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I’m about to say no, but Sophia looks so genuinely pleased to help me that I do what I really want to do and say yes. “I’m Shelly.” I hold my hand, realize I’m still holding her hankie and snatch it back, blushing.
Sophia just takes the hankie, folds it into a pocket somewhere in her voluminous flowery skirt and jumps up from the bench. “Nice to meet you, Shelly. And don’t worry. I have a great feeling about your day. It might not have started well, but I’m almost positive it’s going to wind up being the best day of your life.”
I snort, because I can’t help myself, but her smile is infectious, and I follow her inside the building, glancing at the sign on my way in. Monstrous Deals.
Huh.
I wonder what that’s about?
Sophia leads me into a cozy little lounge and starts making tea. Then she lets out a little tsk and turns. “Sorry, tea might have to wait. That was my bartender. It looks like we’re short staffed tonight. I’m going to have to—” She stops, tapping her finger against her lip. “Unless... You said you lost your job, right? I don’t suppose you’d like to help out behind the bar tonight? I could pay you.”
“Um...” I think of all that glassware. I’m not exactly the best choice, but she looks so hopeful. “I mean, I’ll give it a go.”
She beams me a bright smile and hustles me down the stairs into a classy-looking room with soft music playing and dim lighting. Behind the bar is a tall blond man with his long wavy hair tied back in a topknot and a shirt that reads ‘werewolves do it doggy style’.
“Maurice,” Sophia calls, “This is Shelly. She’s going to help us out tonight.”
***
Shelly
Afew hours later I'mperched on a bar stool while Maurice leans over the bar to top up my drink. Again.
I wave him away. “I’m s’posed to be helping you out, not drinking the bar dry.”
He grunts. “Listen, you are helping way more by staying put here and not touching any more of my glasses, you hear?”
I nod, feeling more than a little guilty. But my head is swimming pleasantly and this is a hell of a lot better than going home to face Jen and tell her I can’t pay her rent. Besides, Maurice makes the best margaritas. “I promise I’ll do all the washing up, OK? And I’ll pay for the ones I broke.”
Maurice just laughs at me. “No. You won’t. But if you’re very nice to me, I’ll let you mop the floors after closing.”
He goes to serve another customer and I sit for a while, swirling the remaining liquid in my cocktail glass and thinking. I really need a better solution for a new job. I just don’t know what else I can do. This is the third job I’ve lost this year.
I’m jolted out of my blackening thoughts when a handsome businessman with a snappy blue suit sits down next to me with a long sigh that tells a whole damn story about his day.
I give him a warm smile. “Sounds like you had a worse day than me! That’s saying something. Wanna talk about it?”
