Page 1 of Charmed By the Alien Warrior

Prologue

Mara

“The customer is always right.”

The woman in front of me, with teased to the heavens bottle-blonde hair, crosses her arms. Her smug smile tips up the corners of a mouth that is smeared with roast beef-colored lipstick.

In matters of taste, you entitled Karen.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my manager watching our interaction like a hawk about to swoop down on its prey. Her name actually is Karen, and she hates me. She’s hated me ever since I casually let it slip to the owner that two of the new hires are Karen’s relatives. Ever since then, she’s been looking for a reason to fire me. Too bad for her I don’t intend to give it to her. At least, not right now.

Working as a front desk agent at The Valu-Right Inn isn’t exactly my dream job, but the pay is decent and the hours are flexible enough to give me time to work on my side gig—myactualdream job. Most days I can get through a shift withoutwanting to scream. Except lately, it’s been harder. Ever since Karen got a bug up her butt about me.

But for now, I still need this job. Which means it’s time to fake it. That’s something I’ve been doing for a long time. So, I paste on my biggest and brightest customer service smile. The kind that makes my cheeks and soul ache.

“Of course, ma’am,” I say in my best professional voice. “Here at The Valu-Right Inn, we value our guests. However, our complimentary breakfast hours are from six o’clock in the morning until ten a.m. It is now one o’clockin the afternoon.”

The guest huffs dramatically, her body practically vibrating with the injustice of it all. She opens her mouth, no doubt ready to unleash another tirade about how good help is hard to find, Millennials have ruined everything, and she won’tevergrace us with her presence again. I really hope that last one is true.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Karen—my manager, not the guest—narrow her eyes at me.

Before the guest can start in on another rant about how shitty service has gotten, I add, “However, we do have muffins left over from breakfast. I would be more than happy to get you one and a cup of coffee or tea.”

I actually don’t have to do any of that, but like my mama always said ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ She was from Alabama and had a lot of pithy sayings like that. My heart gives a pang as I think about her before my attention is drawn back to the guest from hell.

The guest huffs out another long-suffering breath. “Two muffins. And I want coffee with creamandsugar. And don’t skimp on either one.” She points her finger at me.

My smile doesn’t even dim. “Of course, ma’am.”Damn, I’ve gotten good at this.

I wish I could say my day got better after that, but unfortunately, the universe had other plans. Just before I was supposed to clock off at three, Karen the manager from hell, sashayed up to the front desk with her bestI’m-in-chargeexpression plastered across her face.

“Sandy called in sick,” she announced, not even bothering with a ‘hello’. “You’ll need to cover her shift.”

It was so hard not to tell her to go to hell, just like I’ve imagined doing so many times, but I need this job.

So, I gritted my teeth and forced the words out. “Sure, no problem.”

God, I can’t wait until I can quit.Just a little longer.

Like a lot of people these days, I have a side gig, and I am so close to making my side gig my full-time job. Very close. My true crime podcast has really grown over the last two years, but until it can pay all the bills, I still need this job. Mostly because I’ve kind of gotten used to luxuries like food and a roof over my head.

Not that it’s a great roof or anything. Just a little two-bedroom house one town over that my sister and I own. But it’s home.

By the time the night auditor shows up just before eleven, I’m dead on my feet and ready to sleep for a week. This day hasbeen rough. The hotel was nearly full thanks to a convention. I lost count of how many overly enthusiastic guests tried to sell me their magical weight-loss tea.

“For just $79.99 a bottle you too can become svelte like me!” One woman had chirped while holding the bottle up. She was not svelte. Neither am I, but I’m also not trying to hawk weight loss tea.

Yeah, more like $79.99 to poop your pants. No thanks.

And the worst part? Tomorrow is day two of the convention, and I’m scheduled to work.

“Bye, Tim. Have a good night.” I call out as I head out the door to my car.

“See you, Mara.” He doesn’t even look up from whatever game he’s playing on his phone.

It’s late and the parking lot is empty of anyone else and nearly silent with just the distant hum of vehicles passing on the interstate audible. There are only two big lights in the lot, and neither of them actually work, just releasing an occasional flicker of light like a half-hearted attempt to do their job.

I’ve told both the owner and Karen the manager that the lights need to be fixed because they’re a safety hazard. A guest—or an employee—could trip and fall, but they don’t seem to care. Or even worse, robbed or abducted. Even murdered. Goosebumps rise up on my arms at that thought.

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