annette marie three mages and a margarita

He was the first customer to introduce himself, which might have seemed like good manners except his tone suggested I should recognize his name and commence fawning. The redhead offered his hand in greeting, giving me a smooth smile.

The third guy was half turned away, waving at someone. Surprised by my tone, the redhead glanced at his pal-a dark-haired looker with an exotic cast to his features. “What do you want?” The rudely barked demand slipped out before I could stop it. I thought he might be my first friendly customer when his buddy added, “Fresh blood.” Like me, he was a full-blown ginger, though his tousled locks were more into rusty-orange shades. “Heard there’s a new girl,” the centermost guy said in a pleasantly deep voice, his blue eyes flashing with humor. Under different circumstances, I would have flirted hardcore and written my number on their receipt, but instead I had to contain my grimace as I waited for the question. The three guys were a few years older than me, tall, fit, and handsome. I dumped the ice into the well and faced them. Clara rushed past me into the kitchen to give Ramsey the next wave of orders. Bucket filled, I shoved through the saloon doors. I stomped to the ice machine and filled my bucket, barely acknowledging Ramsey slaving over the grill, the deep fryer sizzling. Pissing people off was one of my God-given talents, but even I had never met such a universally hostile group of people in my life. My nerves were long gone, replaced by anger. As the clock hit six and half the tables were full, I ducked into the back to get more ice, panting for air, strands of hair sticking to my face. The stupid question kept coming, and I quit smiling. For every smile I offered, I got stony stares and scowls in response. I scrambled to make their drinks, fumbling liquor bottles and forgetting garnishes. A full spectrum of stereotypes was gathering in the pub, and none belonged in the same room together.īefore I got completely overwhelmed, Clara burst out of the kitchen and people shifted over to order food from her. The patrons I’d already served made perfect sense to me-young-ish, single-ish bar-going types-but now I was stumped.

Annette marie three mages and a margarita