Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

BILLIE

A s a night owl through and through, waking up with the sun was not my specialty. In fact, I loathed it, about as much as I loathed the light coming in through the split of my curtains. However, working in the kitchens meant I had to be up early to prepare breakfast for the tribe. I reluctantly shuffled out of bed and to the restroom. While Fyrifírar showered communally, we all had our own sink and toilet, for which I was eternally grateful. My hair was a chaotic mess. I was one of the only human girls that showed up with curly hair. And we weren't talking cute beach waves, either. My hair was a riot of unmanageable ringlets, used to being treated with extra attention to get it to cooperate. Now I was on an orkin planet that had never heard of conditioner. I was still working on different options with some of the other women with curly hair, but we hadn't found anything quite right.

I dressed quickly and headed to the kitchens. I showed up just as the other cooks arrived and started on breakfast straightaway. I had become the person in charge of the gautr, a porridge that was a staple of their diet and a cross between grits and oatmeal. I wasn't a fan, but it was easy enough to make because each orc, or human, decided what kind of toppings they wanted to add. It was the sheer volume of it that we had to make that made it difficult. Even as one of the stronger girls, I couldn't lift a pot full of it. And we made four pots every morning. It hardly made my mornings cheerier.

But would working late nights in a bar be all that much better? I wasn't fulfilled working in the kitchens, I knew that. Feeding people and interacting with them while bartending was something I missed. I could come up with something better. But did I really even want a bar? I knew I wasn't fulfilled working here in the kitchens. I liked feeding people, sure. But I missed the interaction bartending provided me. I missed pouring the perfect drink or surprising someone with a new cocktail I'd come up with. I missed the stories and the secrets that were shared with me. People would tell bartenders anything and I was a rapt audience. I couldn't spend the rest of my life in the kitchen dicing potatoes—I wanted to live and be out amongst the rest of the tribe. I was bored as hell.

"Hey there!" said Joey from right over my shoulder. I jumped, dropping the knife and potato to the ground. "Uh sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Sorry, sorry, my fault. I was lost in thought." I bent to pick up the knife and potato and took them to the sink to rinse off.

Joey followed me. "These thoughts wouldn't have anything to do with Billie's Bar , would they?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows at me.

I rolled my eyes as I rinsed off the potato and knife. The whole idea of reopening the bar had been an idea for less than a week and now everyone was referring to it as Billie's Bar . At this point, even if I did come up with an awesome name for my bar, everyone would call it Billie's Bar. I hadn't even talked to Runa about it yet. Without her blessing, I didn't want to open any place that served drink— and hopefully some food.

"Maybe I was thinking about Billie's Bar ." I said, emphasizing the name with another eye roll. "What of it?"

"So you might actually do it?" Joey squealed.

"You know, you are awfully excitable this morning."

"Hey, one of my best friends is finally taking a step toward doing something that makes her happy. That is reason enough to squeal," she said sternly.

"Is it that obvious that I don't love the kitchen?" I whispered, not wanting any of the other workers to hear. It was a valuable job, and I didn't want them to feel like I disliked their company or that I was demeaning their efforts. It just wasn't for me.

"Not to anyone who doesn't know you," she assured me. "But I see that wistful look you have on your face when you're chopping your twentieth onion for the day and know being a line cook isn't what you want."

"No, no, it isn't. And I don't think I want to take over the kitchen one day either, like someone we both know," I responded, pointing at Ottar, who had his back to us at another counter. Joey blushed to her roots. "Care to tell me what is going on there? Do I need to look at your back for marks?"

Joey covered her face in her hands, "Shhh," she hissed.

"Oh, is there something you don't want anyone to know about?" I asked raising my voice purposefully.

"Shut up, shut up," she elbowed me in the ribs.

"So you haven't imagined being his sous chef, bent over one of the counters while he?—"

"Jesus Christ, Billie!" she whisper-shouted as she clapped her tiny hand over my mouth. Joey was petite, even shorter than me. Which was saying something. But she was freakishly strong. I felt as if she'd knocked some of my teeth loose.

"Alright, alright. Fine. But I want to be the first to know when the nothing becomes something."

Joey punched me squarely in the shoulder.

"Hey, you know I bruise like a peach!" I exclaimed, rubbing my arm. "I'll keep it to myself for now. But the minute?—"

"The minute what?" A deep voice came from behind us.

We both turned to see Ottar standing there, quietly towering over us.

"The minute, uh, the minute…" Joey stammered, face drained of color.

"The minute Runa gets here, I want to ask her some questions about the abandoned bar," I spat out quickly, saving Joey from embarrassment.

"Hmm." Ottar looked out the window at the sun climbing above the trees. "She should be here soon. I will let her know that you wished to speak with her." He opened his mouth, then closed it as if he had been about to say something else to Joey, then thought better of it and walked off with a promptness that was unusual for him back to his workstation. Halfway there, he noticed he'd grabbed the wrong stack of trays and had to swap them out.

As soon as she was out of earshot, he hissed, "See! This is why we can't discuss my stupid crush in the kitchen. Save that gossip for our next gab fest at Piper's."

"Um, how about thank you? In covering your ass, I just told Ottar that I have my eye on the abandoned bar. What if Runa is offended or feels I am stepping on her territory? What if Ottar feels that way?"

"Runa will not feel that way. She is exhausted. Everyone can tell she's ready to retire and spend her days at home with her mate and her grandkids. She's just waiting for Ottar to say he's ready."

I had to acknowledge that Joey's statement was true. Runa seemed frailer and frailer as the days went by. If Ottar didn't step up soon Runa was going to keel over in the middle of cooking soup one day. Joey and I went back to our tasks in silence.

I had no idea where Joey's head was, but mine was whirring about a conversation I wasn't quite ready to have with Runa. Not only was I afraid she would think I was encroaching on her job, but I was also worried she would think I wasn't grateful for all the guidance and support she had given me and the other kitchen women as we settled into our new home.

When Runa arrived, I was finally done chopping all of the potatoes and carrots for the stew. They weren't identical in size by any means, I was horrible at dicing things, but I got it done.

Gah. I slowly walked to her, twirling one of the loose curls at the nape of my neck—a nervous habit that I had never been able to rid myself of. I approached Runa and she gave me a kind, weathered smile. Even as a frail, elderly orc, she was at least five inches taller than me, requiring me to tilt my head up to look her in the eye.

"Hello, dear," she said, pulling me into a hug. Runa really did love me, which made this conversation even harder.

"Hi, Runa," I said quietly as she patted me on the head like a toddler. "Can we talk somewhere for a minute?"

"Of course, dear. Let's go to my office."

Runa had a tiny room off the side of the kitchen where she kept track of all the food that came into and went out of the kitchen. Without her careful attention to detail, we'd probably run out of food during winter. She took off her cloak and sat down at her desk.

"What did you want to talk about, Billie?" She asked while organizing the ledgers she had heaped in front of her.

"Well, I don't know if you remember what my job was back on Earth, but I was a bartender," I said, sounding hesitant.

"I do remember. You said you loved it most of the time. but you wouldn't miss… what did you call them… lousy tipsters?" She tilted her head.

I struggled to stifle a laugh, "Lousy tippers. Most servers and bar staff depend on tips to earn a living wage where I'm from. If people don't tip, it makes it hard to pay the bills."

"Ah, right, right."

Picking up my train of thought, I continued "Well, Agnarr told me that there used to be a bar here in Fyrifírar, and I wanted to find out more about it."

To my great surprise, Runa started to look misty-eyed "Já, we did have a bar. It was a very lively and welcoming place. I worked there before it shut down. I was so sad to see it go."

"Why didn't you stay on? Run it yourself? You manage this kitchen and feed the entire tribe without breaking a sweat. You could have handled a bar!" Runa seemed completely capable of handling drunken orkin.

"This was árs ago. I was barely of age. I didn't know anything beyond don't spill the drinks on the customers . I wasn't ready. I would have, had I been, but I was just too young." She laughed, wiping her eyes.

"And no one wanted to take it over?" I was still confused.

"It was a turbulent time. Ulf had just died. Astrid had only been jarlin for a few árs. She was young to be stepping into the role of jarlin on her own, all while grieving her mate. Some of the elders thought they should rule in her place as a committee until she was older. It wasn't the time to add me, a brand-new barkeep, into an already tense situation."

Runa seemed truly sad about the bar's loss, which I didn't expect. If there was a good time to discuss reopening it, it was now.

"Do you think the tribe would be ready to reopen the bar?" I asked hesitantly.

Runa looked at me shrewdly. "Do you think you have what it takes to manage a hall full of drunken orkin and humans?"

"I absolutely do. I'll definitely be hiring bouncers, depending on how seriously orkin take their drinking, but I don't anticipate that being a problem. I have cut off men twice my size."

"And you know how to make drinks?" she asked.

"I know how to mix a drink. I would have to learn how to brew liquor. Given that we have had it at our celebrations, is it safe to assume there is an orc that still remembers?"

"And who do you think that might be?" she asked me, grinning, chin resting in her palms.

"Is it you?" I squeaked in excitement. I was trying to keep it cool, but Runa seemed very pleased with this turn of events.

"Já, it's me. And, considering that it's drawing close to my time to retire from the kitchens, it is also time to pass this along. I would happily teach you."

"Really? You wouldn't feel like I was encroaching on your territory or hurting the kitchen?"

"Really. With Agnarr and Piper settled in and the tribe prospering, I think we are in a good place to reopen the bar. I don't expect you to run the kitchens; Ottar has been training for that for years, but serving appetizers or handpies at the bar? That seems incredibly reasonable."

I bit my lip—hard—to stop the tumult of questions I had. What was just a wisp of a dream was becoming very real.

"My one caution," Runa paused. "One thing I have noticed with young people is that they are always in a rush. And before you go telling me you are well above age, I am seventy-three árs. Listen to a wise old orc. If you want this to be good, take your time . Don't rush it just because you want it to happen. Let it marinate if you want to see your vision come to life. Think about what you really want out of this."

"Of course, of course," I responded much too quickly, causing Runa to cock a brow at me. I took a deep breath. "Yes, I want to talk to all of the orkin, specifically the elders, who would need to be involved, to make this happen."

"Well, then, it is settled. Get back to chopping. Let your mind wander and consider your path forward."

I couldn't believe Runa was on board, let alone that she wanted to help. "Can I hug you?"

We both stood, and I pulled Runa into a crushing embrace. Her body was a lot smaller than I'd imagined it would be, bonier, like if I squeezed too hard I'd break her. She had worked so long and so hard for the tribe, all those years of pre-dawn porridges and carefully prepared meals. Now it was time for us to take care of her.