Shifted by Lily Cahill Page A

smile was rictus tight. “What do you think you’re doing, young lady?”
    “I’m sorry, sir. I just needed a glass of water.”
    “You know the rules,” he hissed. “Where is your tray?”
    “Just over here, sir,” she said, pushing through the curious crowd near the bar and slipping the heavy tray back over her shoulders. 
    “You are supposed to be carrying the tray at all times,” he reminded her, still trying to smile at customers even as he upbraided her.
    “I know, sir, but it was heavy, and—”
    “No excuses, young lady. And what’s this? You’ve barely sold a thing! What have you been doing all night?”
    “Trying to listen in on conversations,” she said before she could stop herself. It seemed like the truth just jumped to her lips when she was stressed, when she didn’t have time to craft a reply. 
    She didn’t think it was possible, but Mr. McPherson’s face deepened from red to purple. “And let me ask you, am I paying you to listen in on conversations?”
    She bit her lip. “No, sir.” She barely restrained herself from telling him she did it a lot anyway.
    “No, I’m paying you to make sure my patrons are satisfied,” he said, struggling to keep his voice low. “Now either half this town quit smoking in the last week, or you aren’t doing your job.”
    Briar looked at the haze of smoke covering the room. “Well, sir … people can light their own cigarettes, can’t they?”
    “That’s it!” he shouted. People turned to stare, but Mr. McPherson had finally lost his legendary control. “You’re fired!”
    “Oh,” Briar said, and let out a small laugh. “Thank goodness.”
    “What did you say?”
    “I hated working here,” she said, not even trying to hold back the truth. 
    “Well, then you can get out,” Mr. McPherson said, nostrils flared.
    Briar looked around. Half the room was staring now. Mickey Dorsey was still valiantly singing, but most of the couples had stopped to watch the unfolding drama. 
    Well, let them see. She was done pretending to be someone else, lying about the way her life unfolded. 
    “Gladly,” she said, shifting the tray off her shoulders. Even though she felt embarrassed and ashamed, she held her head high as she walked out.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
    Charlie
     
    Charlie left Will’s house and took a wandering drive through the hills. 
    It was a gorgeous late-summer day. The trees were full and the grasses were high. Despite the perfect weather, Charlie didn’t feel the urge to transform. His conversation with Will had left him mixed up, and he needed time to think.
    Will’s implication had been clear. He suspected Charlie had a power, but was encouraging him not to reveal anything. Charlie had been so close to confessing everything to Will. He hadn’t realized until that moment how much he wanted to talk to someone about his power.
    He drove through the hills as the sun set around him. There was someone else he could talk to. Someone who already knew the truth.
    He told himself, as he drove out to McPherson’s Supper Club, that he wanted to see Briar because he needed to make sure she wasn’t going to tell anyone. She’d stubbornly refused to promise secrecy on the night of the rockslide. He wasn’t sure he was going to take Will’s advice, but he needed to make sure Briar wouldn’t tell someone and make the choice for him. 
    It wasn’t like he wanted to see her again.
    Besides, he didn’t have anything else to do. If he went home, his mother would find some sort of chore for him. She was on a campaign to teach him “some real life skills,” as she put it. Charlie had to admit, he’d had no idea what it took to keep a household fed and clean and clothed. He’d discovered that his mother worked like an ox, and expected him to do no less. 
    No, it was better to stay away from home for a while. Instead, he drove into the parking lot at McPherson’s. He couldn’t go inside; his flannel shirt and dungarees