Super Powereds: Year 3 by Drew Hayes

the bar, “you want to be a shot girl!”
     

15.
     
    Brenda, the general manager of Supper with Supers, could be faulted on many fronts, but lack of enthusiasm was not one of them. She’d greeted Vince, Mary, and Camille at the door, and immediately pulled all of them into her office, either ignoring or not hearing Camille’s protests that she would wait outside.
    “As you can see, we have licensing arrangements to allow our employees to wear the costumes of many famous Heroes,” Brenda said, gesturing to the wall lined with staff photos, all of them in some sort of costume. “However, for the most part, our staff wear generic ones, designs we have ample stock of. It makes accommodating different sizes much easier. For those who have been here more than six months, we allow them to design their own outfit and name, if they want to be unique. Of course, we retain all rights to those designs, so not many of our HCP workers take us up on that opportunity.”
    “So, it’s just a restaurant where people wear costumes?” Vince asked.
    “It is a theme, dear boy. We transport the customers to a world of high-paced action, where capes and costumes are everyday occurrences. The point is to submerge them in the culture, to turn a simple meal into a memorable experience.”
    “It seems lovely,” Mary said, defaulting to politeness, since she had no idea what else to say.
    “Thank you very much. I’m quite proud of it, and we have a great reputation for fun and delicious food. Now, I’ve got two openings for wait staff,” Brenda said, checking her folder. “And I can squeeze one of you in as a host.”
    Camille debated speaking up once more; however, by now, it seemed obvious her protests were not making any dents in Brenda’s enthusiasm. Plus, if she were honest with herself, the idea of working with Vince wasn’t totally unappealing to her.
    “The waiting jobs require more social interaction. You have to chat with the table, remember orders, that sort of thing. Host duty will revolve around charting the wait times and making sure to seat customers in a rotation that lets the waiters serve them best.”
    “I think Vince and I should be the wait staff,” Mary suggested. Camille threw her fellow small-statured girl a glance and received a not-too-sly wink in response. There were definite benefits to having a friend who was a telepath. “Knowing Camille’s sense of organization and sweet demeanor, I think she would excel at the hosting position.”
    “She does seem downright adorable,” Brenda agreed. “Any objections to that, Camille? Don’t worry, you still get to wear one of our amazing costumes!”
    “Sounds . . . great,” Camille said weakly. She was immediately beginning to regret going along with this; however, if it had been hard to back out before, then doing it now was well beyond the realm of impossibility.
    “Fantastic. Now, that leaves you two as servers. The training process is a little more arduous for those positions, but I’ve never had an HCP student who couldn’t hack it. Running food and pre-bussing is much less stressful than fighting or robot battle or whatever it is you folks do in there.”
    “I did have a question, ma’am,” Vince said, raising his hand tentatively.
    “Go right ahead.” Brenda gave him a warm smile of reassurance when she spoke, the type that can only be conjured by master politicians and the truly sincere.
    “I get that the costumes will let us blend in somewhat, but how does that help with things like my hair or Mary’s eyes?”
    “A very fair question,” Brenda replied. “The answer is two-fold, actually. For one thing, many of our wait staff like to employ the sort of look you two have naturally. This is one of the few establishments in town where bright green, spiky hair and makeup that looks like a salamander make you more likely to get a job, rather than less. The other aspect is that, for those employees who don’t favor such affectation in their