Edgewise

2

"Hells' Bells, I'm so late!"

Calponia Anders hustled down the sidewalk as fast as her uneven gait would allow. One broken shoe was tucked under her arm, the two inch heel snapped clean off. Served her right for trying to wear heels to begin with, but today had been an important meeting. Hence why the laundry room in her apartment building flooded, requiring her to dip into her meager funds for the smartest looking outfit she could find at the local thrift shop. Her hair dryer gave up the ghost as well, but not before setting her shower curtain on fire, meaning she arrived at court with a frizzy bush of hair, slightly frayed clothes, and one broken shoe.

And now she was late for her shift.

She pounded up the rickety steps of her apartment building, remembering in the nick of time not to put her foot through the third step from the top. Calponia was panting and sweaty by the time she reached her front door only to be brought up short by the glaring white paper stuck to her door. She stared at it, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. She swallowed it down, leaving it where it was as she tried her keys in the door.

That son of a bitch landlord had already changed her locks, leaving her soggy ball of laundry in her tub and the sharpied "door" to her job out of her reach. Calponia leaned against her door frame, staring at the Eviction Notice, pondering if Mack would give her a pass despite this only being her first week on the job.

It was the longest she'd held a job in years.

She was trying to piece together a decent excuse when Mr. Henderson's door opened. The old curmudgeon took in the state of her clothes and hair, shaking his head.

"You'll do awful business looking like a drag queen who lost a cat fight," he said, tapping his cane on the floor for emphasis. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. The old man held firm to the belief Calponia was a "lady of the night" no matter what she told him and evidence to the contrary. Honestly, if she was a high class hooker she would be living in a much better digs than this.

"Mr. Henderson do you happen to have a marker or piece of chalk I could borrow?"

"Need to leave a number for your Johns to reach you, eh?" He winked conspiratorially at her and hobbled back into his apartment which smelled strongly of burnt toast and cat piss. Calponia stood in the doorway, determined not to touch anything. Mr. Henderson made his wobbly way back to her, handing her an unopened package of sharpies.

"Good luck with your business, dear," he said, slamming the door in her face.

"Thank you," she called, pausing a moment before adding. "I'm not a hooker, I'm a tavern wench."

"More cleavage will get you tips," came the muffled reply.

Calponia sighed, tearing open the package. Since the jerk landlord already barred her from her own place she had no qualms drawing a fresh door right there in the hallway. She finished, adding a smiley face "door knocker" to spite him, and knocked three times.

She stood back and waited, clutching the package of sharpies. What if the change of venue confused things? What if was too public? She was close to panicking when the familiar crack of light formed along the outline of her sketched door. A whiff of whiskey teased her nostrils as the wall swung open with a soft creak, revealing the warmly lit recesses of the Edgewise Tavern.

Calponia rushed through the entrance, the back swing of the door blowing her frizzy hair over her shoulders. It was still early enough tavern side for only a handful of customers, including the staunch regulars. She held her head high, limping toward the bar still holding the pack of sharpies and one shoe. What little conversation there was paused as she reached her destination. The back of her neck grew hot from the eyes watching her. One pair of eyes in particular made her blush even worse.

She rounded on the pale figure of Eugene, glaring hard at his appraising glance.

"Care to comment, vampire?" Calponia slapped the markers on the bar, trying to look at dignified as possible. The man's lips twitched but thankfully he refrained from speaking, choosing instead to reach between them and pluck a piece of litter from her tangled hair.

"You look like you got into a fight with a street sweeper and lost," came a familiar voice from behind her. Calponia's shoulders slumped. She ducked her head down and turned to the brawny crossed arms of her boss.

"I'm sorry I'm late," she mumbled, biting down on the urge to add please don't fire me. Mack did not strike her as the pitying type, though hiring her in the first place was a pretty charitable act.

He didn't say anything for a moment. She shrank down further into herself.

"There should be a spare kit in the back, nothing much, just a comb and toothbrush. Why don't you get cleaned up and I'll see if I have any spare clothes upstairs?" Calponia startled at Mack's gruff but soft tone, bobbing her head as she scurried into the back room. She heard Mack's bewildered voice as she turned out of sight, the words causing her to cringe.

"Looks like the bête noir is having a go at her today."

Calponia slumped on the bench in the back room, out of sight from everyone, and finally allowed herself to bury her face in her hands for a short furious cry fest.

Until a week ago, she thought her life was one long string of bad luck. As if someone tweaked her karmic meter to constantly sit on the negative side. Her bad luck had escalated as she aged, a plague of mishaps that followed her, slowly destroying her life. In the past five years, an unknown computer glitch erased her high school records, the IRS insisted on two different audits, no job kept her on longer than a few days, firing her after some accident, she lost her car, fried three computers, lost six phones, and now she had finally lost her home. She literally had the clothes on her back and a broken shoe to her name.

A week ago, the day Mack hired her to work at the Edgewise Tavern, Calponia learned many things. The most important was her constant misfortune had nothing to do with luck and everything to do with a curse. An actual curse Mack labeled the bête noir. It was nice to have a name she could rail against.

Despite her cursed personage, he still offered her the job, mostly because the tavern approved of her. That was the other nugget of knowledge she found interesting.

The Edgewise tavern was a sentient entity.

The scent of whiskey settled on her like a warm blanket. Calponia froze as she felt an unseen presence tease her hair, a gentle tugging that made her scalp tingle. She stopped sobbing, sniffling against her palms as she waited out the odd sensation.

She chanced a glance up into the small square mirror Mack kept in the back, staring at her tear stained reflection. The presence had smoothed the frizz and puff of her hair into glossy black waves. Calponia managed a trembling smile.

"Thank you," she whispered. She didn't know how she felt about the Edgewise's unusual sentience but the Tavern had been nothing but kind and helpful to her since she first stepped foot inside. She'd take any ally she could get these days. Cesario's words on her first day were a reminder of how badly she needed them.

It's a miracle you survived this long.

Calponia wiped her face, shoving her moment of self pity down deep behind her every day mask. It was time to get to work.