Page 1 of Bewitched & Bewildered
Chapter 1
Juniper
“I’m sorry.”I smile through my teeth. “Our cooks are busy at work making sure your burger is as fresh as can be. It will take a little longer, but I’ll get it right out to you.”
The usual customer service answer should be enough to appease them, but some patrons aren’t as easy. Most would be happy to have two cold beers in front of them. Not these two.
“We wanted the food to come outwiththe drinks.” The woman crosses her arms.
“You should have requested that.” It’s getting harder to hold my smile. “But even if you did, that won’t make your burgers ready any faster. Other people have been waiting longer than you.”
“That doesn’t make you sound any better.” The man scoffs.
“I’m not the one cooking!” This is why I’m terrible at this job.
When I tell people I hate what I do, I mean it. There’s never been a job I liked, and that is saying something. I’vebeen everything under the sun: office worker, server, barista, bookshop employee. If you name it, I’ve tried it.
My most recent place of employment is at a bar thirty minutes outside my small town. The hope is to learn about mixing drinks, which fits better with my specialty as a witch. I’m a potion maker. Making cocktails will be easy in comparison.
Somehow, I’m always stuck on serving duty instead.
The commute isn’t so bad. Working in a larger city comes with perks—like bigger tips. It doesn’t come with better people. Case in point: the couple at my table. According to their IDs, they’re in their mid-twenties, but some people never grow up. These two are perfect examples of that.
I’m no better, considering I’m stooping to their level.
The woman twists in her seat, and the man fixes me with a flat expression.
“How much longer is this going to take?” he asks.
It’s Friday night. Not only is this our busiest night of the week, but it’s the busiest night foranybar. That feels like common sense, but judging by their rude stares, it must not be.
The Ace is a typical sports bar. There’s some game or another blaring on the television, and jerseys for teams I don’t know hang on the walls. Maine isn’t well-known for excelling in sports, so we borrow from New York and Massachusetts.
The rivaling teams can bring some tension, but I have no stake in the arguments. I’m just here for a paycheck.
I’m the only goth in the sports bar, and, of course, I stick out like a sore thumb. What I need is a new job. Between customers like this and the matching jersey I’m forced to wear, this job is suffocating me.
Bringing orders, counting my tips, and even making small talk—those things are all more than doable. I would even go as far as to say Ilikemost of our regulars.
Other parts of the gig don’t come naturally to me. Talking to people like this and dealing with drunk patrons…
That makes the job a living hell.
“I don’t know why you’re being so rude,” she says. “We’re not doing anything wrong!”
I inhale slowly. “You’re right, and I don’t mean to be rude. I’m trying to explain the delay. You’re welcome.”
The man slams his hands on the table, loud enough to be heard around the bustling bar. “So, you admit there’s a delay?”
I cringe.
“Jerry!” The woman grimaces at her boyfriend.
“What?” he says. “I just want my burger.”
“It will be ready in ten minutes.” I hope. “I’ll get it out to you as soon as possible.”
“No way,” he says. “It doesn’t take ten minutes to make a burger.”
