Four Of A Kind

Chapter 271: [4.89] The Lovers

"I’ve made approximately ten thousand drinks in my life. I better look like I belong."

"Yeah, but I mean the whole package. The costume, the machine, the cape. You look like the protagonist of a very expensive video game." Felix leaned on the counter. "The kind of game where four gorgeous women are obsessed with you and you have to choose between saving the world and going on dates."

"That’s weirdly specific."

"I play a lot of video games." Felix straightened up. "Also, heads up. Rebecca Harrington is here. She’s working the haunted house for 3-C, and she asked me if you’re single."

My stomach did something complicated. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her you’re in a complicated situation, which is the understatement of the century." Felix clapped my shoulder. "Good luck today, man. You’re gonna need it."

He disappeared back toward the entrance, his cape catching on a chair leg and nearly pulling the entire table over. Two girls from the decorating committee rushed to fix the damage while Felix apologised profusely, his Dracula lisp making every word sound like a nature documentary about snakes.

The next three hours evaporated into setup, rehearsal, and last-minute crisis management. Patterson arrived at 8:15 in his full Dracula regalia, which was somehow even more impressive in daylight. His cape had actual leather trim, his fangs were custom-fitted by a dentist, and his hair was slicked back with what appeared to be an entire bottle of industrial-strength gel. He surveyed the cafe with the expression of a general reviewing his troops before battle.

"This is acceptable," he said, which from Patterson was the equivalent of a standing ovation.

Harlow ran through the service flow one final time, directing each maid to their assigned tables. She had made costume adjustments to everyone based on feedback from the dress rehearsal, and I noticed that every girl working the cafe now had matching bat-wing headbands with varying colour accents to denote their station. Purple for table service. Red for the bar area where I operated. Pink for the dessert station that Iris and Sarah would manage.

Cassidy refused to wear her headband until Harlow produced a modified version in black that looked less cute and more like something a motorcycle gang member might wear to a costume party. Cassidy examined it, grunted in what might have been approval, and put it on without further comment.

Vivienne stationed herself at the entrance as the hostess and quality control point, armed with a seating chart and the kind of smile that made people feel simultaneously welcomed and terrified. Sabrina took a corner table near the window and set up what she called the fortune-telling booth, which consisted of a velvet tablecloth, a crystal ball she had borrowed from the drama department, and a stack of tarot cards that she claimed belonged to their grandmother.

"You can actually read tarot cards?" I asked during a lull. freewebnσvel.cøm

"No." Sabrina shuffled the deck with unsettling dexterity, her fingers moving through the cards like water. "But I can read people. The cards are simply a prop. They give structure to what I already see."

"That’s borderline fraud." freewēbnoveℓ.com

"It’s entertainment." She drew a card from the middle of the deck without looking at it, then held it up between us. "The Lovers. How appropriate."

The card depicted two figures standing beneath an angel, and I refused to acknowledge the heat creeping up the back of my neck because Sabrina had pulled it while staring directly into my eyes with that unreadable expression that somehow managed to convey both complete disinterest and total awareness of the effect she was having.

"Put that away."

She placed it face-up on the velvet tablecloth instead, adjusting the angle so the illustrated figures seemed to face me specifically. "I think I’ll leave it out. For atmosphere."

At 10:45, Patterson gathered everyone near the coffin archway for a final briefing. He stood on a chair, his vampire cape pooling dramatically on the floor around him, and delivered what could only be described as a battle speech that would have been genuinely inspiring if it were about anything other than a high school festival booth competition.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. Creatures of the night." He paused for dramatic effect, sweeping his gaze across the assembled group. "Today we fight for glory."

"It’s a cafe, Mr. Patterson," someone in the back said. I think it was one of the sophomore volunteers.

"It is NOT just a cafe!" His volume increased by at least fifteen decibels. "It is a statement! A declaration! For seven consecutive years, 3-C has claimed the Fall Festival trophy with their pathetic haunted house! Seven years of cheap jump scares and strobe lights and the same rubber spider they’ve been using since 2017!" His voice rose higher, taking on an almost manic quality. "This year, we offer something better. Something refined. We offer atmosphere. We offer craftsmanship. We offer hand-pulled espresso served by a professional bartender wearing a cape!"

He pointed directly at me. I gave a small wave, feeling the weight of thirty-five pairs of eyes turning in my direction.

"We offer fortune-telling by a girl who will see into the very depths of your soul!"

Sabrina held up The Lovers card again, this time directing it toward Patterson. He didn’t seem to notice the irony.

"We offer desserts decorated by genuine artists with attention to detail!"

Iris and Sarah held up a tray of sugar cookies shaped like tombstones, complete with icing names and dates. I recognized several teacher names among them, which seemed mildly concerning.

"And most importantly, we offer the most aggressive, dedicated, uncompromising customer service this school has ever witnessed!"

Cassidy cracked her knuckles slowly, the sound carrying across the now-silent room.

"Now get to your stations. Doors open in fifteen minutes." Patterson stepped down from the chair, his cape swishing behind him. "And if I see a single member of 3-C’s haunted house attempting to steal our customers or sabotage our operation, I want them dealt with swiftly and decisively." He looked directly at Cassidy. "Non-violently."

"No promises," Cassidy said with a smile that suggested she had already planned several forms of violence.