Edgewise

5

She leaned over, clutching his oily sleeve. "We have a kitchen?" She breathed.

The Munch didn't know how to react to or understand Calponia's excitement, mutely pointing toward a plain unmarked door she'd never noticed before. Calponia practically skipped across the room.

A kitchen, a real kitchen! She'd bet a bottle of whiskey it had an actual stove that cooked food and not a shabby hot plate. It probably even had a sink that spat out clean water and not sputtering dribbles of brown water. She bounced through the door and paused with a sharp gaps of wonder.

Polished chrome glimmered and winked at her from various modern appliances, black marble counters providing the perfect offset to the shades of silver. It was completely at odds with the rustic setting of the common room. It was the sort of kitchen she saw in fancy magazines, the sort someone like her never set foot in. There were appliances she didn't recognize. Calponia blinked, utterly dazzled until she noticed the bowl of steaming lumpy mush on the nearest corner.

She looked around but there was no one around. There was no pot on the stove or dishes in the sink. Frowning, she walked up to the bowl. The gruel was so very plain, pure function without a spec of enjoyment. Calponia glanced around and smiled.

Moments later she carried out the bowl to the Munch, placing it before him with a mug of steaming tea.

He muttered his thanks, beginning to shovel it in his mouth. He stopped on the second bite. "What're these orangey lumps?"

"Peaches," said Calponia.

He stared at her. "An' the swirls?"

"Oh, just a bit of cinnamon and brown sugar," she said. "Do you like it?"

He scowled at her and continued to shovel it in. She shrugged and wandered back to the kitchen, wondering what else she could whip up. If there was one thing that continued to give her pleasure in her life, bête noir not withstanding, it was cooking.

The Edgewise had a shockingly well stocked pantry. Did the patrons ever order dinner? How could they not? Mack could make a killing if he served food with all that liquor. Come to think of it, she'd never seen her boss eat either. No one ever took proper care of themselves. Calponia refused to let this playground of cooking go to waste. There were half a dozen crock pots! She gathered a few armfuls of ingredients. Pans and utensils were surprisingly easy to find, exactly where she expected to find them. Soon the sizzle of bacon and eggs filled the air as Calponia chopped vegetables and beef for a stew she set in the largest crock pot.

Whatever magical whammy Mack performed on her last night, Calponia felt more settled in skin than she had in ages. She only nicked herself once and found a box of band-aids strategically placed by the cutting board. Whistling she carried out two plates loaded with scrambled eggs, crisp bacon, toast, and slices of melon. She'd just set them on a table when a door crashed open above. Calponia ignored the escalating string of curses as she fetched a couple mugs of coffee, tucking into her meal as Mack staggered down the stairs.

She winced at the sight of him. His hair and beard stood on end, as if he'd stuck his finger in a light socket. Dark crescents hung under his bloodshot eyes and his skin was the unhealthy shade of sweaty cheese. He clutched the wall as he slid down the stairs, caught between a hang over and magical strain. The bloody bandage on his arm was seeping, one end trailing along the floor.

Calponia gave him an uncertain wave, gesturing to the seat across from her before she looked away. Instinctively, she felt he didn't want her watching him. Several long minutes later, Mack appeared behind the empty chair, sweating from the effort.

"What's this?" He stared down at the plate of food and coffee, weaving slightly on his feet.

"Um, breakfast?" Calponia shoved another mouthful of eggs into her mouth, trying not to gag as Mack's impressive smell hit her in the face like hot wet towel soaked in garbage.

She pondered how to delicately broach the subject of a shower to the man when he slumped in the chair, snagging a piece of bacon. He chewed on it in a moment of silent of contemplation, still staring at the plate.

"Sins of the saints," he breathed, grabbing his fork as if it was a life line.

It was her turn to stare as the man inhaled the food with a speed and ferocity bordering on frightening. It was watching a human hoover in action. He was sopping up the last bits of grease and egg with toast when he looked up at her. "How did you manage this without setting anything on fire?"

She blushed, shifting in her seat. "I like cooking," she muttered, gathering their plates as she rose. She passed by the Munch to collect his bowl.

It was scraped clean.

"Partial to strawberries," the Munch mumbled as she grabbed it. She grinned, heading for the kitchen. She found Mack already there, scowling at the room with his fists on his hips. He looked worlds better with a decent meal in him but could still use a wash.

He whirled on her, causing her to jump and nearly drop her armful. "Did you ask for this?" He snarled, flapping a hand at the immaculate kitchen.

She gave him the look a comment like that deserved. "What are you talking about?"

Mack's expression turned thoughtful. He rubbed a hand through his bristles. "What's that smell?"

Calponia folded her arms. "Stew."

Mack opened his mouth to comment when a familiar alarm tolled through the tavern. She remembered it from her first day here, when he'd strolled off in a duster and bushman's hat like a bearded Indiana Jones.

He pointed at her. "We'll finish this discussion later. Come along. Time to go to work."

"What?" Calponia leaned away from him, wondering if the liquor was still fogging his brain.

"Your apprenticeship starts now, girly," he called over his shoulder.

She gaped at his retreating figure. "You never explained what it meant," she said.

Mack appeared in the doorway, wearing the same coat and hat. "It means you shall accompany me during my duties," he said, eyeing her clothes. "Didn't you wear that yesterday?"

She glared at him, the back of her neck heating up. "I don't have anything else," she said.

He shrugged. "No matter. I doubt anyone will look too closely. Munch, mind the bar!"

Mack looped an arm around her shoulders, enveloping her in his eye watering scent as he dragged her toward the door. It opened as they approached, revealing the endless gray fog that surrounded the tavern.

"Wait---I'm not---could you at least talk a shower first!" Calponia wailed as her boss dragged her outside.

The Edgewise door snapped shut behind them.