Day Shift

She sighed heavily. “We just don’t seem to have anything in common.” She propped herself on her elbows and swabbed her face with a tissue. “We always talk about the Cartoon Saloon and the crazy people who come in there. He asks me how things are with the shop, and I say okay. Last night, he asked me who actually comes to my shop.”

“And you told him?”

“I told him I sold alternative-lifestyle things for women, mostly, and led classes in how to find your inner strength, and that I was a witch and sold some stuff pertaining to witchcraft. So my clientele is mostly women. And I’m a practitioner as well.”

“And he said?”

“And I quote, ‘Oooooh, spooky lady!’ He didn’t really seem to know how to react aside from that. He asked me if I had any tattoos.”

“You told him you were a witch, and that’s all he could think of to say?” Manfred smiled, just a little, and in a second he and Fiji were laughing out loud.

“I know,” she said. “I know! But at the moment, it wasn’t funny at all, it felt like the kiss of death!”

“How’d it go after that?” Manfred was trying not to laugh any more. He was a bit surprised the bouncer hadn’t had a chance to find out about Fiji’s tattoos firsthand.

“Pretty dire. I didn’t know how to talk about the price beef was fetching and calf roping or bull riding — he loves the rodeo — and he didn’t know what to make of Midnight. He told me about his last shift with the ambulance, when a guy had a heart attack and then he’d had to pull a baby out of a wreck. Finally we got down to what television shows we watched, and I kind of feel like it’s all over if that’s the main topic you can come up with. Not that you can’t find out a lot about people from that,” she added, in case that was Manfred’s fallback position when he was on a date.

“I’ve talked about television, I admit it freely,” he said, trying to keep a straight face, but they started laughing again.

“It was awful,” Fiji said. “Assuming he ever calls again, I think I’ll give it a pass. That’s what I get for going out with someone who had nothing but hotness going for him.”

“Hey, it could have turned out good.”

“Yeah, but… it didn’t. I lost a few hours of time. And a little of my self-respect. And I never discovered if the hotness was all attitude.”

“I ran into Bobo the other evening, and he knew you were going out with Travis McNamara.”

“Yes, I told him,” she said, in a voice so even you could have put a level on it. She shrugged. “He seemed pleased.” She was trying as hard as she could to look neutral about that, but in fact the feelings chased across her face. Defiant, angry, sad.

“He was pretty worried about it. He thought Travis was too rough for you.”

Looking much more cheerful, she sat up straight, took a deep breath, and said, “Thanks for coming over and listening to my crap. I’ll bet there was something you wanted to talk about?”

“That confidence you gave me. It was great.”

Fiji brightened even more. “I’m so glad! It was something new I was trying out. How long before it wore off?”

“That’s the only problem. I’m still getting, like, flashbacks,” he said, trying not to sound uneasy. “I can’t tell if some plan I have is actually a good idea, or if I just think so because I’m under the spell. Kind of like Olivia thinking she’s had a good idea if she has it in the chapel.”

Fiji looked thoughtful. “Okay… what you’re saying is it’s working too well? That you feel you might have lost your judgment?”

He nodded vigorously. “Exactly.”

“So I need to temper it somehow.” Fiji pulled out the old notebook she kept in a drawer under the counter and got a pen from the caddy on her desk. “And you’re having flashbacks. So I need to cut down on the…” Her voice trailed off as she wrote a few more words. “Thanks, Manfred. I appreciate the feedback.”

“Have you met the new guy yet?”

“What new guy?”

“He may tell you his name is Rick, but he also says it’s Barry. Horowitz. He came in the middle of the night two nights ago. He’s the grandson of one of the residents.”

“And he’s staying?” She was still waiting for the pertinence of the new guy to manifest itself.

“For a while, at least,” Manfred said. “He’s unusual, Fiji. Even for here.”

Diederik came in, looking hopeful. Fiji immediately put a plate up on the counter, piled with homemade biscuits covered with plastic wrap. “Oh, thank you,” the boy said. He was even more appreciative when Fiji put a knife, a dish of butter, and some jam beside the biscuits.

They were both giving him a careful once-over. “I don’t think you grew as much,” Manfred said. “It’s slowing down.”

“I did get some bigger clothes, just in case, but I believe you’re right,” Fiji said, pushing the plate closer to Diederik, who unwrapped the biscuits with speed. He remembered to offer them to Manfred, but when Manfred shook his head, the boy looked relieved and dug in. Fiji put a glass of juice beside the plate, and Diederik drained it at a gulp.

“What does the Rev feed you?” Manfred asked.