Stacey counted down the cash while Jamie started locking up the stock, and with a whimper I hauled myself to my feet to help. I cleaned empty cups off the tables, and as I did so I realized we should have been doing that all day. We’d been so focused on serving people that the tables in our tavern looked like the overflow from the trash can: empty plastic cups stacked inside each other, some knocked over and lying in a puddle of hours-old beer dregs. I wrinkled my nose and made several trips to the nearest trash can, depositing plastic cups and paper cartons with a stray French fry in the bottom or a mostly gnawed turkey leg.
“People are pigs,” I said after finishing my fourth trip. I wet a clean bar rag in melted ice and wiped down the tables. The ones in the back were neater, like they had hardly been used. As I wiped one of them I realized from this vantage point, I could barely see the main lane at all. These tables were pretty well hidden.
“Can we move some of these tables?” I asked.
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t see why not. Right now?”
“God, no.” I tossed the rag in the trash and reached for the bow tying my bodice closed. “This wench is done for the day.” I loosened the laces and sucked in a grateful breath. “But maybe next weekend. People seem to be using the front tables as trash deposit, and no one’s hanging out, which is kind of the point of a tavern, right? Maybe if people lingered, they wouldn’t think of the place as a garbage dump.”
He shrugged again. “Worth a try.”
“We missed pub sing both days this weekend.” Stacey’s expression was mournful as she leaned wearily against the bar.
I shook my head. “What the hell’s a pub sing?” We were already in a pub, and nothing was happening. Was I going to have to sing? My head was pounding, I could barely feel my feet, and I’d just taken my first deep breath all day. There was no way anyone could expect me to sing like this.
“Pub sing,” Stacey repeated as though that explained everything. God, I was sick of being the newbie. I hated being told things with no explanation, as though I were supposed to magically know. My exasperation must have shown, because she hurried to explain. “It’s a sort of farewell at the end of the day. Some of the entertainers and most of the cast members gather at the stage up front. We sing songs, give toasts, and generally thank the patrons for coming. And since it’s up at the front, it’s an easy step to usher the patrons out so we can close the gates at the end of the day.” She pulled at her own corset strings behind her back and her sigh deepened. “I don’t know what we’re doing wrong this year that we can’t get up front at the end of the day.”
“I don’t know, either.” I moved behind her to help loosen her corset. “We’ll do better next week, okay?” We had to. This pub sing thing was important to her, so it was up to me to figure out a way to make that happen for her.
“The two of you weren’t at pub sing.” My eyes flew up from where I’d been concentrating on unlacing Stacey’s corset. Simon strode under the canopy and into the tavern, his hat in his hand. He didn’t look like a pirate anymore, even though he still wore the outfit. He was back to being Simon again. He’d dropped the accent, and his regular voice made my blood pressure rise, and not in the fun way his pirate persona did.
“Brilliant deduction.” I dropped my eyes again, dismissing him and getting back to unlacing Stacey, but she ruined my snarky effect by sighing.
“I know. I was telling Emily that we need to start getting over there at the end of the day.”
“You do. And you need to get out from behind the bar more. Wenches are supposed to add color to the place. You should be interacting more with the patrons, enticing them in. As it is, all you’re doing is acting like cashiers. You’re hardly in character at all.”
I breathed in sharply through my nose as Simon ended his diatribe. I couldn’t believe this. All that time he was kissing my hand and making me think indecent thoughts about moonlight, and he’d been critiquing my performance. How could he turn on a dime like that? Be fun and flirty with me all weekend, and then, as soon as the day is over—bam—back to his old critical self? I was getting emotional whiplash from dealing with him.
Stacey nodded along with him, but I wasn’t going to take this criticism lying down. My feet hurt too much to not defend myself.
“I’d love to.” I gave Stacey’s laces a couple more good tugs and she was free. Then I gave Simon my full attention. “I’d absolutely love to spend more time talking to people, interacting, all of that. But instead I’m working my ass off for this Faire.” Hands on my hips, I marched over to Simon until we were practically nose to nose. It was my turn to be in his personal space. “You were in here this afternoon. You saw how busy we were, right?” I barely gave him time to respond before I kept going. “You’ve got three people here, trying to do the work of at least six. There’s no way you can expect us to sell drinks at the volume we’re working here and be interactive at the same time. Unless you’ve got a cloning machine somewhere I don’t know about.”
My heart pounded against the walls of my bodice as I finished speaking, and I found myself wishing I’d taken it off completely before I’d lit into Simon. Loosened or not, I was a little light-headed from ripping him a new one.
He opened his mouth, closed it again. He looked from me to Stacey, then over to Jamie, who had locked up the cashbox and was leaving to take it up front, completely unconcerned about the costume drama happening in front of him. “See you next week,” Jamie said with a little wave, rubbing in the fact that none of this shit concerned him. I envied him. Could we trade places? Could I wrangle him into a corset next week and take his red T-shirt? Probably not.
The three of us watched him walk away, then turned back to each other. But the moment had passed.
“Are we done?” Now the fight had gone out of me, leaving exhaustion in its wake. My feet were killing me from standing all day, and I wanted to go home. I wanted a shower, and I wanted my bed.
Simon wasn’t looking at me. He was looking around the tavern as though he’d never seen the place before. “Yeah,” he finally said. He rubbed the back of his neck, then ran a hand down one bristled cheek. “Yeah,” he said again. “We’re done.”
“Good.” Now that I wasn’t actively angry at him, I could see he looked as tired as I felt. Of course he was—he’d spent the day performing, and he was also one of the point people for the whole event. Most of the Faire’s success or failure rested directly on him. It was a heavy burden.
But he didn’t have to carry it alone. I wasn’t about to suggest anything to his face, because he’d probably shoot down any idea I had. But that didn’t mean I was going to sit on my hands, either.
I turned to Stacey. “We’ll get this figured out, okay? I promise, you’re not going to miss pub sing for the entire summer.” She gave me a tired smile in response, and that was good enough for me. “I have to go find Caitlin, but I’ll think about it this week and figure out what we need to do better. I’ll text you, okay?”