Page 3 of Dragon in Boots

“Meow?”

Jac’s gaze moved to her feet, finding a tiny gray-and-white striped kitten.

“Well, hello there. Where did you come from?” Jac picked up the furball, noticing it had a black collar with a tag. Its name was Heebie.

Wait. Hold on.She’d just said the place gave her the heebie-jeebies and…

“I can’t with this job. I seriously can’t.” The super-pink ambience was creepy enough, but the employees were weird, and the place smelled funny, too.Like toasted marshmallows and fish.

Suddenly, the image of poor Wanda in her body cast flashed in Jac’s mind. That poor orangutang was going to need months of expensive physical therapy. Also, the payment on the property was two months behind because Jac had spent her reserves on vet bills and a new prosthetic leg for Larry. The old one had worn out.

If Jac didn’t pull in big tips over the next few weeks, the bank would foreclose, and her animals would be taken by the county to be put down. She was the last stop for creatures that were too old or sick to be in a zoo, and no other sanctuary would take them because of the care required.

Just have to make ends meet for three more months.Then she’d hold her annual fundraiser, and the sanctuary would be back in the black. At least until the next critter emergency.

“Meow.” The kitten snuggled against Jac’s chest and purred.

“Aren’t you sweet.” She stroked its soft little ears. “Let’s go find Mink. Maybe she knows who you belong to.”

The kitten began to wiggle and fight. “Reywrr!” It jumped from her arms and ran for the hallway.

I guess he doesn’t like Mink either.Jac followed it out, but the animal was nowhere to be found. Hopefully, the kitten would find its way to its owner.

CHAPTER TWO

Jac located the storage room in the basement next to the small breakroom just like Mink had said. The crappy part was that she’d had to make six trips up the stairs, carrying heavy cases of alcohol. Whoever bartended last had left in a hurry, not bothering to restock empties, refill the beer and wine fridges, or throw out the old perishable garnishes, like lime wedges and pineapple slices. Luckily, there was plenty of ice in the machine under the bar to quickly chill the wine and beer, and the store across the street had what she needed.

With everything set up and properly cleaned, Jac looked at her watch. She had two minutes to spare until the doors opened for the eight o’clock show.

She quickly downed a protein shake from her purse and began setting out piles of cocktail napkins for the servers. She’d met all six women, who seemed just as confused about the job “training” situation as she was. Everyone would be winging it tonight, including how to use the payment system. There was no sign of Peepers either.

Just then, Mink strolled back in.

“Hey, Mink,” Jac asked. “I can’t find any straws, and the servers need—”

“The customers here don’t use straws.” Mink chuckled.

“Is it an ecological thing?” That was totally fine, but they should at least have alternatives like those terrible squishy paper straws. Better than nothing.

“Nope. And don’t forget to keep your shirt on.” Mink walked away.

This place is awful.

Soon, the bachelorette parties and birthday girls with sashes and tiaras began flowing in. Most of the women wanted white wine or sex-themed drinks like a dirty banana or blow job.

With the place filling quickly, Jac worked double time to keep the drinks flowing. She hadn’t even noticed when the first act came on—some guy named Phillipe dressed as a chef, who then proceeded to remove everything except his chef’s hat. The one stuck to his groin.

The women hollered and catcalled with enthusiasm, most of them laughing and having a good time in their little groups.

Honestly, Jac didn’t understand why Mrs. Peepers and Mink had made such a big deal. The women weren’t behaving wildly or belligerently; they were just having fun.

By the third act, the orders began slowing down, which made sense. Most people tended to take it easy after two or three drinks.

“Hey, um…Trish?” Jac said to one of the servers, a blonde in her twenties. “I need to make a quick run to the bathroom. Can you watch the bar for two seconds?”

“Sure. Do you mind if I pour my wine order?” Trish asked.

“No problem.”

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