Never Again by Michele Bardsley Page B

couldn’t quite meet his own gaze, not yet ready to face his shame.
    He exited the bathroom and returned to the front counter. Cathleen waited at the register, her impatience evident in her narrowed gaze and twitching fingers. Gray looked down at the small Styrofoam box and the greasy paper bag. He had no stomach for either the pie or the doughnuts.
    Cathleen tapped the keys on the old-fashioned register. Magic tended to suffocate sophisticated gadgets, so most folks didn’t bother with technological upgrades, at least not in towns protected by magicals. Gray pulled out his wallet and thumbed through the cash.
    “Five eleven,” said Cathleen. “I had Josie dip the doughnuts real quick, so they’re fresh.”
    Gray handed over the bills, and grimaced. That explained the grease on the bag. The doughnuts had probably been sitting around in the back for Goddess knew how long, and that was why she’d thrown them in the fryer.
    Cathleen carefully counted back his change, her expression morose, and then slammed the metal drawer shut. She still had enough respect for his position that she didn’t waddle over to her stool and pick up her magazine immediately.
    “When’s the last time your garbage got picked up?” asked Gray.
    She blinked at him, as if she couldn’t quite process the question. Her lips drooped into a limp frown. “What?”
    “Your Dumpsters are overflowing. It’s against city code to litter.”
    “I ain’t littering.”
    “Have you been in the alley lately?” asked Gray pleasantly. “Nevermore has garbage service twice a week. It doesn’t look like the café’s trash has been picked up in a long while.”
    Cathleen licked her lips nervously. Her gaze filled with uncertainty. “I can’t help it if my employees ain’t doing their jobs proper.”
    “Actually,” said Gray in the same pleasant tone, “you can. Because you’re the proprietor—that makes you responsible for the well-being of this property, your employees, and your customers.”
    “She canceled the garbage service.”
    A young man extracted himself from a counter stool and sauntered toward Gray. The boy was tall and thin, dressed in a red coverall. On the upper right side was a small gold dragon with “Nevermore Sanitation” stitched above it, and below it, the name “Trent.” His hair was short and spiky, the tips colored neon red. A flame tattoo crawled up his neck. Gray could see multiple holes in his ears, and realized the boy probably wore piercings when he wasn’t on the job.
    Trent stopped next to Gray, and leaned on the counter, his insolent brown gaze on Cathleen. “She called a couple months ago complaining about the service fees. She told the boss she wasn’t gonna pay for pickup anymore, so he told us to skip her on our route.”
    “Why wasn’t this brought to my attention?” asked Gray.
    Trent’s gaze flicked to his. “Why would it?” The question held puzzlement, not resentment. He tossed a tenspot onto the counter and saluted Cathleen.
    “You’re not welcome here no more!” she screeched. “I won’t serve you again, you half-breed bastard!”
    Trent grinned and wiggled his fingers at her. “I prefer Ember’s anyway. It smells too much like old bitch in here.” He left, the door slamming shut behind him, the bell over the doorway jingling loudly in the ensuing silence.
    The kid had balls. Gray liked him. He turned toward Cathleen, relishing her look of outrage.
    “Cathleen Munch, I find you in contempt of the city ordinance 3.125, proper disposal of refuse.” Gray was kinda surprised he remembered the actual ordinance. Maybe he wasn’t so out of practice, after all. “I order you to remove the garbage from the alley, and hereby give you verbal notice of inspection. As specified by our laws, you have forty-eight hours to prepare for the arrival of myself and my appointed inspectors. Until then, I’m closing the café.”
    Cathleen’s eyes went wide, her mouth flopping open. Then she started