Page 63 of The Blue Moon Café & 24-Hour Occult Emporium

Talula laughed and kept laughing as Dahlia watched her in fond confusion. She managed to stop after Simon got up and stomped off to the other side of the café, ears flat against his head.

“Sorry,” Talula said, and wiped her streaming eyes. “Sorry, he’s just, ah, Simon. Are you writing today?”

“You know it. I’m sweet-potatoing the fuck out of this story idea.”

“Amazing. Does quiche sound like good writing fuel?” Talula ventured with a wry smile.

“I swear to god, Talula,” Dahlia said, placing a hand on her forehead like a swooning Southern belle. “One day I’m going to just marry the absolute shit out of you.”

I wouldn’t stop you, she wanted to say. But instead, Talula just shook her head with a chuckle, got up, and headed for the quiche. She set a plate at Dahlia’s new place by the counter. After Dahlia had taken a few bites and proclaimed the quiche “orgasmic,” Talula plated another slice. She walked over to a still-sulking Simon and set it down next to his front paw with a whisper: “Sorry for laughing.”

“No need to apologize,” he muttered back, quiet enough so only Talula could hear him. “I realize I haven’t been cultivating a very emotionally supportive learning environment. Perhaps I will undergo that training.”

“I’m not sure that’s necessary.”

Simon looked up at Talula with deep black eyes. “I’d do it if it helped you.”

Touched, Talula lay a hand on Simon’s head. “We can all learn new skills. Plus, training together might be nice.”

“Hrmph,” Simon said thoughtfully. Talula walked back to the counter smiling.

When Dahlia had gobbled her quiche and opened up her laptop, she turned to Talula. “I’m going to try that writing sprint again. Can I have cocoa as a reward?”

You can have anything you want forever! Talula thought, but instead she said, “Absolutely.”

Talula set the timer, watched Dahlia bend her head to work, and nipped to the Voltlette. She only had thirty minutes, after all.

Talula’s timer chirped just as she set down a mug of extra chocolaty cocoa and a plate of treats next to Dahlia’s laptop.

Dahlia gaped. “Churros? You beautiful angel, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I had some stashed in the freezer and added a bit of spice to the double-chocolate cocoa.” Talula smiled with a shrug. “Noosh-eh joon!”

Dahlia took a sip. “It’s got a little more zing to it, for sure. Did you put chili powder in this? And cinnamon?”

“I recently learned you like spicy things.” Talula blushed.

“I do love when you spice things up.” Dahlia grinned over her mug. “What do I get if I do another writing sprint?”

“Um…a star cut out of receipt paper?”

“Fuck yeah.”

Talula restarted the timer.

About ten minutes later, the bell chimed above the door, followed by a sarcastic, saccharine soprano. “Can I speak to your manager?”

Kristen stood in the café entrance, blond hair perfectly tousled, white cashmere sweater sinisterly pristine, smirk gleaming with menace and lip gloss. Talula felt her muscles tense, her breaths suddenly shallow and uneasy. Dahlia quickly looked at Kristen, then back to Talula, her eyebrows quirked in a question. In answer, Talula forced a smile and tapped her watch. Dahlia bent her head back to her laptop.

Talula knew that Kristen had gotten under her skin when they had run into each other a few nights ago. But this time, Talula would put on her most unflappable face and get her ex out as soon as possible. “Unless you’re here for coffee or occult stuff, I think you should leave.”

Dahlia’s gaze jerked up, eyes wide at Talula’s tone.

“I’d rather drink bleach, thanks,” Kristen said sweetly. She sidled over to the café counter. “I thought I’d tell you the good news.”

“That you’re moving?” Talula asked, just as sweetly.

“Not quite.” Kristen smirked. She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and slapped it on the counter.