“Olivy.” I return to my paper and laugh, not out of derision this time, but genuine amusement. “What other entanglements could therepossiblybe?”
Chapter Fourteen
DEVLIN
If ever I believed my celebrity was a given, that the presence of my company was an experience for which people would offer up a firstborn child, the good folks of Pumpkinville have thoroughly disabused me of that notion.
Talk about a swift kick to the nether regions.
By the third day of my Kettle and Cauldron mascot-ship, the bloom has fallen off the rose. I’m no longer the sexy spectacle for the locals I once was—in fact, they’re all treating me as if I’m one of them, nothing to see here, moving right along, which is appalling on at least six different levels—and the tourists have flocked back to Mean Beans, leaving the café a veritable ghost town.
What’s worse, since I haven’t been posting on my own channels, the views and engagement metrics are down across the board, and Finn and Azazel are threatening to obliterate each other over party planning creative differences. If I have to field one more inquiry about wrangling live lawn flamingos…
“Fucking disaster,” I mutter, scrolling through the social media footage from last night’s event. My home is a mess (lawn flamingos left un-wrangled will do that), the guests leave much to be desired, and although I adore my best mate…Ugh. When it comes to playing the playboy host-with-the-most, there’s just no besting the original.
“I wouldn’t call it a disaster, exactly.” Violet flops onto the café couch next to me, her curls bouncing. “More like an apocalyptic wasteland.”
“I was speaking of something else, mushroom. The Kettle and Cauldron is neither disaster nor wasteland. Just a bit slow.”
“It was fun while it lasted, huh?” In the absence of human witnesses, she flicks her fingers toward the fireplace, calling the smoldering flames back to life. “I wish Mean Beans would disappear. I’ll never understand why places like that are so popular.”
“People are drawn to the comforts of sameness and predictability. At Mean Beans, they know what to expect, whether they’re halfway across the world or right in their own backyards.”
“That’s what’s so crazy to me. Why travel anywhere if you’re just going to do the same things you do at home? If I took a trip somewhere—even just one town over—I’d want to try all new foods, all new places, talk to new people.”
“Not everyone is as adventurous as you.”
“I’m the opposite of adventurous, which is why Idon’ttake many trips.” She laughs. “Not since I was a kid, anyway. Guess I like predictability in my old age too.”
“Says the woman who summoned the Devil.”
“Oh my goddess! Stop!” She gives me a playful smack on the thigh. “I told you! You were supposed to be a—”
“Pivot table, yes, I recall.”
“Not to brag, but I’m actually known as the spreadsheet queen among my sisters. When I’m not drinking, obviously. Just wait until I show you my inventory and budget sheets—prepare to be impressed.”
“I’m already impressed.” I wink and drain my third cup of tea of the day, each one even better than the last, improving my mood in ways that alcohol, orgies, and social media stardom never quite can. “Mean Beans is just a bump in the road. This tea is too divine to fail—mark my words.”
“I keep trying to tell myself that, too. But honestly?” Her face falls, the teasing sparkle dimming from her eyes. Even her curls seem to droop. “It’s not just the coffee chain, Devlin. I’ve been struggling to stay open for a long time now. Even if I tripled the business overnight and kept it steady for months, it wouldn’t be enough. For whatever reason, I don’t seem to have what the customers ultimately want. I don’t know… maybe my teas aren’t that special after all.”
“Do you really believe that? Wait, don’t answer.” I rise from the couch and extend a hand. “Time for an experiment.”
Her gaze narrows, but she takes my hand and allows me to lead her behind the counter.
“A request, if you please.” I turn toward the impressive wall of teas and spices behind us. “May I—just this once for demonstrative purposes only—fondle your canisters?”
“What? Why?”
That doesn’t sound like ano, exactly, so onward we march.
“I’d like to give this tea blending thing a whirl. Special brew, never before attempted in this realm or the next, it’ll be all the rage.” I grab the black tea and scan the shelves for some additional inspiration, ignoring her tut-tuts of protest. “Violet, be a dear and put the kettle on, will you?”
“Excuse me,sir. I don’t know how they did it inyourtime, way back before dinosaurs roamed the earth, but these days the craft of tea blending is a bit more involved than pouring a pot of water over some leaves.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, as my advanced,advancedage might be ushering in a bit of hearing and/or memory loss, but I could’ve sworn youjustsaid your teas are, and I quote, ‘not that special after all.’ If that’s true, then it stands to reason any know-nothing twat off the street ought to be able to cobble together a brew, and here I am, far from a know-nothing, farther still from a twat. Now stand aside and let me work.”
She leans back against the counter, arms folded across her chest. “Point made.”
