Free Web NovelChapter 272: [4.90] The Graveyard Shift
The doors opened at eleven o’clock sharp, and within forty seconds I understood why Patterson had been losing sleep over this festival for the past month.
The line stretched from the coffin archway past the gymnasium doors and into the hallway, curving around the corner toward the science wing. Students, parents, younger siblings, and what appeared to be several alumni who had no business being at a high school event on a Saturday morning all pressed forward in a mass of Halloween costumes and phone cameras.
The noise hit the cafe like a wave, and the fog machines that Felix had positioned near the entrance chose that exact moment to erupt in unison, blanketing the first ten feet of floor space in thick white vapor that made everyone look like they were wading through clouds.
"Oh, that’s good," Felix said from somewhere inside the fog bank. "That’s really good."
Vivienne greeted the first customers with the composure of someone who had been hosting fashion industry elites since she was twelve years old, which she literally had been.
She directed traffic with small gestures and that particular smile she reserved for situations where she needed people to feel simultaneously welcomed and aware that she could destroy them.
Two girls from the junior class approached the entrance, took one look at Vivienne in her corset and thigh-highs and burgundy silk, and immediately asked for a photo instead of a table.
"Seating first, photos after." Vivienne checked something on her phone. "Table seven is available. Your maid will be with you shortly." ƒrēewebnovel.com
Behind the espresso machine, I fell into the rhythm that had carried me through two years at the Velvet Room.
Muscle memory is a beautiful thing when your brain is occupied with approximately forty-seven other concerns, because my hands could pull shots and steam milk and layer syrup without any conscious input from the part of me that was currently watching Cassidy bend over a table to take an order, her battle maid skirt riding up high enough that the kid sitting in that chair forgot how to speak.
The menu Harlow designed featured seven themed drinks. The Vampire’s Kiss was the strawberry lemonade with edible glitter and dry ice. The Blood Moon was a cherry mocha with red whipped cream. The Midnight Espresso came in a black cup with sugar skulls drawn on the rim.
The Graveyard Shift was cold brew with chocolate syrup layered to look like dirt. The Witch’s Brew was a matcha latte with purple butterfly pea flower that changed colour when you stirred it.
The Ghost was just a regular flat white served in a white cup, which I appreciated for its honesty. And the Sabrina Special, which Sabrina had named herself and nobody had challenged, was taro milk tea served at room temperature with exactly the amount of pearls she preferred.
Orders came in waves. I worked the machine with the same focus I brought to Friday night rushes at the bar, pulling doubles and singles and managing the steam wand while simultaneously keeping track of which maid was serving which table. Iris and Sarah handled the dessert station with surprising competence, Sarah’s gyaru enthusiasm translating into aggressive customer engagement that moved cookies and cake pops faster than I had anticipated.
"One Vampire’s Kiss, two Midnight Espressos, one Ghost, and something called a Lover’s Bite that isn’t on the menu but the girl at table three made up because she saw the tarot card and got inspired." Harlow appeared at my counter with her order pad, her twin tails swinging and her maid headband slightly crooked.
The frills of her costume bounced with every word. Her neckline had migrated south since the morning, and I could see the edge of a black bra strap against her pale shoulder. She caught me noticing and adjusted the strap by pulling it further down rather than pushing it back up.
"What’s in a Lover’s Bite?"
"I have no idea. You’re the bartender. Make something romantic." She leaned across the counter and her voice dropped. "Make it taste like you."
"Espresso and instant ramen. Got it."
Harlow laughed so hard she snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth and retreated to table three with her cheeks burning. I improvised the Lover’s Bite from vanilla syrup, a shot of espresso, and steamed oat milk with cocoa powder dusted in a heart shape, which felt stupid and pandering, but the girl at table three posted it on Instagram and within twenty minutes six other tables had ordered one.
By noon the cafe was running at full capacity and I had not stopped moving for sixty consecutive minutes. Sweat collected under the collar of my butler costume, and the cape kept catching on the espresso machine’s portafilter arm every time I turned, but the tailcoat’s silk lining was so smooth against my skin that I almost forgot I was wearing clothes that cost more than three months of my old salary.
The custom fangs sat in my vest pocket because I refused to wear them while handling food, a compromise Harlow accepted only after I promised to put them in for photos during the afternoon lull. freēwebnovel.com
Cassidy worked the floor with the terrifying enthusiasm of someone who had been told she could not hit customers but was searching for loopholes in the definition. She took orders with a bluntness that should have been off-putting but somehow charmed every table she served, slamming down drinks with enough force to slosh liquid onto the black tablecloths while maintaining eye contact that dared anyone to complain.
Two boys from the lacrosse team made the mistake of catcalling her as she passed their table, and she turned on them with a smile so dangerous that one of them actually scooted his chair backward.
"Say that again," Cassidy said, her voice sweet as antifreeze. "Louder this time so the girl at the fortune-telling table can hear you. She’s recording."
Sabrina held up her phone from across the room, the camera lens glinting in the purple uplighting.
Both boys ordered four drinks each and tipped excessively. Cassidy pocketed the cash and winked at me across the room, and my stomach did something that had nothing to do with the three espresso shots I had consumed since opening.
