Page 27 of Midsummer Phoenixes
Yet, when I heard him get up too, step out of his bedroom, he said, “You are welcome, my heart.”
I turned, stopped, the mess between my legs temporarily forgotten. It didn’t matter for a moment that I was naked or that he was. Our eyes met, and I thought,Soyer, my firebird, I will burn for you forever.
He smiled a muted Mona Lisa smile as if he’d heard that thought, as if in response to it.
And I was sure he had, phoenix mind reader that he was.
Three Months
AMORY
June. The Moonlight Diner.
IglancedouttheMoonlight’s window front. Pinks and purples flooded the streets with sunset, darkness simmering up from the asphalt. Soon, the windows would be mostly reflective apart from the city lights and the Pride partiers who were decked out brightly and out and about this Friday, hopping from one concert and open mic to another.
Our grand reopening had happened four weeks ago, and while I still admired the shiny newness of the place every day, my routine had come back to me pretty quickly. Except…
“Watchoo doing?” Rae asked. They had gone for the pants and shirt uniform today but had kept their sparkling eyeshadow. They were new, Soyer’s hire, and they and I didn’t quite yet have that easy kind of routine and understanding that came from working with the other person for a long time. I was sure we were getting there though.
I put my phone away and pointed. “Salt shakers.”
About half of them were lined up on the counter in front of me, and I’d found the little funnel I preferred using, which was still the same as before the remodel. I was making use of a small lag in incoming patrons, refilling the shakers now.
Rae pointed at my face. “Don’t blink those pretty blue eyes at me. You were on your phone. You were—” They paused for drama. “Slacking.”
I started with the salt. “I was just glancing at my phone for a second.” To see if Soyer had texted.
They sniffled. “You are making me take care of all these patrons by myself.” With a move that was as elegant as it was quick, they put their foot up on the counter. The high heel rainbow plateaus shimmered at me. “And in these heels!”
“Jeez, Rae, get your shoes off the counter. We serve food here.”
Ben, who followed me around these days, most likely on Soyer’s orders, huffed out a half laugh, which made me look at the corner of the counter he had claimed. He usually just sat there, quiet as a very big mouse, sipping whatever I gave him to sip, iced tea today.
“The werewolf gets me,” Rae said, pulling their foot off the counter.
“Ssh!”
They rolled their eyes and pointed. “Table one. Roland. Not scared of werewolves. Table seven. The Marys. Not scared of werewolves. Table eleven. Liam and Dave, who know werewolves—dare I say—in the biblical sense, and table fourteen.”
Table fourteen was a buff guy with glitter makeup on his face and a loosely fitting tracksuit, the kind that made me wonder what he was wearing underneath it.
“What about table fourteen?” I asked, whispering.
“I think he changed his stage name.” Rae scratched their head.
“Huh?”
“Used to be Cinnamon, right? Or wait, Buttercup?” Ben stirred his iced tea with the metal straw, making the ice cubes clink.
Out of the corners of my eyes, I saw movement. Moments later, Table Fourteen was leaning against the counter and glaring first at Ben, then focusing his glare on Rae.
“It’s Grenadine, and you fucking know it. So what? We doing it or what? You said you’d talk to—” his voice dropped to a whisper, “the Black Shuck’s human.” Which was me. He didn’t meet my eyes once.
Rae pointed at me again. “You’re interrupting. I’m doing that. Look. He’s talking, and I’m talking to him.”
“Kid, everything okay out there?” Dwayne said, looking out to us from the other side of the passthrough.
“All good,” I said, because while I knew he’d been given some information, I had no idea how much exactly, and I didn’t want him drawn into a werewolf conversation. I couldn’t believe I’d been drawn into a werewolf conversation.
