Super Powereds: Year 3 (14 page)

“You were a half-second too long,” Chad informed him.

From anyone else, Roy would have thought this needless criticism; however, he’d learned long ago that Chad was precise by nature. He didn’t understand that some people didn’t mind spilling a little for showmanship, so to him, these criticisms were perfectly valid. After all, he would genuinely appreciate someone telling him he was making an error, so he could correct it.

“Thanks, I’ll watch that. Your turn,” Roy said, setting the bottles back in line.

“Ready.”

“Vegas Bomb.”

They were working on Blue Waves when Alice and Angela meandered over. Angela hopped onto a stool with a curiously practiced motion that came off rather graceful. Alice, on the other hand, just stood there and tried to look more confident than she felt with as much cleavage and stomach as she was showing.

Though Alice had been worried, her interview had been a fairly simple process. Roger made sure she had good memory and people skills, then told her she was pretty much good to go. His requirements for wait staff and shot girls were far less stringent that the ones for bartending or cooking. Alice was good-looking and smart; she could handle running tables at a club. It was a surprise to both of them when she asked if she could try being a shot girl first, but one Roger was happy to accommodate.

Standing around in her uniform, Alice still wasn’t sure what had prompted to make that rash request. All she knew was that she wanted very much to try something new and daring. She wanted to get out of her head and have some excitement, rather than spend her days worrying and wondering about all the mysterious secrets in her life.

“Hey good-looking, how about a shot?” Angela said, greeting the new bartenders.

“Sure thing, what can I make for you?” Roy replied.

“Sorry there, big fella. I was talking to Chad.”

“I’m sure I can create anything you’d like,” Chad said, stepping up to the bar in a move he had been secretly practicing. He hoped it came off as knowledgeable, yet accessible.

“Oooh, a man with confidence. Let me have a shot of whiskey then.”

“That requires very little skill,” Chad said. “But the customer is always right.” He grabbed a plastic bottle with red water and poured a perfectly measured amount into a shot glass, then slid it over to Angela.

“What is this?”

“Whiskey,” Chad replied, a small hint of pride in his voice at the grace and precision of his pour.

“You know what, this is really my fault,” Angela said, shaking her head and sending her golden-blonde hair flowing in all directions. “I knew who I was talking to. Never mind, I’m better off starting out sober anyway, since I have to show the new girl the ropes.” With that, she left her stool and gestured to Alice.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other bartenders. They’ll hit on you relentlessly, but I wouldn’t recommend taking any of them home.”

“Right, bad idea to date coworkers,” Alice said.

“Oh. Yeah, sure, that too. But mostly because the only cute one is awful in bed.” Angela turned around and threw the boys a coy grin. “Good luck tonight, you two. Holler if you need anything.”

“Will do,” Roy called back.

Chad merely gave a wave instead of a verbal goodbye. His attention was occupied, trying to process the strange feeling in his stomach that Angela’s words had suddenly given him. There was nothing wrong with the stomach itself, he could have righted that easily, yet the heavy sense persisted all the same. He’d have to tinker with his brain chemistry when he had more time. For now, there was prep work to do.

22.

With their first day’s training done, and back in their regular clothes, Mary, Vince, and Camille were all piled into Camille’s car and pulling onto the road when Mary spoke up.

“Oh, sorry Camille, would you mind taking a left here instead of a right?”

“I’m pretty sure the campus is to the right,” Camille said.

“It is, but Vince and I aren’t going to the campus,” Mary informed her.

“We aren’t?” Vince asked from the back seat.

“No, we aren’t. We’re going to Six-Shooter, which is only about five minutes from here. Camille, you are certainly welcome to join us if you want. Alice and Roy both have their first shifts at their new jobs tonight, and we’re going to go support them.”

“They do? Neither of them mentioned anything to me.”

Mary knew quite well that neither had told Vince, nor almost anyone else for that matter. Alice had confided in her verbally, but Mary had gotten the information about Roy’s start date from reading his mind. Both of them were nervous; they wanted to do well, since this was now part of the program’s requirements. Neither had encouraged visitors out of fear that they’d find they were awful at the job and be fired sometime in the night. Mary understood that fear, just as she understood it was her duty as a friend to ignore it and go offer them support anyway.

“Trust me on this, they start tonight. That’s why I had you wear something nice today.”

Vince glanced down. He was wearing a polo and jeans, along with dark shoes. Mary had, in fact, stopped him from leaving in shorts and a t-shirt, telling him that it was inappropriate to show up for training looking so unprofessional. He’d taken her at her word, though now, he was beginning to see she’d been setting him up for the after-work plans.

“Should I ask why we’re going even though they didn’t mention anything?”

“You just did, and the answer is because it’s what friends do. Take it from someone who listens to thoughts day in and day out: they will be very glad we came to see and reassure them on how good a job they’re doing.”

“Okay, Mary. I do trust you. Let’s go see our friends. Sorry to impose on you like this, Camille.”

“It’s only a few minutes away,” Camille replied. “Besides, you say that like I’m not going there anyway.”

“You are?”

“Now that I know Roy and Alice are starting tonight, of course I am.”

“You hate clubs,” Vince pointed out.

“You aren’t a big fan of them either,” Camille shot back. “But Mary is right: this is something friends do for one another.” Though her voice was confident, inwardly, she was wilting. Camille truly did hate such overtly social gathering places, however, that hate was nothing compared to the feeling of disappointment she’d experience if she let her own awkwardness get in the way of helping someone she cared for.

With a firm twist of the wheel, her small car took a turn to the left, and they were off.

*              *              *

Roy hadn’t realized how much he had lost touch with his wild partying side until he saw the steadily growing line outside the club as people filtered past the bouncer and paid their cover. He’d thought it would be slow, since this was a Wednesday, after all. Almost immediately on the heels of that thought was the realization that this was a college town, and no one cared if they had a hangover in class the next day. Roy briefly contemplated why that had taken so long to dawn on him, and when he reached the answer, he didn’t know how he felt about it. Roy had thought no one would come out tonight because he wouldn’t have come out tonight. He had training, he needed to be sharp for class, and he just had better things to do with his time. Roy, to put a point on it, cared more about the program than about drinking and getting laid. He couldn’t figure out when that had happened, but there was no denying that it had.

He didn’t dwell on it for long, though, both because Roy could really only dwell on grudges and challenges and because business picked up too much for him to sit around contemplating his own priority changes. He slung beers easily; cocktails and shots took a little longer, though. Roy found himself thankful for the practice pouring; his own skills had gotten a bit rusty, and it was turning out that they needed to be in peak performance to keep up with the growing crowd’s thirst.

Though initially skeptical at how a guy like Chad would handle serving drinks, Roy found himself incredibly grateful for the partner he’d gotten at this bar. Chad’s speed, precision, and efficiency helped minimize the wait for their customers, allowing Roy a little time to chat with some of the more interested women and talk them into pairing some shots with their drinks. Despite being in the club’s smallest bar, they quickly acquired a large amount of customers, Chad’s speed and Roy’s charm creating a quick, happy turnover.

They quickly realized that the barbacks were almost useless to them; the smallest bar was low priority compared to the larger ones drawing in hordes of drinkers. Roy and Chad immediately worked out a rotation system, where one of them would make runs to the back during lulls. Roy took this job more frequently than Chad, if for no other reason than the fact that the blond young man’s speed and coordination meant he could more easily handle an unexpected swell of orders without letting a crowd build up.

The only real challenge Roy had faced so far was limiting himself. He easily could have grabbed three times as much beer per trip as he was lugging, however, doing so would raise too many questions and suspicions. Though he had a bit more wiggle room than the others regarding the issues of his identity, he’d also made it obvious that he had existing friendships with Chad, Angela, and Alice already. Anyone curious about the guy lifting far more than he should with such ease could connect those dots without a whole lot of trouble. Which, strangely enough, Roy also found he now cared about.

As he lifted his last stack of beer boxes for his current restocking run, he decided that maybe he should make a point to go to the bars a little more frequently. All this hanging around the same people every day was making him soft.

23.

Chad wasn’t much of one for mulling. He meditated, anticipated, planned, and exercised logic frequently, but the act of allowing a single thought to putter around his brain endlessly was one he very rarely engaged in. On this night, however, he found himself mulling frequently. Twice, he nearly forgot to garnish a drink properly. The annoying thought buzzing around his head was growing more adamant to be heard and considered, so much so that eventually Chad caved and asked the advice of the nearest person at hand.

“Roy, you are well-experienced in the art of male and female relations, correct?”

Their bar had slowed to near empty, the cooler was stocked with beer, and the counter had been freshly cleaned. If there was ever a chance to talk, this was going to be it.

“Yes indeed, and the way I do it, it is definitely art,” Roy replied, giving a flirtatious wink to the redhead on the other side of the dance floor. She blushed slightly, then turned her back on him. Roy was unbothered; he didn’t mind the shy types. Truthfully, there were exceptionally few types of women Roy minded at all.

“Noted. I have a question for you, but the nature of it is slightly uncomfortable.”

Roy glanced at his fellow bartender with a critical eye. Chad never really showed outward signs of discomfort, but if one knew him long enough, there were small things to look for. He stood up straighter, he kept his eyes right on the person he was talking to, and he kept his feet planted even when it was inconvenient. Basically, he overcompensated and did the opposite of all the things uncomfortable people normally did.

“No need to worry,” Roy replied. “Bartender’s code. Whatever is said behind this bar, stays behind this bar.”

Chad gave a nod and inscribed this rule into his brain. He’d need to see if there were any other caveats to this code at some point. As a fellow bartender, he was now obligated to hold to it just as much as Roy.

“Earlier, when Angela mentioned sleeping with one of the other bartenders, I felt a strange sensation in my stomach. I’ve checked every digestive function, and there is nothing to account for it, but still it persists. This leads me to believe it might be psychological in nature. The part I’m having trouble puzzling out is why my mind would conjure phantom pain at those words.”

Roy stared at Chad for a full minute, long enough that Chad had to pause the conversation and hand a customer a beer. He thought long and hard about his next words, because he had a feeling they were going to be very important.

“I’ve got a theory,” Roy said at last. “But I want to be sure before I tell you anything. You mind if I ask a few follow-up questions?”

“By all means, please be thorough.”

“All right. Just for clarification, your . . . talent, how does it affect your emotions?”

“Most emotions are caused by chemical shifts in the brain,” Chad replied. “A balance of various amounts of dopamine, serotonin, epinephrine, and several others all work together to create what we perceive as feelings. I keep mine regulated to maintain an optimum attitude. You could say that I’m still experiencing the emotions themselves, just not the overpowering effects of them.”

“But sometimes, things get through, right? Like at Camille’s party.”

“I can maintain the balance of what I feel, but that doesn’t dissipate the cause,” Chad explained. “And since it is my brain we are talking about, this is an area where losing control for a moment means it is very hard to regain it. I have to use the organ that is out of control in order to reestablish control.”