“Of course not. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I minded.” Parin gestured at me. “Got your phone?”
I fumbled to pull it out of my apron pocket and hurriedly swiped to the front-facing camera.
Parin held out her hand for it. “I’ve got longer arms.”
Laughing, I passed the phone over and leaned across the bar as far as I could, going right up on my tiptoes to get closer to her. She leaned in until her hair almost brushed mine—she even smelled all fancy and expensive—and snapped a few shots of us smiling at the camera. Parin was all cool elegance, her lips tilted into a practised smile, whereas I was beaming like a loon, my cheeks mottled pink and stray curls sticking up wildly from my long day at work.
“Thank you so much,” I gushed again as she passed my phone back to me. “This is amazing. Greid will love it.”
She waved a hand and picked her wine glass back up. “Like I said, if he wants to meet me, I’ll be back here tomorrow evening.”
“Okay.” I glanced back to make sure no one was looking, then sneakily topped her glass up with a splash more wine. “I’ll leave you to your evening now. It was so nice meeting you.”
“And you, darling.” Parin suddenly seemed distracted, and I realised why when I followed her gaze over to the door and saw a tall, older demiurgus stepping into the bar. She had short hair with a few grey streaks in it, a nose ring and a leather jacket covered in patches.
When she saw Parin, her angular face softened into a wry smile, but her yellow eyes held a hint of sadness. Parin stood abruptly from her seat, her calm, refined air vanishing as she swallowed.
I backed away quickly to give them their privacy, turning and almost bumping straight into Gavin. “Oops, sorry.”
“No worries.”
He followed me as I made my way down the bar, heading for a waiting customer before I realised Ron was already serving them.
“Who’s that?” Gavin whispered. “Is she famous?”
“Yeah, I recognise her too,” Mani piped up, having appeared from the back office. She glanced over from the register, peering above mine and Gavin’s heads—which wasn’t hard for any demiurgus—to look at Parin.
“She’s in the show Our Neighbours the Humans,” I told them both. “You know, about the demiurgus family who moves in next door to some humans.”
“Oh shit, that’s right.” Mani chuckled. “My mom watches that. You’re a fan?”
“Yeah, I love it,” I said enthusiastically.
Gavin laughed, giving me a friendly nudge on the shoulder. “You’re funny, Beryl. You use a demiurgus phone and watch demiurgus shows. You’re not a deepchaser, are you?” he asked teasingly.
My smile grew a little strained. “What’s that?”
“Come on, surely you’ve heard that term before. Humans who are weirdly obsessed with demiurgus—Deep Earthers. They’re called deepchasers.” He shot me a wry grin, seemingly unaware of how tense I’d grown. “Humans who chase after demiurgus like groupies. You know, like those freaks who live at the top of that hill just outside the city.”
“Gavin.” Mani’s voice was harder than normal. “Can you go check the kegs in the basement? I think one of the taps is running dry.”
He gave an easy shrug. “Sure.”
I swallowed once, then again as I watched him amble off, trying to find my voice. My skin was prickling with intense heat, and I was agonisingly aware of Mani’s gaze on me but I couldn’t get my feet to move. My pulse picked up, heart pounding as sickly sweat beaded on my hairline.
Does she know? Oh god, what if she knows and tells everyone—
“Gavin thinks his opinions are extremely important,” she told me dryly, then nodded at something behind me. “Customer waiting.”
I licked my dry lips and croaked, “Okay.”
“Ignore him,” she added, giving my shoulder a brief squeeze. “Liking demiurgus culture—or liking demiurgus themselves—doesn’t make you anything, Beryl. You can enjoy whatever the fuck you want to.”
“Okay,” I repeated hoarsely, but I still felt sick. “Thanks.”
Gavin didn’t bring it up again when he got back upstairs, but I felt tense and anxious for the rest of my shift. I couldn’t stop wondering if that was what people thought—that I was a deepchaser. That I had an obsession with demiurgus. It made it hard to be cheerful and friendly with customers, and a part of me hated that a few choice words from a guy I’d only known a short time could get in my head and stick.
I noticed Mani glancing at me a few times over the course of the night, which made me even more anxious. I started panicking that she was going to reprimand me for being quieter than normal, not making as much chitchat with customers. I couldn’t lose this job. I couldn’t. There was no way in hell I’d get this lucky again. A few weeks of bartending experience under my belt was not enough to let me land a similar job if I got fired from this one.
I knew my thoughts were spiralling, but the sharp about-turn in my emotions from feeling so elated to meet Parin var Gelligar to this was jarring and horribly uncomfortable. It made the bar feel too loud and busy. It made me self-conscious about what all the demiurgus I served thought of me.
For the first time, I wasn’t enjoying work. I wanted to go home. I wanted Greid. He made me feel safe. From the very first moment we met, he’d never made me feel judged.
Thinking about him chased away some of the anxiety as I stood at the back bar pouring a line of shots. Fuck anyone who judged me and my relationship with Greid just because he was a demiurgus and I was a human. Fuck Gavin for trying to embarrass me for liking a damn TV show and using a freaking phone that was different to his. He should be embarrassed for being so narrow-minded. Not me.
The thing was, I knew he hadn’t even meant it to be a jab. He’d just been teasing. And if he’d said it to literally anyone else, the words wouldn’t have cut so deeply. He seemed completely unaware of my mood as he worked, cracking a joke with me while he grabbed two beer bottles from the fridge. I managed a brittle smile back, and I tried to tell myself not to hold it against him. I was pretty sure even I’d called us cult members freaks when I met Greid. I already knew everyone thought it.
But this had been a terrifying reminder that my past was right there, always lurking, a hairsbreadth away from being discovered. From tangling with my new life. I couldn’t escape it. I couldn’t erase it. It was always going to be there, and logically I knew that it would always, always play a part in my future. In how I dealt with unfamiliar situations and new experiences. In how much I opened up to others. In how I found and kept future jobs.
Helpless, bitter anger rose, and I wasn’t even sure who it was directed at. Gavin, for what he’d said? My dad, for leaving me at that compound? Violet, for raising me there? Myself, for staying for years after I could’ve left, just because it was a fairly easy and comfortable life, and I’d been so smug that I was duping everyone around me?
By the time 1 a.m. was approaching—the end of my shift—and the bar began to quieten down a little, I was in a foul mood. My brow felt permanently furrowed, no matter how hard I tried to smooth it out while serving customers. I didn’t join in with the idle chitchat among the staff, except for a brief smile and a nod when Ron asked me if I was alright, his expression concerned.