Yesterwary

Demi brushed a drop of what she thought was sweat from her forehead, before removing a serving of French fries from the new, dedicated deep-fryer. Suddenly, she felt another drop on her head, and then another. She examined the ceiling for leaks, then turned and crossed her arms, staring intently at Xander, who was acting suspiciously innocent by the sink.

“Everything okay, Chef?” he asked, looking up obliviously.

Demi scowled and returned to her French fries. This time, in her peripheral vision, she caught him tossing a sprinkle of water from his fingertips in her direction. Without a second thought, she chucked a handful of parsley at him from the counter. Within moments, after a brief stare-off, all manner of food items filled the air, and they found themselves in the midst of a full-on food fight. Fortunately, the restaurant hadn’t opened yet, so the only people who could act as witnesses to the incident were Cindy, Kelly, and a somewhat-confused Bastian.

“What’s going on?” Bastian asked, trying to sound light-hearted, but coming off more jealous than anything.

“Very serious chef-business,” Demi joked, fishing a piece of carrot from her hair.

“Obviously,” he nodded, eyes narrowing in on Xander. “I just wanted to let you know that I talked to the new guy at Work Placement. He said it might be a while before he can give you any more newcomers. Apparently, Adrian bumped you to the top of the list, the other day. Some other employers are a little pissed.”

“That’s okay,” Demi sighed. “Xander’s very good at multi-tasking. I’m basically treating him as my own personal Cinderella. Isn’t that right?”

Xander agreed and began cleaning up the mess they had made. “She promised me a pretty dress if I scrape the floors, clean the windows, scrub the ceiling, and mop the oven.”

Demi lost herself in snickers, but quickly quieted herself at the sight of Bastian’s hard expression. Not only was he confused because he didn’t have the slightest clue what a ‘Cinderella’ was, but he was very clearly agitated by the manner in which Demi and Xander were socializing.

“Right… Well, I have to get back to work,” Bastian said, glancing distantly as Demi. “I’ll see you later.”

Demi nodded, brows furrowed with concern as she watched him leave.

“Your boyfriend?” Xander asked, sincerely curious as he plopped a handful of ruined food into the trash.

The corners of Demi’s mouth twitched as she lowered her eyes to the stove. She hadn’t thought of him as her boyfriend, before, but the idea made it difficult for her to do anything other than smile. “I suppose so.”

“He’s cute,” he said. “In a freaky, dark-and-brooding sort of way. Did you two know each other in the old world?”

“No,” she laughed. “He was my guide. I met him my first day here.”

“Aww!” Xander cooed, patting a hand over his cracked chest as he tilted his head. “That’s adorable.”

“Shut up,” she huffed, attempting to sound stern. “Finish cleaning up this mess.” But no matter how hard she tried to present herself as harsh, the smile crept right back onto her face, and Xander noticed.

“It’s kind of sad, though, isn’t it?” he contemplated, mop sloshing across the tile. “That you guys found each other here, I mean. If you would have had in the old world what you have here, you probably wouldn’t even know Yesterwary exists.”

Demi shrugged and tossed a pan of cake batter into the oven. “I guess. I’d give anything to have my sister back, but considering the circumstances, I think things could be a lot worse. This place is supposed to be terrible, but I think people have been conditioned to believe that. They don’t know where to look for the good.”

“Is there any? Good?”

“There’s always good. There’s always beauty.”

Xander stared at her for a moment too long, before getting back to his work, but Demi didn’t notice. Or, at least, she pretended not to.

“Order!” Xander shouted, weaving his way around Demi to the window.

“I know it’s not your fault,” Cindy said, leaning against the counter with exhaustion before taking hold of the warm plate, “but we really need help out here.”

Demi glanced out over the packed restaurant and sighed. “I’ve got the kitchen under control,” she said, patting Xander on the back. “Help them serve for a bit?”

He nodded obediently, but just as he was about to toss his chef’s hat to the rack, a familiar face made its way to the window. Demi’s eyes peered in uncertainty and irritation.

“I’m sorry I ran out on you the other day,” the woman Bastian had called ‘Jess’ said, nervously scratching at her arm. “I was… I don’t know. Scared, I guess.”

Her reaction was understandable, of course. Anyone who had suddenly found themselves in such a peculiar place, only to be told that they had run out of love and would never have the privilege of experiencing it, and also that they would, now, have to work in a place of someone else’s choosing, lest they be doomed to non-conformism for the rest of their days... A little bit of leeway, surely, could be granted to them.

“Jess?” Demi asked. At the woman’s nod, she threw her an apron from behind the window. “Thanks for coming back.”

Jess’ nerves subsided a bit at the realization that her boss wasn’t going to verbally, or physically, attack her. She tied the apron around her waist, and Cindy gave her a small notebook for taking orders. Demi glanced up from the stove, now and again, pleased to see that her restaurant was actually running fairly smoothly, and that Jess was an absolute natural at dealing with customers.

Demi thought of her first “real” job in the old world, which was, of course, waitressing. She’d been beyond terrible at it. She may have actually been the worst waitress to have ever existed. The carrying plates, and remembering orders, and memorizing the daily specials—all that she was perfectly fine with. It was the people-skills that had posed a serious problem. Some have a tendency to treat waiters as if they’re not real human beings, rather objects that happen to look an awful lot like human beings, but whose only purpose in life is to move plates from one location to another, and to sometimes ignore the occasional, crude smack on the ass. Demi didn’t excel at ignoring crude ass-smackings, nor was she very good at dealing with bullshit in general. The moment a customer would say something she found even remotely belligerent, she developed what her old manager had called “Chronic Sassy-Pants.” “Chronic Sass” had also been the reason she was fired four days after starting. But Demi wasn’t a waitress, anymore. She was a chef. She was a manager. This was her restaurant, which was why she had no qualms about grabbing a very intimidating meat-cleaver from the knife-rack and rushing out from the kitchen when she caught sight of one of the customers’ hands feeling up an inappropriate part of one of her waitresses’ bodies.

“It’s okay,” Kelly whispered, looking down to the floor.

“It’s a lot of things,” Demi said firmly. “‘Okay’ isn’t one of them.”

“Calm down, babe.” The customer was a middle-aged man with not enough hair and too much gut. “She doesn’t care.”

Demi examined Kelly’s face and could immediately tell that she did, in fact, care. Demi had witnessed the same look on some of her coworkers at her job in the old world. They certainly felt violated, but they took it because they didn’t want to risk losing a tip.

“Maybe not,” Demi said, running her thumb along the blade of the knife. “But I care. And, seeing as how this is my restaurant, that’s all that really matters, isn’t it?”

The man snorted and shook his head, reaching a burger toward his face to hint that he was done with the conversation. Without thought or expression, Demi knocked the food from his hands. All eyes in the restaurant fell on the burger, which was now spattered across the floor. The man’s eyes went dark as he rose to his feet. He towered over Demi, but she didn’t budge; she only glared up at him, knife twirling dangerously in her fingers.

Xander emerged, cast-iron skillet in hand, and situated himself next to Demi. He may not have been the biggest guy on the block, but his arms were glistening from the kitchen-heat, which made his muscles appear much more toned than they actually were.

The man begrudgingly made his way for the door, but stopped for a moment to mutter, “Stupid bitch.”

Demi’s gut sank as Xander grabbed the knife from her hand and threw it with full force. The restaurant filled with gasps, and then silence, as the knife protruded from the wall, inches from the man’s head. Demi inhaled shakily, regaining her composure before speaking.

“You, sir, are banned from The Old Chicken,” she said, relieved that her voice sounded steady. “And if I hear of anyone giving him our food,” she continued, glancing around to all the astounded faces, “they’ll be banned, as well. I will not put up with this kind of bullshit in my restaurant.”

At closing, it came as a bit of a surprise that the amount of tips left for the servers was significantly higher than usual. Demi leaned her back against the stove, staring blankly at the wall across from her, barely aware of the sounds of Xander cleaning the kitchen.

“You could have killed him,” she finally said, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

“But I didn’t. If I’d wanted to, I would have,” he muttered.

“You missed on purpose?”

“Of course. That would have made a horrible mess,” he joked.

“So… what? You just happen to have amazing knife-throwing skills?”

“Hell no. I trained for years to be able to throw like that.”

“Why?”

“I grew up in a very conservative town,” he explained. “The older folks were conservative, anyway. People my age shared their parents’ ideals, but lacked their composure. I was bullied a lot, and decided I wanted to be able to protect myself.”

“Knife throwing, then. Makes sense.”

Xander sighed. “When I say I was bullied, I don’t mean hurtful words, Demi. More than once, I ended up in the hospital. I’m fortunate to be alive.”

“Why would people treat you like that?”

“Surely, you know,” he said, surprised.

Demi shrugged and shook her head, completely oblivious. She looked him over, trying to find any sort of clue as to how someone could possibly hate him so much. He seemed like a good guy; smart and funny, and not unattractive. She thought any man would have been lucky to have him.