Whoops, I lied. Beth is 22. It's 2014. I'll go fix it. Stupid legal drinking age.

-3-

Present Day

Bethany

I must've had something on my face because my new boss wouldn't stop staring at me and it was getting weird.

Elijah sat at the bar that wrapped around the corner near the espresso machines. He was doing some kind of paperwork while Marge came in and out - handing him things and explaining the bistro's day to day operations.

I've always had a sense when I was being watched. A prickle of awareness. The, admittedly pretty, rich guy was watching me closely. I'd even caught him a couple times. I'd go to the fridges for more milk, his eyes would follow me. Like he sat in a tree blind, gun loaded and a ten point buck just wandered too close.

A hunting metaphor.

I must be getting sick.

"Jesus, Noah." I scolded my coworker with a scowl as he walked past me. He spun around with his arms out.

"What did I do?"

Ignoring him, I picked a plate of the month's special and a caramel latte off the counter where Noah had left it and walked it out to the dining room, placing it on Mr. Abel's table. The one at the window with a clear view of the street - his favorite.

The man was almost ninety, used a cane to walk, and Noah wanted the man to get out of his comfy chair and somehow balance his food while he hobbled back?

"Here ya go, sir." I said in my most cheerful voice. How I was going to make thirteen hundred dollars to pay for the damage to the car wasn't far from the back of my mind. But the stress of the day wasn't going to get me down, and I sure as shit wasn't going to take it out on this absolute sweetheart. "Let me know what you think, yeah?"

"Oh this looks mighty fine, Beth." Mr. Abel smiled up at me, the film of his cataracts in his left eye now almost swallowing the deep green that was behind it. He also paused every other word to take a breath. He reached up and patted my arm. "Thank you, darlin'."

I frowned after I turned back around and headed back behind the counter. It might be time to call Lucy Abel, she'd abandoned Blackwood to chase her 'big city dreams' a few years back but her papaw wasn't doin' well. And her Daddy wasn't a young buck himself. A few choice words and maybe Lucy would pull that stick out of her ass and give a damn about someone other than herse-

"That was kind of you." Elijah broke his silence, and my train of thought, as I walked behind him - the only way to get back behind the counter without going outside and through the backdoor.

I turned to look at him, letting the swingin' door that led behind the bar smack the front of my legs. "I try to look out for the people who look out for me." I shrug, glancing over the papers and briefcase splayed out in front of him. 'Can I get you a latte? Tea?"

He glanced up from his papers, all kind eyes and a sexy little half smile. "Tea, thank you."

Cheeks on fire I spun on my heel, hoping he didn't notice. "S-sure." I heard him chuckle lightly. Fuck he saw it.

Elijah was far too hot to be a boss - my boss, I reminded myself as I laid a bag into a mug of hot water and set the timer to let it steep.

He's my boss. I cannot be attracted to my boss.

It's ridiculous that he's a business owner, he doesn't look that much older than me. Some people were just born into wealth, I supposed.

And Elijah did look like old money - acted like it too. From his aesthetic - the shoes to the hair all the way to how he carried himself. Elijah was confident, his head was up, posture straight, and shoulders back. Type A to the max, or so he seemed. I did just meet the guy, after all.

Regardless, he was a far cry from the type I was usually attracted to.

But completely off limits. I can't do anything that would jeopardize this job. Keeping Val depended on my ability to keep the household running. I glanced back at Mr. Abel. At least we owned the house. Not having to worry about rent was the only gift my dad had ever given me.

The house, an 1820s plantation on twelve acres, was all that was left of seven generations of Graves'. Our family used to own the three hundred acres that surrounded the house, but most of the land was sold off by Dad's granddad during the Great Depression. That was when the old money wheel had finally rusted over and the family did all it could just to keep the house and a portion of the property.

When dad died it was entrusted to me as his 'heir.' I'd laughed at the old term, but it served me well when Ma tried to sell it. Ma only had custodial rights, Dad had ensured it in his will.

The timer on Elijah's tea started beeping and I shut it off, pulling the bag out.

At least Dad felt some kind of responsibility toward the family legacy - the house, not his girls.

Still, whatever we saved in rent we had to put back into the house. It was falling apart. And the taxes were ridiculous. It was a money sink at this point. We couldn't afford to keep up with it - and we couldn't sell it, despite the offers I'd gotten over the years. Some of them were ludicrous.

The teacup made no noise as I sat it down in front of the bossman, who was shifting through legal documents.

I'd almost sold it to a guy that offered twenty million the day I turned eighteen and signed for the property.

Valerie wouldn't let me, because it wasn't about the money - it was about the history.

Letting go of that deal was one of the hardest things I'd done but Val was right. If I sold the house I'd regret it until the day I die. Five generations of our family were raised in that house. The reaper would have to come take us before we'd just let it go.

"How does he look out for you?" Elijah asked as I turned away to start working on the dinner rush prep work. I wouldn't be here for that, but I did all the work so that the night crew didn't need to worry about running out of things by six.

"Sorry?" I asked, my head had been stuck in all the repairs needed on the outside of the house before spring bled into summer and it was too damn hot to do any of it.

"The elderly gentleman," Elijah waved his pen (not a bic, oh no - this was one of those fancy pens that people buy refills for) toward Mr. Abel, eyes fixated on my face "how does he look out for you?"

It took a few seconds for me to realize he was continuing what I'd said before I asked him if he wanted tea. "Oh, yeah. Uhm." I scratched the back of my head, feeling hella awkward and wondering why the bossman wanted to know this information.

"Well I grew up with his granddaughter, Lucy. And Mr. Abel grew up with my papaw. When he was still driving he'd turn up now and then to see how we were doin'. Offerin' help if we needed it. Now that he's not driving he sends his son to check up on us," I shrugged, "small town life." I don't know why I felt the need to tack that on at the end.

Probably because Elijah Mikaelson was clearly a big city guy - probably out for a brief foray into the country to see if rural living suited him. That happened from time to time. City folk leaving their excess and convenience because they got tired of their stressful day to day bullshit.

Most of them couldn't hack it in the country full time. They usually pack up and leave within a couple months. A few years, if they really try to assimilate. The rich ones would hold their property for vacations. Blackwood was close enough to New Orleans that even our hotels got booked out during Mardi Gras and jazz fest- a lot of those rich people's homes got rented out for vacationers year round.

Us locals weren't too upset. The attractions were in the city - the people who stayed here just ate a meal or two at the Bistro and shopped at Mr. Hoskins' general store. A nice little boost in the local economy without the drag of being a tourist attraction.

"A good man," Elijah said and that half smile was back for just a second before it was gone and he dropped his pen into his briefcase, "there aren't many of those left."

"You're right about that." I agreed, turning to get back to work just as Marge burst through the back gripping another stack of papers.

I made my escape at the words 'quarterly revenue' - completely disinterested in how much the bistro made. It seemed odd that Marge was still hanging around if Elijah bought the place. Or maybe they were in the middle of the deal? I don't pretend to know anything about all that.

I cast a glance at Elijah right before I disappeared around the corner. He seemed like a reasonable person, from the little I'd talked to him. Maybe the new boss would listen to some of the ideas I had to improve the bistro? Marge never did.

"I've got the back of the house prepwork, you watch the counter," I told Noah as I passed him on the way to the fridges.

"Anything to get me away from the stove." Noah groaned, literally throwing the towel he had in his hand onto the countertop, folding his hands in prayer at me. "You're a godsend."

I patted his back as he went by. Noah's a good kid, sixteen and he'd dropped out of school. I understood his troubles - he had a rough life. Working at the bistro was keeping him out of trouble and I was doing my best to keep an eye on him, even tried to convince him to re-enroll in school before it was too late. Or at least test for the GED.

He remained stubborn. But I understood.

Sometimes we make sacrifices to take care of our family when our parents are shit dicks. His mom was long dead and his dad's a real piece of work.

Yes, I got it. But I was also worried because I was pretty sure Noah was secretly dating Valerie and too chicken shit to tell me about it. Val probably knew that I was suspicious, too, but she'd yet to fess up. She knew I wouldn't approve - having a boyfriend in this town usually leads to staying in this town.

Nothing against Noah, of course. But Val had potential for far more than what Blackwood had to offer. If she stuck around for a boy she'd regret it.

I didn't think she would sacrifice her future for Noah, but I was cautious anyway - I'd seen it time and time again.

I was in the middle of slicing tomatoes for the evening shift when someone wrenched open the back door and breezed into the kitchen. He was tall, well-dressed but not as refined as Elijah. This guy was all sharp features, beautiful blue eyes, dark blond curly hair and nearly spitting fire - looking like someone pissed in his cheerios.

He had 'bad boy' vibes. All the bad boy vibes.

Dangerous for me. I'd always liked those types.

"Elijah!" The newcomer called, with a deep voice and British accent clear in the way he formed the name of my new boss. The Brit turned, saw me, gave me a once over. He raised a brow and lifted his hand - some kind of half assed wave. I awkwardly waved back with the chef's knife that was in my hand - completely confused. Then the guy spun around to walk out toward the dining room where he'd find the man he was looking for.

I went back to working, wondering what the fuck just happened.

It couldn't have been more than two minutes later and the newcomer flounced back into the kitchen and leaned with his arms crossed against the prep table I was now chopping lettuce on.

"First the tomato, now this." I paused and looked up at him. "What did the arugula do to deserve such sadistic dismemberment?"

I caught the corners of my mouth lifting and gestured with my knife. "It's crunchy water - need I say more?"

He smiled, revealing a row of straight teeth. "Klaus Mikaelson," he introduced himself, "I'd shake your hand but I'm told it's unsanitary to do so when someone prepares food."

Marge had said bosses, plural, hadn't she? I'd caught it but it was one of those things that had barely registered. "The health department tends to frown on that. I'm Beth. You're one of my new bosses, then?"

"Indeed," he looked around the kitchen but stayed put where he was, "my brother has, quote 'revolutionary goals for business expansion.'" He looked back at me and tilted his head to the side. "Call him eccentric. Now, does this fine establishment serve liquor?"

I snorted and resumed cutting. "If you're desperate you can ask Selma, the lady that's in the back of the bistro on the laptop. She hasn't left her house without a flask of gin in decades. Other than that, you'll have to go down the road to Roy's."

"Ah, the seedy biker bar full of ale-sodden retrobates? Perhaps later, if I'm still feeling peckish."

Peckish? Shouldn't he have meant thirsty? I opened my mouth to ask but was interrupted.

"Niklaus." The bossman's voice called just before the finely dressed man stepped into the kitchen, his briefcase gripped in one hand. His brow lifted seeing her and his little half smile was back. At this point I was starting to wonder if he was more than the friendly new boss. His little smile might be like… business flirting. Maybe? Or did I just hope? His smirk fell off when he looked at his brother. "We have places to be."

"Wish I had that drink." Klaus sighed exaggeratedly, looking up at the ceiling like it would give him the answers or strength he needed. He lowered his head again. "Well, lovely meeting you." He turned and whisper-shouted to Elijah. "Lock up the vegetables around this one, Elijah, she's got a knife and a grudge against them."

Elijah shook his head as Klaus backed away and walked toward the back door. "He's incorrigible. I apologize if he bothered you."

I smiled and shook my head, loading the lettuce into a container. "No, he was fine. Funny." I pushed the lid onto the container and slid it to where the tomatoes already were. I look up at him. "Do you already own the bistro or is this like a transition period?"

"We're waiting for some final paperwork to process but I do effectively make decisions for the bistro." He switched his briefcase from one hand to the next. "Something on your mind?"

I shook my head. "Not really. Just a few ideas I'd had over the years that Marge didn't like. You might not either but I'd like you to hear them when you have time. If you want." I tacked that last part on, suddenly feeling like I was trying to boss my boss around.

He smiled, this one stretching his whole face. "I would love to. Tomorrow, before shift?"

I smiled back. "Sure. I'll be here early."

This cheeky mother fucker had the audacity to wink at me before he turned and walked out.

Flirting. He was so flirting. I knew it.

"Fuck."

Roy's was packed for a Wednesday night. I walked in and threw my shit down in the kitchen, shouting my hellos to the guys in the back. They waved but were preoccupied with the pizza orders they were filling.

"Thank the lord, I could kiss you." Millie, one of the other bartenders, said as soon as I stepped out behind the bar.

"I'm not into redheads, Mill." I winked at her and she laughed, smacking me with a rag as I walked by.

"That's still not a good enough reason not to be in love with me." Mill laughed, rolling her eyes when I stuck my tongue out at her. "Don't tempt me like that when you know you aint gonna follow through, now."

I laugh. Getting a job at Roy's had been one of the best decisions I'd ever made for my mental health. The people who came through here weren't the type who watched their words or minded their manners. They were rough and tumble, take no shit types and the kind of people I'd always gotten along with best.

I didn't have to censor myself around these people. I didn't have to pretend that I had all my shit together, because none of them had their together so they never judged. Especially the staff.

I started pouring shots for the guys in the corner who called out for a round, vaguely aware that Klaus Mikaelson had just walked in and seated himself at my section of the bar with another man, one that wasn't Elijah but looked like a younger version (another brother?) of her boss, occupying the seat next to him.

"Come get it, Evan, I'm not walking this shit over there." I pointed at one of the guys who'd asked for the round, a guy I'd gone to high school with.

"I will if you take a shot!" He called back, getting out of his seat anyway.

I rolled my eyes. People have been trying to get me to drink since I turned twenty-one.

But I'd watched my dad drown himself with the bottle and I wouldn't do to Valerie what dad did to us both. "I'm good."

Evan turned back to his group of drunk friends. I'd gone to school with most of them, actually. "Hey do y'all remember when Beth used to be fun?"

They all laughed and I gave him a sarcastic smile before I looked back at the table. "Hey do y'all remember when Evan used to have hair?"

Their laughter was immediate and loud. Evan slapped a hand to his bald head in mock hurt. "Ouch, damn. Okay. I'll just be over here, nursing that burn."

I turned away with a wave. "Let me know if you need ice." I took one of the rags out of the sanitizer water and wiped down where I'd left a sticky mess quickly, looking up at Klaus and the guy he came in with. His eyebrows were raised and he was looking at me.

"To think that the local barista moonlights as a snarky bartender on the wrong side of town?" Klaus tisked and leaned his elbows on the bar. "I'm hesitant to ask what you do on your days off, love."

"Garden." I deadpanned and tried very hard not to smile.

His smile stretched across his face.

I couldn't help smiling back, tossing the rang back into its bucket. "Baristas and bartenders are pretty much the same thing, anyway. The skills are transferable. What can I get you guys?"

Klaus smacked a hand to his partner's shoulder. "My brother and I will take two Woodford's, neat."

Laying two glasses in front of the brothers, I pulled the Woodford off the shelf. "Another Mikaelson, then. I'm Beth, nice to meet you."

"Kol," the new Mikaelson responded, eyes fixed on my face in a very unnerving way. This guy was British, too, and just as fine as his brothers. What the hell kind of genetic lottery did this family win? At this point I'm guessing their whole family was attractive.

Lord, bless. How many of them were there?

"Six of us, darling. You're half down, now." Kol winked, bringing his glass to his lips.

Ah, hell. I'd said that out loud. I felt my face heat under his scrutiny. Why the hell did they all run their eyes up and down my body like that? Was it a British thing? Elijah's accent wasn't nearly so pronounced but I'd really listened to him before he left the bistro and I could hear hints of it.

"Large family. Sounds chaotic." I said, trying to change the subject.

Klaus and Kol both laughed and it bordered on hysterical.

"You have no idea, love."

Nice, chill little chapter. Things won't speed up much until after Beth meets them all.