Read Online Last Call at the Nightshade Lounge by Paul Krueger - Free Book Online Page B

juxtaposition,” she said.
    “Zee!” From behind the diner counter, an aproned barista gave the table a wave. He was stockier than Zane, wore chunkier glasses, and sported a black apron folded to reveal a T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of a busty anime girl with bright blue hair.
    Bailey froze. The barista’s eyes lit up.
    “And Tokyo Rose!” he continued. “
Ohayou gozaimasu
, Bailey-chan!”
    Then he bowed, because
of course
he did.
    “Trent Fierro,” she said in a voice frigid enough to freeze the hottest latte. “You know I’m still not Japanese, right?”
    “Oh, right,” said Trent. “
Gomennasai
.” And he bowed again.
    Zane spoke before she could jump behind the counter and tear out Trent’s stupid neck beard, hair by hair. “Why don’t you showcase your espresso skills and whip us up a round of Americanos?”
    Trent’s grin could’ve curdled macchiato foam. “For Zee and friends? On the house. That means you, too, Tokyo Rose.”
    “What’s up with you and Trent?” Bucket said. His mohawk had wilted into a green curtain that covered one side of his face.
    Bailey didn’t even bother answering him. “You brought me to get coffee from my stalker?” she whispered furiously to Zane.
    “He didn’t stalk you,” Zane said. “He just, uh, followed you everywhere.” He frowned. “Okay, point taken.”
    “Loving the Bailey-Zane banter, guys,” said Bucket. “Not thathelpful, though.”
    “Trent’s really into anime and manga,” Zane said. “But hey, everyone needs a hobby, right?” He grinned at Bailey, who didn’t return the smile. Instead, she turned to Bucket.
    “Sophomore year Trent decided that
I
was the school’s other resident expert in Japanese culture and the only one who, like, understood him. Which—two problems: I’m a born-and-raised American. Also, Chinese.”
    “Ah,” Bucket said, wrinkling his pierced nose. “Ew.”
    “I’ve never even been to Tokyo,” Bailey muttered. “And roses are the fast food of flowers.” Her dad had taught her that lesson early on, and it had stuck.
    Zane laughed. “Well, I’ll keep that in mind next Valentine’s Day.”
    “I—” Bailey’s mind skidded briefly off track as Mona’s piercing gaze fell on her. She squirmed under its intensity. “Um, anyway, let’s never speak of it again,” she said.
    “I dunno,” Bucket said. “There’s some pretty excellent Canadian Japanese glam rock if you’re into that kind of thing, eh?”
    A waitress appeared. “Hi, Zane,” she said before nodding to Bailey. “Who’s the new girl?”
    It took Bailey a moment to realize that she, not Mona, was the newcomer. Which—
seriously?
She’d been coming to this diner since she was fourteen years old. Then again, this waitress, with her earnestly lined eyes and her not quite even eyebrows, probably was fourteen. Now there was a grim thought. Bailey sat back, contemplating her mortality.
    Zane remained cheerfully oblivious to her existential horror. “The new girl’s an old friend,” he said. “This is Bailey. Bailey, this is Diana. She’s our regular waitress. Yours, too, now.”
    Diana peered at Bailey, looking somehow both bored and inquisitive. Bailey, for her part, felt unsure and intrusive, as if she’dbeen brought to someone else’s church and didn’t know when to stand, sit, or kneel. The other Alechemists gave their food orders, and it was only after the silence continued that Bailey realized it was her turn.
    “Um, pancakes,” she said. “Please.”
    “All righty.” Diana clicked her pen. “Coffees are coming right up.”
    “Thanks.”
    Bailey wasn’t really jonesing for a caffeine fix, but she also didn’t want to be the only person not having any. Diana went on her way, and Bailey leaned in before more chitchat could take over. “So, I take it you two, um, survived tonight.”
    “No,” said Mona, deadpan. Zane and Bucket laughed as Bailey flushed.
    “They’re both healthy and whole,” said Zane. “And