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~Tuesday, 12:43 AM~

Paige looked around at her bar. Hers. Even after five years that thought never failed to spark feeling of pride that to this day had not diminished. She may not be a people person still (Hey, she wasn’t chucking random blunt items anymore), and she may have made a few enemies along the way (That over-priced designer was too snobby anyway, he didn’t deserve this spot), but she still had Next Day. Picking up a rag from the stash under the counter and a squirt bottle, she started to wipe down the bar in slow, smooth, practiced strokes.

The bell over the door chimed cheerfully, and Paige didn’t even look up. There were very few people that took advantage of the fact that Next Day was open 24/7 and the owner had a pretty damn good idea which one had just walked through the door.

Sure enough, not even a minute later, a grubby looking woman sat on the stool in front of Paige. Her wildly curly black hair was barely restrained in a ponytail, while those sparkling grey eyes told the owner/sometimes bartender that the woman had obviously had a good day at work.

“I am starving,” Jackie announced as she put her elbows on the counter then put her face in her hands. Since she was one of the few people Paige a) could hold an intelligent mechanical conversation with and b) actually liked, the owner merely snorted instead of the usual glare that anyone else would have gotten.

“Well, what do you want?” Paige asked shortly, raising an eyebrow. Jackie spent enough time here that she’d memorized the whole damn menu, so giving her one was a mistake only the newbie waitresses made.

“Hmm, I’ve been fantasizing about your rubens all day,” the mechanic replied, licking her lips.

“Pervert,” Paige said mildly. “You want soup?”

“Hmm, is today still Tuesday?” Jackie asked. She never wore a watch since she always managed to loose/break/completely destroy any she got. They never managed to tell time right either, for some odd reason.

“Not technically, but since the potato’s still in the pot, I’ll be nice,” Paige scribbled an order on a pad, ripped it off, and turned around to give it to the night cook. “Tai! Order.”

There was no verbal response, but the order slip vanished from Paige’s grip none the less. Turning back to her friend, the owner demanded, “Drink?”

“Can I assume there’s a pot of fresh coffee somewhere back there?” Jackie asked, amused. She was no more affected by the surly owner’s curt manner than a duck was of water.

Without answering, Paige grabbed the pot of coffee from a nearby brewer, a mug from underneath, poured Jackie a cup, then set it down in front of her. Before the other woman could respond, she also placed a dish of non-dairy creamers and the sugar caddy in front of her as well.

Jackie blinked for a moment before grinning. “Show off,” She commented idly as she fixed up the coffee (two creamers and five sugars). Paige merely shrugged and went back to cleaning the bar.

“How’s the search been going?” Jackie asked idly. She knew that Paige was looking for someone to provide live entertainment on the weekends, and that all of the previous tries had failed miserably.

“About as well as can be expected,” Paige answered flatly. “I’ve gotten 3 punk bands, 2 wannabe rockers, and a weirdo.”

“Huh, and here I was thinking you’d get more weirdos,” Jackie murmured, then shrugged when Paige glared. “In the mean time, I’m assuming your still trying to figure out what in the hell to do this week end?” At Paige’s reluctant nod, Jackie humphed. “Well, I’ll apply my fiendish mind to the matter and see what comes of it.” She ignored her friend rolling her eyes as a plate appeared on the counter behind the bar. Paige, noticing where Jackie’s eyes had gone, took the plate from the counter and set it in front of the clearly salivating woman.

“Thank you, twisted dieties that pity these poor mortals, for this feast that lay before my eyes, AMEN!” Jackie finished with a flourish as she attacked the soup.

Knowing there would be no sensible words from the woman until the entire meal had been demolished, Paige went back to cleaning the bar. Maybe she could ask Jackie about the idea she’d had last night...

***

~Wednesday 7:18 PM~

“I’VE GOT IT!!”

Paige turned to look at the door that Jackie had just unceremoniously thrown open. Thankfully no one had been standing near said door at the time so there were no resulting injuries, except maybe to the unfortunate wall that the door had been slammed into. As she made a mental note to call a repair man to fix that hole, Paige watched Jackie as she shoved her way through the dinner crowd to get to the table that the owner had situated herself at.

"I know it may be too much to ask," Paige said as Jackie plopped down in the booth next to her. "But could you please not destroy my bar?"

"What? Oh, the wall?" Jackie waved a dismissing hand. "Tis merely a flesh wound. Now, are you going to listen to my moment of brilliance or just tune me out as is your normal reaction?"

“As if I would dare to not,” Paige muttered, while Jackie rolled her eyes, both knowing full well that Paige would ignore her if she felt like it. “But make it quick.”

“Fine. Two words: Talent Show.”

Paige blinked at her friend for a moment. “Excuse me?”

“What, are you deaf?” Jackie demanded. “A talent show. It’s perfect. It gives the regulars something to do/watch, you can throw any possibilities in your musician search on the stage, and the prizes can be free food. It’s perfect.”

Paige opened her mouth to refute that statement (perfect, my butt...), but she stopped. Closing her mouth slowly, she got a very thoughtful look on her face. “You are right.”

“Now, I don’t care what you say- Wait, what?!” Jackie yelped, startled.

“You’re right. It is perfect,” Paige bared her teeth in something that only vaguely resembled a smile. “I’ll get Bianca on it tomorrow.”

***