Chapter 1.12 - In which Percy is hired

Percy

Month 9, Day 28, Tuesday 8:00 a.m.

If not for the need to maintain his awareness, Percy might have hung his head as he trudged down the sidewalk. His job at the bakery hadn’t involved any knives, and had even allowed him to travel to and from the shop at times that others found inconvenient, which meant that the streets were less crowded—and less dangerous.

Really, the only downside had been the semi-frequent screaming of their boss, and the occasional urgent delivery that Percy was commandeered to help with.

“No more treats for Aethelwulf and Gideon,” he muttered. Lysander was too paranoid about rotting her teeth to indulge, but his two younger siblings would be devastated. Gideon hadn’t learned yet that Percy couldn’t be relied upon when it counted, and might even cry.

But the very worst thing about being fired at this point was that Percy had been so close to saving up enough for the Vista 500. So close to holding her sleek bronze casing, and with a single press of a button, creating the equivalent of an entire painting in three seconds. Camera obscuras were at the forefront of the advancing wave of the future. They were going to put painters out of business, and improve the lives of everyone who had an appreciation for art but couldn’t afford it.

“That planes-damned hag,” he cursed. “Horrid, rude thief woman. Stupid, reckless Percy.” In a small voice, he added, “Thrice-cursed bad luck.” It felt like he was always fighting against the current, struggling with all his might to simply avoid being dragged down, while everyone around him floated in full relaxation on calm waters.

Percy was jerked out of his contemplation by the back door of a restaurant slamming open. “Careless!” he admonished himself. “Anything could have happened while I was distracted!”

A man in a fancy waiter’s uniform exited, carrying a serving platter full of clear glass mugs filled with bright amber beer, thick foam spilling over the edges with every movement. He stumbled toward the street—toward Percy. His eyes were a little too bloodshot, his lips wet and slack, and his motions too loose. He was drunk.

Percy automatically bent his knees, lowering his center of balance so that he was more prepared to react. This man was going to spill the beer, and if Percy’s history was any indication, Percy would be blamed for it—and possibly also drenched by it. He considered running away, but a carriage barreled by at that moment. If Percy had been less cautious, he might have stepped into its path in an attempt to escape the approaching platter of beer.

An auburn-haired young woman stepped out from the restaurant’s back door, scowling like a thundercloud and looking around. She saw the drunk waiter. “Hey!” she shouted, then threw a roll of bread at the back of the man’s head.

Of course, the roll missed her target and would have hit Percy in a strange echo of his boss hitting the customer that morning, but Percy’s left hand shot up, catching the roll squarely.

Percy straightened, staring at the roll in surprise. Sometimes, all his training was useful enough to overcome his bad luck. Sometimes. Though, if he could have chosen, he would have preferred to be hit by a roll of bread if he could instead successfully dodge a battle spell.

“You asshole!” the young woman screamed, completely ignoring Percy. “I need this job, and that glass is worth my entire paycheck!”

While Percy was still distracted by his rare catch, the waiter stumbled, pitching forward.

Somehow, Percy managed to sidestep the man’s lunge while sliding his hands underneath the platter. He lifted and pivoted at the same time, sliding one leg out for balance, which hit the back of the waiter’s legs and turned the man’s stumble into a direct fall.

Percy came to a stop in a one-legged crouch, the other leg gracefully outstretched, with the glass mugs intact and the beer barely spilled.

Very slowly, he stood once more, careful not to undo his almost miraculous save. “Um, sorry about that,” he said to the man he’d tripped, who was groaning on the ground.

The young woman stomped up and grabbed the man by his shoulder, shaking him back and forth in her anger. “I vouched for you! Showing up to work drunk, are you trying to get me fired?”

The man tried to pull away from her, and she stomped down on the small of his back to pin him in place. “Trying to get my paycheck docked? Make me late on the rent? Get me kicked out of my apartment!?”

Percy stood beside them awkwardly, his paranoia that he would somehow manage to drop the platter and break all of the glass growing with each consequence the girl listed. While he was looking for a safe place to put down the platter and extract himself from the situation, she turned her attention toward Percy.

“That was some quick thinking and impressive reflexes. Thank you for your help.” She smiled, white teeth against lips painted almost the same color of her hair, and periwinkle blue eyes looking him up and down.

Percy nodded jerkily. “Welcome. I did it…on purpose. Yes.”

“Do you need a job?”

He blinked. “Um.”

She stepped forward as if afraid that he would escape. “It’s a nice place. Good pay, and you can do part time if you need. Are you old enough to drink liquor?” Before he could answer, she waved her hand as if shooing away the question. “No matter. Have you ever worked in a restaurant before? Certainly you have the dexterity for it. We could use another waiter. How are your knife handling skills? Are you afraid of fire? Do you know any sleight of hand tricks?” She nodded to herself and muttered, “The customers always love that.”

Percy shook his head. This really didn’t sound like a simple waitstaff job—which he had tried before and got fired from on the second day due to causing more damage than his daily pay. He tried to explain this, but she rolled over his attempts to protest like a reinforced war carriage.

“Okay, you’ve got the job for the day. Maybe longer, if it works out.”

Behind her, the drunk waiter had recovered from his stomping and was trying to get up and sneak away, but as if she had an eye in the back of her head, she snapped, “Not so fast.”

The man froze, flinching away from her.

She turned with her hands on her hips in a way that somehow reminded Percy of his mom. “Take off your clothes,” she ordered.

There was a long moment of silence, as the drunk man looked at Percy for help.

Pressing his lips together, Percy shook his head rapidly. He took a step back, once again looking for a place to set the platter down. If he ran quickly enough, maybe he could escape from this very pretty bully who would force a man to walk home naked out of revenge.

“That uniform belongs to the restaurant,” she explained. And despite the drunk man’s initial, feeble attempts to resist, she quickly stripped him of his pants, shirt, vest, and bowtie. She brushed off the faint remnants of a shoe mark on the back of the vest, eyed the clothes, and then sized up Percy. “May be a little loose, but they should fit close enough,” she announced, grinning brightly as the drunk man scurried away behind her in his underclothes.

“No, I can’t.”

Her grin slipped away. “You don’t have to, but we could really use the help. It’s okay if you don’t have experience, if you can just be an extra pair of hands. We’re already short-staffed, there’s no time to get anyone else, and there’s no way we’re going to make it alone. Please. I’ll add an extra five silver to your pay for the day.”

Percy hesitated, thinking of a shiny copper casing and clear lenses…and maybe periwinkle-blue eyes, too. The only smart option was to refuse.

“Okay,” Percy said. “But it would be best to put me somewhere away from the customers, anything sharp, or anything that involves fire or breakables.”

She threw back her head and gave a sharp, bark-like laugh.

Percy was quite concerned that she didn’t seem to be taking this seriously enough.

She waved for him to follow her into the restaurant, then looked over her shoulder with a grin. “I’m Viv, by the way. Lucky for me you were passing by, huh?”

And that was how Percy found himself starting a new job while wearing another man’s clothes.