Sons of Death

Chapter 4: It Sort of Went Well

Chapter 4

~ It Sort of Went Well ~

   

    Meriwether pushed open the door to the White Maid. Instead of starting off in the kitchen with Mrs. Eckert as most nights, he was called directly to the bar with Morgan. The bartender thrust an apron his way. “Just like the other night, lad. You remember what to do?”

    Meriwether nodded his head. “Of course,” he replied.

  Beatrice joined him at the bar as he finished the knotting his apron behind his back. She smiled at hip, tucking wispy red hair behind her ears. “You’re working with us tonight, sweetie? Mary told me how well you did with her the other night,” she commented, “I suppose I should feel blessed.” She glanced at Morgan. “Does that mean we’re busy tonight?”

    Morgan shook his head. “N-no. I think, I mean, I heard that it’s been snowin’ a lot in the neighborin’ towns and that the snow is headin’ our way. A good glass of ale always warms the heart, they say.”

    Meriwether scrutinized his eyes at the bartender. He had gotten awfully red in the face. And all that stuttering? Meriwether suddenly smiled to himself as he caught the endearing look Morgan suddenly cast upon Beatrice when she looked away. He was obviously smitten.

     Beatrice whipped an apron around herself before turning to him shortly. “I will handle the tables on the right,” she explained, “You, the ones on the left.”

     Nodding his head, Meriwether set off to handle the needs of his assigned tables. It felt nice to take orders from another after a long day of playing leader. The girls that worked the daytime shift, Maddie and Nicole, were sweeping up the floors as he sidled up beside his first table. He normally only caught sight of them as they left the tavern through the back door in the kitchen.

    Nicole offered him a polite smile as their gazes met. Maddie seemed preoccupied with gathering together a couple discarded cheese rinds of the floor and did not notice his presence. Nicole spared a moment of her time to point to a table at the back. “They are almost done,” she informed him. “All you must do is retrieve their charge. Here.” She handed him the notepad from her apron.

    Meriwether thanked her and walked over to the table to do what she asked. The atmosphere remained very quiet until about nine o’clock. After that, people started to pour in like flies drawn to a smelly carcass. Meriwether and Beatrice ran around the tavern carrying sloshing beer mugs, pies, soup, pork and cabbage, and anything else Mrs. Eckert cared to whip up for the hungry visitors.

    

  As ten o’clock chimed on the clock, Meriwether took a moment’s rest at the bar. He took the edge of his apron and wiped it across his brow. His muscles ached from carrying so many plates; his sleeves stank of spilled beer. He still had hours left in his shift, yet his eyelids were already drooping. Morgan saw his state and laughed. “Cheer up, lad,” he said, “Tis Friday – we get our wages today! Just a few more hours of work, and you can walk home with a pocket full of coins!”
   Meriwether remarked that this was true, but did not change the fact he simply wished to lay down on the floor and sleep until the morrow. Morgan laughed again. He slid him a cold beer in sympathy. “Have a drink, Meri. That will put a little spark in your step.”

   As he lifted the glass to his lips, the door to the tavern swung open. Meriwether prayed that whoever had walked in would sit on Beatrice’s side. The face Morgan suddenly made told him it was not so. “Looks like you have another to tend to, lad. Sorry.”