Page 6 of Fairies Never Fall

“Gee, thanks.” I grin back, relief loosening me up.

It feels good.

Maybe I can do this.

Orion has me stay for the whole shift. I’m a little nervous, but I can roll with it. The rest of the staff trickles in as we’re doing prep and he introduces me to them — there’s the cook, Larch, the dishwasher, Mara, and another bartender, Plato. They all seem nice enough, but honestly, the introductions start to blend together. Orion gives me a sympathetic smile.

“It’s a lot, huh?”

“How long have you worked here?”

“Oh, years,” he says. “Syril’s good to me. I owe it to them to stick around.”

I’m curious to meet this Syril person, but by the time the club opens they haven’t shown. Even though it’s a Wednesday the club is packed a couple hours after opening. Orion has me do tables until the waitstaff get in. They only serve appies, but it stretches my skills. Still, it’s surprisingly fun. I get more than a few double takes, but everyone is friendly.

“Am I out of uniform?” I ask Orion finally. “Or is a new guy just that much of a novelty?”

“Oh yeah.” His brow crinkles. “We get a lot of regulars here. They’ll get used to seeing you.”

It’s a busy night, but it’s not unmanageable even though I eventually have to break out the cheat sheet. I’m finally getting into the rhythm. Then I see him.

It’s the guy from Maddox’s office — the pretty one.

He looks different. His hair is loose around his shoulders and it’slong, like down-to-his-ass long. I have the weirdest urge to know what it feels like. He’s wearing a tunic-like shirt with loose, velvety pants. He doesn’t look like he belongs at a club at all.

His eyes widen when he sees me. For a second we just stare at each other.

For some reason, I get a flicker of nerves. What’s he doinghere? It’s just a coincidence, right?

“Your High — uhhh. Lysander.” Orion comes up behind me. “I’ll have Larch make you dinner soon.”

“I’m here for a drink,” Pretty Boy interrupts. “Who’s this?”

“Our new bartender.”

I wipe my hand clean on the bar apron and hold it out. “Ezra Pine.”

“Oh, don’t —” Orion begins.

Pretty Boy gives my hand a horrified look. “Lysander,” he replies coolly, not taking it.

I drop my hand. O-okay.

“What can I get you?”

“I’ll show you how to make his drink.” Orion steers me away by the elbow to the other side of the bar.

“What’s with him?” I mutter.

“He’s just a bit… particular.” Orion gives me an apologetic smile. “He lives upstairs. Syril rents out some guest rooms up there, kind of like a long-term hotel.”

Particulardoesn’t seem to sum it up —pretentiousseems more likely. But I let it go. I don’t want to put a foot wrong with Orion, who’s been cool so far, even if I’ve already apparently offended one of the regulars.

Orion whips up a complicated, over-sweet mess topped with a sugar rim, whipped cream, and a maraschino cherry — and no booze. My stomach churns uncomfortably and I make a face. He laughs.

“Yeah. Don’t, uh, don’t tell him I said this, but in my opinion, it’s a bit much.” He reaches under the bar and takes out an unlabeled bottle. “Plus a splash of this.”

“Is that some kind of import?”

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