Strings of Fate

Strings of Fate

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I wake up early and after a quick shower, try to decide what to wear to work today. I have my

usual selection of work outfits. (Benefits of being the boss, no uniform!) but I sort of want to put in a little extra effort today. I get dressed in a cute pair of black jeans and a maroon top that is cut in a really flattering way. It’s not until I’m pulling a brush through my hair that I consider WHY I feel like dressing up today. It’s not… for Harry… is it? I frown and reassess my clothing selection. Does it matter if it is for him or not? If I turn up to work dressed up the day after I’ve agreed to go out with him he’s going to believe I did it for him, regardless of if it’s true or not. I’m not even sure if it IS true or not. Then again, if I’m trying to sell this couple thing to Simon and my family, shouldn’t it look like I’m making an effort? I smile to myself, satisfied with the argument. I’m not dressing for a guy, because I wouldn’t do something like that. I’m dressing for the sake of selling this story in order to regain my freedom from my overbearing family and stalkerish wannabe husband. With my mind made

up, I take the time to carefully draw on some eyeliner and add mascara which makes my

green eyes really stand out. I then add a dark red lipstick that very nearly matches the top I’m wearing. I stick to my most comfortable boots though. No heels while working the bar. It would just be asking for painful feet and accidents that would be perfectly avoidable if I wasn’t practically on stilts. Cora sometimes chooses to wear heels at work but that’s her prerogative. She insists her tips are better when she wears them. But she also chooses to wear them mostly on nights when we’re expecting big crowds, so it might be a case of correlation, not causation. Still, she is free to do as she likes as long as the shoes are closed toe (for safety

reasons).

occur to me

I am more than halfway to work when it occurs to me to actually check the time. Oh…. I’ve

left for work more than two hours earlier than I needed to. Why did it not

actually see what time it was when I finished getting ready for my day? I sort of stop on the street and stand around awkwardly, contemplating if I should turn around and go home or just go to work and be super early. I could work on my potions or something. But I dressed NICELY today. What if I spill something or make a mess? That would be incredibly disappointing. I continue walking towards work but at a much slower pace. It’s not until I reach what I would consider to be a ‘shopping district‘ that I actually find something to do with my extra time. I know I’m not as wealthy as I used to be, I put all my savings into buying my half of The Witches Booze. But I can still afford to treat myself occasionally, right? I take my time, wandering between stores and looking at clothes and cute shoes. I’m not against impractical shoes in general. Just while I’m working, Eventually I settle on a cute, mint green sundress. It’s nothing extra special, but it’s on sale and in my size and I think the

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colour will suit me. I don’t really feel like trying things on right now, mostly because I have a dark lipstick on which would totally stain anything I pulled over my head. Not worth the risk. I buy the dress then head into work, every bit as cheerful as I was when I left home. I’m still running early, but more like twenty minutes early which means I’ll have just enough time to make myself a coffee. We have a pretty decent coffee machine for a bar but you should never underestimate how useful it is to be able to give some drunk idiot a coffee to help them sober up. If I’m feeling really generous I might even mix in a sober up potion, but I save those for special occasions. Generally if someone is out drinking it’s

because they don’t WANT to be sober and I’m not going to ruin it for them. I save it for the ones who have just taken it a little too far or who I don’t think will be safe getting home as they are.

Al arrives to get ready for the evening shift. He usually comes by in the morning and does prep work then leaves and comes back. I pay him well for his weird split shifts but he insists he doesn’t really.mind because it gives him a bit of freedom with his day. He has to be here in the evenings to cook, but he can prep stuff whenever he wants. The kitchen closes at nine thirty and I run the bar til late, so I’m rarely around while he’s getting ready. I wave to him and hold up my empty coffee mug as an offering. He nods and I get to work making us both strong coffees to get us through the night. Cora is on tonight too. She works every weekend

with me then she works a few weekdays when it’s quieter so that I can have time off, or at the

very least to give me time to work on the books. I really do need to hire someone else, I’m

lucky that Cora is eager to work a lot of hours right now because most people would

complain.

Harry unsurprisingly is the first person to arrive, walking in confidently less than a minute after the bar opens.

“Hi Cam!” He greets me enthusiastically.

“Hey.” I greet him awkwardly. I make him a drink, it tastes nasty but he seems more bothered when I give him something decent at this point, so terrible drinks it is. It’s mostly just a habit at this point. I guess it is fun making drinks I don’t get to make often, although why people created such vile drinks in the first place, I will never know. As I drop off his drink I notice my phone is vibrating in my pocket. I ignore it at first but it just keeps going on and on. A glance around tells me that Harry is the

only customer here since it’s so early so I pull out my phone. Ah damn it, I have about five messages. Not wanting to deal with it, I just drop my phone on the bar, face down. I normally wouldn’t leave it unattended but Harry can watch it

for me. He raises an eyebrow.

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“You’re trusting me with your phone?” He asks, surprise in his tone. I shrug.

“I don’t care anymore. I just don’t want to deal with it.” I drop my head to the bar and take a few deep breaths.

“May I?” Harry asks; gesturing at the phone. I shrug. He picks it up and types in my passcode. I have no idea how he even knows it. When I stare at him he just keeps tapping at my phone.

“I pay attention, to you at least.” Is all he answers. He frowns at my phone and I sigh.

“What is it now?” I ask. This sucks, I was having a nice day and now it’s being ruined.

“I like this picture of us, you look cute.” He remarks. Huh? I don’t HAVE any photos of us. This can’t be good…