Unable to remain a passive witness, I lean across the counter. Grab his wrist. Forcibly remove his hand from the keys and sweep them into my apron pocket. “Thankseverso much for stopping by,Brandt. As you can see, Violet and I are quite thoroughly engaged in another matter. So, if you’re not here to make a purchase, it’s time to make like a tea andleaf.”
Dim bulb just gapes—really, we’re talking twenty watts between the ears, at max—but Violet’s snickering behind me, the precious snort filling me with unchecked glee.
Rubbing his wrist, Brandt nods at the dregs of her failed banishing brew, still sitting on the counter between us. “What’sthat?”
“Posterior essence of Camelus bactrianus,” I declare with a smile, taking great pleasure in unleashing another of Violet’s snorts, try as she might to hide it.
“Is that… some sort of spice?” Twenty Watt wants to know.
“Experiment gone bad,” Violet says.
“And this one?” He turns his attention to my abandoned creation, a pile of tea and herbs no one in his right mind would even look at, let alone ask about.
But again, dimness reigns supreme.
“Also bad.” Violet tightens her apron strings and sighs. “So, if there’s nothing else I can do for you, Brandt—”
“Actually, that one is quite good.” Offering a mile-wide customer-service grin, I dump the mixture into a fresh teapot. “Crafted it myself. It’s got a bit of a kick, granted, but if you’re not sensitive to spice, you might enjoy it.”
“He hates spice,” Violet informs me. “All kinds of spice.”
This shouldn’t please me as much as it does, but I’m a petty, petty man and hey, I take my kicks where I can get them.
“Ilovespice,” he snaps. “You don’t know everything about me, Violet. Not anymore.”
Ohhh.. Nowthisis getting interesting…
“Of course you like spice, Brandt.” I offer a conspiratorial wink, like,just one of the guys, we’re all friends here, you know how the womenfolk get thesecrazyideas in their heads.“But as I mentioned, this particular blendisfairly intense. Brand new, hot off the presses. Only for the mostdiscerningof customers.”
“Yeah? What’s in it?”
“Trade secret, but it’s called The Devil Made Me Brew It.”
“Is that… like… a pun?”
“Oh, it’s quite literal. I assure you.” I head to the kitchen to fetch the kettle, Violet right on my heels.
“Seriously?” she hisses. “What are you doing? I’m trying to get him out of here!”
“Just having a bit of fun, mushroom,” I whisper. “Experimentation is good for the soul.”
“Do you even have a soul?”
“No, but wedohave amost discerningcustomer, one who’s clearly seen you naked at some point in the not-so-distant past which FYI I willverymuch be inquiring about later, and I’m in the mood to be a complete and utter prick. So! Off we go.”
I leave her gaping behind me and head out to brew his tea. The steam curls eagerly from the pot, the scent nearly as pungent as Violet’s earlier brew but ever-so-slightly less offensive.
“So, you new in town?” Twenty Watt asks, conversational mastermind that he is. “I wasn’t aware Violet had the budget for an employee.”
“I’m a consultant, actually.” I snap the takeaway lid onto his cup. “Best of the best, very exclusive, years-long waiting list. Anyway, here you are, all fired up and ready to go.”
I slide the cup his way. He gives it an indelicate whiff, then recoils, barely smothering a cough.
“Too spicy for you, then?” I laugh. “No worries. Not every man is man enough to handle the Devil’s Brew.”
“Just getting used to it, is all.” He takes a full sip. Coughs and sputters emerge. Eyes water. Face turns the color of a ripe tomato. Very entertaining, the whole hot mess of him.
“It’s… it’s good,” he wheezes, fumbling for his phone and swiping it over the payment screen. He does not, I notice, leave a tip. “Real good. Anyway, I have an important meeting with important people, so…”
