Page 1 of Confused AF
one
~ Otto ~
Cappuccinoinhand—threepumpsof vanilla, extra foam—I found an empty table next to the tinted windows with a view of the plaza outside. Choosing the padded chair that faced the entrance of the cafe, I shook off my nerves and settled down to wait.
For the past six weeks, I had interviewed plenty of applicants for a temporary assistant position. Despite being transparent in my job posting, however, quite a few had thought they could talk their way into a permanent paycheck. Others had only been interested in a free trip to Las Vegas, and they hadn’t even been subtle about it.
I didn’t think I was asking for anything outrageous. For pity’s sake, I hadn’t even required applicants to have experience in the beauty industry. I just needed someone to accompany me to the Spellbound Expo—themagical beauty convention—and keep things from going off the rails for a week.
After striking out time and again with humans, I had finally turned to MNSTR. I had used the app on a few occasions in the past for little things, like emergency deliveries or minor cosmetic repairs at the studio. Never for anything like this, though.
The Magical Network of Specialized Task Resources had a shadeling on standby for every occasion. My grandmother had hired a vampire to intimidate her neighbor during a property dispute over a pear tree. Petty, sure, but also effective. I had a client who had employed a warlock to clear her ex’s negative energy from the apartment…and set his stuff on fire.
Even my best friend, River, had used MNSTR to find an escort to a shadeling-only networking event. The party itself hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but the werewolf had turned out to be his mate, and everything had worked out in the end.
I knew from both personal experience and secondhand accounts that the agent would be skilled, professional, and free of drama. My temporary assistant wouldn’t have an ulterior motive or a random side quest. For one week, his only job was to make my life easier.
But that kind of dedication didn’t come cheap.
While I technically had a connection at MNSTR, I knew Deaton had only agreed to help me because he was mated to my best friend. I still appreciated it, and besides, I’d tried to do things on my own, and I hadn’t exactly been successful.
Once I had given him the green light, Deaton had found a highly recommended agent willing to work at a reduced rate, but he couldn’t do anything about the app fees. Sure, I probably could have asked the agent to work “off the books,” but that didn’t feel like a safe option for either of us.
If things went sideways, I wanted legal protection. I was sure my potential new assistant felt the same way.
I had exchanged a few messages with Vaden Ashmore through the app to set up our meeting, but beyond the basics, I knew little about him.
Demon. Detailed oriented. Specializing in executive assistance.
That about covered it.
He had seemed brisk, though not necessarily impolite, during our exchanges. His responses generally consisted of no more than three words, which I supposed revealedsomethingabout his personality. I just hadn’t decided whatexactly.
Leaning forward, elbows on the table, I wrapped both hands around the white ceramic mug and stared into my cappuccino. I had chosen the location in hopes that it would provide comfort in its familiarity.
It didn’t.
Cast in shades of soft cream and muted browns with a polished but scarred bar, the cafe looked more like a pub than a coffeehouse. Even the name, The Brewery, conjured images of pale ales and whiskey shots rather than latte art and blond espressos.
Yet the place had been a staple in Circle City since the 90s. Sure, there were newer and fancier cafes, but I still preferred the quiet neutrality of The Brewery. I had spent hours in the back corner booth cramming for tests in high school. I’d had my first date here, back when I had still been trying to figure out whether I liked boys or girls.
Eventually, I figured out no rule existed that said I had to choose.
Even as a teenager with raging hormones and more opinions than sense, I had found the place soothing. Calming. Safe.
At the moment, I felt none of those things.
The door opened with a faint chime and a rush of summer heat, drawing my attention to the entrance. I tensed whenVaden Ashmore stepped across the threshold. The photo on his MNSTR profile hadn’t done him justice at all.
With the cafe located in the heart of the city, it wasn’t unusual to see businessmen in suits and ties waiting in line for their morning coffee. None of them stood out quite like Vaden, though. Dressed in a beige suit that molded to his lean frame, he didn’t exactly fade into the background.
While not his most striking feature, at first glance, his ruby red curls were certainly the most noticeable. Vibrant and glossy, the strands wound into a halo of tight corkscrews, hiding all but the tips of a pair of obsidian horns that protruded from just inside his hairline.
“Over here.” I lifted my hand to get his attention as I stood.
He turned toward me, but he didn’t smile or nod. His eyes, a startling shade of bright green, narrowed slightly at the corners, but otherwise, his expression gave away nothing as he approached the table.
“Vaden Ashmore?” I asked, extending my hand in greeting. “I’m Otto Stillwater.”
