Memory 2 ♡ Fairy Godfather In The House

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"Fine, you're hired. Whatever."

I didn't think it was going to be this easy.

After I returned to campus with my bag of fancy leftovers, I walked around looking at all the news boards and peering into the windows of all the stores I knew. I was particularly interested in clothing stores. It might even give me a stronger resume in the fashion world if I ever was in the front lines, fending off bad choices from clients who didn't understand their body types or complexions as well as I could. Alas, none of the ones nearby had any vacancies, and I wanted to work as close to the campus as possible because soon I wouldn't be able to afford moving my Beetle out of its parking spot.

The two places I could find that were actively looking for employees were the Magic Cafe and the school souvenir store, which was closed that day. The cafe opened 24/7 and it was one of the most popular hangout spots in campus. That had to translate to good tips, so I walked into the place, announced my interest in the vacant position to the guy who looked to be in charge, and was hired on the spot.

Still, I ran my big mouth by asking, "Are you sure you don't need to run my credentials or something?"

After all, I was going to be handling food and drinks.

He snorted, "You look clean, so that's good to me. I'm Matt, the first shift manager."

Matt extended a long, bony hand that I shook. "Um, Addy."

"Welcome to Magic Cafe, Um Addy."

I cringed at the disdain in his voice. If I had to describe Matt, I'd say he was a wannabe '90s grunge kid who was born in the wrong decade. Check on the long, unkempt hair that he mostly had tamed into a ponytail. Check the torn jeans, studded belt and shit-kicking boots. Check the tattoo sleeve that must have cost him a fortune that I spied from shoulder to wrist, thanks to the torn up sleeves on the purple t-shirt with white cursive displaying the name of the establishment.

I wondered if they had one my size.

"When can I start?" I asked him as he motioned me behind the counter.

He bent down and rummaged through some stuff until he pulled out a binder. After rifling through it he offered me a sheet of paper from it and a pen.

"Fill the application form and I'll get someone to get you trained. We need all hands on deck pronto."

I looked around us. The place was packed. I saw two servers on the floor, one dashing with a jar of water from one table to the next and the other one taking orders. The voices were as loud as the clanking utensils. There was a table close to the door with people who acted more like they were in a football stadium than at a place to get some lunch. From the corner of my eye I saw the jerky motion of someone stand up too quickly and toppled the jar of water from one of the server's hands, drenching someone else in the process.

Was I really about to do this?

And then I remembered my father's threat. Coming from him, it was actually a promise.

Sighing, I bent down and started jotting my details down the application form.

"We're getting killed out there," a waitress said as she came over.

Matt responded to her with, "Don't worry, more help is coming."

Me. He meant me.

Or so I thought, until I heard a familiar voice over the cacophony of noise say, "I'm back, bitches."

I looked up so fast I could've snapped my neck. Then I gasped.

"Ayrton?"

I thought my eyes were deceiving me, but no. That was indeed one of the most beautiful boys I'd ever met in my life, in the flesh. He turned heads at the same rate as his twin did, with the difference that Ayrton bloomed under the spotlight of such attentions. The other difference was that Ayrton had a completely different look from Ash's nowadays, with a whole lot of metal in his ears and hair up to his chin in a warmer chocolate color than his original near black.

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