no one on the ice and my dad was working in his office.
All that may be gone forever now.
“Are you sure?” he asks. “I don’t think I’ll ever trust anyone near you again, no matter how high I hold them in esteem. I can, however, get you time on the ice with no one around if that’s ever something you want. It’ll just be me running plays from the bench. You know, in case you miss skating.”
“You’re a mind reader, aren’t you?” I ask. “Is that something new that you also picked up in New Orleans?”
Dad barks out a laugh, standing to come hug me.
“Mind reader? No. I’m your father, and even though we’ve been apart, I still know you,” he says. “What is this new perfume you’re wearing though?”
Breathing in his usual woodsy scent, I shake my head.
“Would you believe me if I told you that it’s how I keep people from getting too close? It’s patchouli oil.”
“It’s different,” he grumbles. “I have to say it’s working.”
I didn’t bother with any of this while I’ve been puttering around the house, not until today. My dad is getting a front row seat to who I am when I have to leave the house.
“Do you want me to let you know when I get to work?” I ask, leaning into his protective instincts.
“Please,” Dad says. “You’ll let me know about dinner?”
“I will,” I promise, fixing the strap of my shoulder bag as I begin walking toward the front door. “Have a good day!”
Slipping outside, I smile as he locks up behind me. It’s nice to know that there’s someone who expects me home, and cares if I get somewhere safely. Walking down the stairs of the porch, I breathe in the humid air. Everything is green here, and it’s a gorgeous day.
My fishnet tights are covered in ghoulish skulls, and I’m wearing one of my favorite oversized t-shirts over a black skirt with a pair of combat boots.
My knife is hidden underneath my skirt, and it’s a comfortable outfit to begin filming content.
My bag is filled with things that I’ll need and a microphone, but I need to walk around the store’s neighborhood so I can entice people to come check it out.
Getting into my car, I drive to work, biting my lip at the traffic.
“Holy shit,” I whisper, happy to find a parking spot near the store. “Okay, now that I’m here…am I allowed to park in this spot, is the question.”
I look around for any hints that this is a two hour parking spot, and finding none, take my first breath since I left the house.
Sighing, I get out of the car and lock it, my thumb quickly typing out a message to my dad to let him know I’ve arrived.
I still have a few minutes before I have to be at the shop, so I look around as I walk there.
There aren’t many other shops here, but there are a few cute restaurants. I can recommend that people stop by here as they walk around before or after eating. My mind races with possibilities as I bypass the cute sign on the sidewalk to open the door to the shop as I search for Jonna, the owner.
Not seeing her, I push my hair behind my shoulders as I approach the person behind a counter.
“Hi,” I say with a small smile. “I’m Caelia. It’s my first day working here.”
The girl’s wide blue eyes flick up at me, her head canting to the side as she gazes at me.
“Don’t you think you’re trying too hard?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask, my boots scuffing against the wood floor as I stare back. Is she talking about my clothing?
“Nothing,” she mutters. “I’m Taylor. I’ll go get Jonna from you. She’s in the back.”
Taylor disappears into the store, and I can’t help the shiver of concern.
I take deep breaths as I say affirmations in my mind, reminding myself that I’m strong and capable.
It’s hard enough to start a new job, but even more difficult when people immediately look down at you that you’ll have to work with.
A woman with a brightly colored skirt and black top hurries out, and I recognize her from my video call.
“Hi, Jonna,” I say politely, feeling a little better when I see her wide smile.
“Caelia, welcome to the store. Do you have a game plan by chance for your first day?” she asks.
I thought I’d get at least a tour, but I hold back those words.
“I want to get some clips of the store sign at the front, which is pretty, along with highlights of the things visitors may see when they come by,” I explain.
“My plan is to record content so it can be uploaded over time on social media so that it’s easier for people to view when they’re looking for things to do in New Orleans.
Clips on the artists who have their prints here to showcase their work are also great. ”