The Tavern at the Corner of the Multiverse (An Edgewise tale)

The Tavern at the Corner of the Mulitverse

He shook his head waving a dismissive hand at her. "No, no, we don't need that kind of trouble here. Back through the door you go."

"Wait," Calponia rocked forward, slapping her hands on the bar in desperation. "Please, give me a chance." Something popped, filling the air with the scent of well aged whiskey.

To her surprise, the bartender gazed upwards, his expression put out. "Seriously? She's a hot mess!" He addressed the air.

"You could at least give her a trial run, Mack," said the Shakespeare reject in a light alto that made Calponia look twice. Oh, oooooh. She gave a tentative smile which the 'man' returned with a raised glass

"Oh, shut it Cesario," snapped Mack the bartender, glaring at Calponia. "Let's see how you handle the night shift. If you manage not to set anything on fire, you can stay on."

Calponia tried not to look guilty, hoping she could avoid doing so for one damn night. "Deal."

He jerked his head over his shoulder. "There's aprons in the back. Go throw one on and I show you the ropes."

Her rib cage creaked as she released her breath, scurrying around the length of the bar before Mack came to his senses and kicked her butt to the curb. The old whiskey scent permeated the back room even more so than the front. She wondered if there was an open cask somewhere as she found a row of freshly bleached aprons hanging from hooks along the back wall. Calponia took a moment to herself, leaning her forehead against the warm wooden wall as she tried to gather her thoughts in order. They hadn't even discussed hours or payment. What if the wages were pitiful? She was so behind in her finances. Maybe she could make up the difference in tips. Men tipped the fair looking barmaids. She wasn't bad looking for all her misfortunes. She had naturally dark eyelids and lips, it was the reason Mr. Henderson called her a lady of the night. Coupled with bright green eyes and black curls, she thought she looked more gypsy than whore. Well, hazel eyes at least. She could do 'alluring' if she tried. She took a breath, pulling an apron over her grubby jeans and tank top. Least Mack hadn't remarked on the abysmal state of her clothing.

Calponia was knotting the apron strings behind her back when the entire tavern rumbled on its foundations.

She tipped over, crashing into the aprons and landing in a tangle of strings on the floor. "What the hell?" She squawked, fighting to free herself from the strangling apron tendrils as Mack burst into the back room.

"I gotta go, you need to tend the bar."

"What?" She must have sounded slightly hysterical because he paused long enough to frown at her.

"I must answer the warning bell. Something is where it should not be," he said, utterly cryptic. He smacked the side of a metal locker in the corner, popping it open to reveal a worn leather jacket and squashed looking bushman's hat. "Relax, I'll be back in an hour or so, before the evening rush hits. Just keep an eye on things and don't let Eugene snack on anyone."

"What-what?" She sputtered, dogging his steps as he hustled back out front. "What the bloody hell is a Eugene?"

"Yo," said the pale man, nodding his chin at her.

Mack squinted at him. "Abide bar rules," he said. The pale man waved him off. The bartender rounded on the Shakespearean reject. "Can you keep an eye on her?"

"I shall try my best sir," 'he' said.

"Good enough," said Mack, grabbing the panicking Calponia by the shoulders. He gave her a slight shake to stop her babbling. "It will be fine. It's merely a border dispute. We'll discuss particulars when I get back." He headed towards the door, stopping at the last second. He whirled around, pointing at her. "No fires. I hate fires. Oh, and, don't leave the door open."