I Unintentionally Became Her Kitten

Chapter 95: A Normal Day, For Once

My hair fought with me as I brushed and then attempted to do the gentle tousled curl that Stella did so effortlessly.

Alisha was next to me, doing her makeup so perfectly with no trouble at all. And then she helped me do mine. And offered me a spray.

“If you're going to be working all day, you might not have a good chance to touch it up so this might help.”

I took it from her, looked at the small bottle. Something called a waterproof setting spray. I used it, feeling the soft mist on my face and waiting as it dried. My eyes stung a little from the product and it left a slight tacky feeling to my skin, like I'd slathered on a great deal of liquid foundation. I didn't know if I liked the feeling, but I was sure I'd get used to it.

“Are you sure you’re okay with going out this early?” I asked.

She nodded, and then finished adjusting the potency of her lipstick. She’d been far more bold with it lately. “If I show up in the morning, Luka won’t have as much time to sweep things under the rug after I inform him I’ll be dropping in. Right now, I can’t let them think that forgiving their transgressions means I’ll be complacent. I will more than likely be taking some fingers today. But hopefully there isn’t anything so egregious there’ll be more death.”

Her shoulders swelled and then deflated as she sighed heavily.

“You can’t keep losing people at this rate,” I followed.

She nodded. “But this kind of upheaval is always a bloodbath.”

“You’ve dealt with this before?” I asked.

“I murdered my father.” Her voice was flat, almost angry. “It was not a peaceful fight to gain respect after that.”

I swallowed and turned back to the reflection in the mirror. I looked like a normal girl now. Hair styled but not too formal, clean and well dressed, even if my clothes were casual. Starmaids needed casual. I couldn’t show up there the way I had to the banquet. I’d probably get sent home.

“You had Tye, though, right?”

She nodded. “Yes. And he found Matteo and helped me gain his loyalty as well.”

There was quite a story there. But I didn’t want to pry. Tye was complicated. Matteo even more so. Quiet but secretly caring the both of them. Otherwise Matteo wouldn’t have the patience or capacity to be gentle with me or Lili. And Tye always knew what someone needed… an evidence bag, a holster, a clean tissue to wipe the tears away. Like Alisha, I found it hard to consolidate his being. The tough mantle or the soft molten core I suspected was weeping as much as Alisha was.

They’d just been kids when their souls were sold, after all.

Tye picked us up in the grey Hon-yoda. I sat quietly, gratefully in the back seat. Now that I looked, the upholstery was in very good condition. Clean. Alisha and him both had that habit of keeping things spotless.

I was dropped off outside the Starmaid’s back door, I sensed Tye waiting as the door shut behind me. They wouldn’t tolerate me being on my own. 

Charlotte was nowhere to be found. But I could grasp some of the basics. I pulled an apron free of the tangled stack of them and fitted it over my head, reached my hands back, tried to tie it, just to find my fingers fumbling over themselves. The cafe was so quiet. Within two minutes though, another girl came in through the back door. In that flash of the outside world, I saw the Hon-Yoda was gone. I felt utterly alone.

“Hi,” the other girl said, unsure. “Uhm. Are you new?”

I nodded. “Kit,” I introduced myself and held out a somewhat clumsy hand. She took it, probably purely out of politeness. Her uncertainty and awkwardness showed. We were coworkers, not business associates. The rules were different here than Alisha’s world. The girl introduced herself as Kye and immediately started to launch into an explanation of the opening routine. There was a lot. It felt like Kye had done this before. Many times. 

At five thirty-four Charlotte showed up, clocked in and went into the back office. I got the rundown on where things were kept, how to use the espresso machine, getting a detailed explanation of ‘hit this button for decaf, this one for regular or this one for blonde roast and then select the number of shots and then hit go.’ She said this while her fingers pressed the corresponding keys on the machine too quickly for me to fully absorb where they were. This became the norm for the rest of the morning and when she handed me a clear glass saying, ‘try it out,’ I was completely lost. She walked me through a basic latte, explaining the number of pumps and shots and amount of milk which I wasn’t going to remember right away. 

After the open I went from confused to confused-and-panicked. More baristas showed up, more offered advice though I could rarely figure out where in my brain to place it. It was hard to form a mental catalogue of dos, frappe, crema, flat white, steamwand… everything all at once. 

And then the customers came. 

It was slow at first, a person or two up early to go to work early, then they came faster, and then faster still until there were ten people in the line and I was thrown on the register since I was only getting in the way when making drinks, but the cash register was as confusing as everything else. I didn’t understand— didn’t know– and my heart was pounding, pounding, pounding. My fingers were shaking in a way I didn’t usually feel unless I might die. Charlotte did come out of the back office, observed me at the register, shook her head disappointedly.

I wanted to cry.

And I wasn't the one having to take people’s fingers.

After the initial rush there was a frenzy for breaks and the line cleared out. I leaned against the back counter, lost. There was one other coworker on the line. A person named Alex who had no gender or all gender, and I wasn't sure how to ask. Or if that assumption was even right in the first place.

I saw a customer approach. Alex was sweeping up the floor so I went up and ran the cash register, taking the order. I knew kind of where things were now. The woman wanted two frappes. I felt myself panic a little. I didn't know frappes. And two of them meant Alex was going to expect me to make at least one.

They looked up from sweeping and accepted the cup with the little label on it from me. I went back to the two blenders with them, trying frantically to remember, and looking at the list of ingredients nestled in-between the machines to remember how many shots, how much syrup, how much frappe mix.

Alex’s elbow bumped me gently as they got the blender cover open.

I looked over, frazzled. They had the milk out already, and silently turned the blender cup a little so the measurements down the side faced me.

I blinked. And watched. First ice and then milk and syrup and then the ‘frappe mix’ that looked kind of like sludge and smelled overwhelmingly like espresso. And then it was put into the blender and Alex hit the ‘frappe’ button. I mirrored their actions, watching the measurement lines, counting the pumps of syrup and then put it in the machine and watched it blend into a smooth frozen coffee. Alex had a subtle smile as they then took some more of the chocolate syrup and put it along the inside of the cup to give it a drizzled look even after they filled it. I mimicked them, shocked at how well that little trick worked and then put the lid on and for the first time that day, handed it to the customer with some amount of pride. Alex went back to sweeping after. It took me a long time to gather my nerves enough to ask, “what name do you prefer?”

“Just Alex is fine,” they said quietly. “I use they/them pronouns.”

I nodded. “I go by Kit. She/her pronouns.”

Alex nodded, swept the coffee grounds away. “Don’t let Charlotte get under your skin,” they said. “She was promoted from barista I think because she was the oldest and at least showed up to all of her shifts, but that doesn’t mean she was suited for it.”

“I see.”

“You wanna grab a broom and sweep so she doesn’t get pissy?” they asked. 

I nodded and found a second broom to sweep a different area of the line. It wasn’t really necessary, but I didn’t know what else to do. 

Alex and I chatted quietly. They were non binary. I didn’t disclose that I fell into the ‘trans’ category but they could probably tell anyway. I did admit to being a lesbian, wanting to offer something to start building that trust. When we finished sweeping, it was cleaning other things. They showed me how to empty the espresso machine of the compressed pucks of coffee grounds, and then told me to always wipe it out before sliding it back in since coffee was shockingly oily. Other nuances, the kinds of things I had questioned before, they explained without me needing to ask.

And then my shift finished.

I gave them a deeply grateful nod. “Thank you for training me, Alex,” I told them, and headed out to meet with the guard who’d be bringing me back to the monitoring center.

AN: I've been posting every three days and have found it to be a quite comfortable pace. So going forward that will be my goal.