Chapter Text
Roberto distantly remembered a line from a comedy special he’d watched with his sister ages ago about crazy people and how the things they say mean nothing to them, but mean everything to those who hear it.
He’d gotten hired at Golden Craft: Curios, oddities, trinkets and more! over the summer mostly so he could have a chance to talk to the pretty redhead who worked there. They were always dressed in dark long sleeves and long skirts, no matter the weather. He’d then learned that she was his new boss and also into women, but the place paid well and he got to observe his other boss causing a ruckus every chance he got. That wasn’t as fun as getting paid or have Sofie explain her elaborate tea making technique to him.
Turns out, people outside his family’s immediate circles were distinctly more interesting, although they didn't really help Roberto's anxiety.
The McAllens weren’t exactly what Roberto had expected of witches. Granted, they did wear the pointy hats and owned a worrying amount of bones and amulets, but that was about the end to what Roberto had expected of them.
First was Sophie, who- while being quite mischievous and in charge of the spookier witchcraft- was very nice. Sure, her eyes were unnerving, acid green and jewel purple and slit pupiled as they were, and Roberto thought he'd caught a glimpse of a forked tongue once or twice, but she was very nice. She liked what she called ‘white girl lattes’ from the cafe a few streets away. She rode her bike everywhere, made kind of disgusting tea from the plants growing in her garden, she always brought snacks for everyone in the mornings, and was really quite talented at making dandelion and banana bread. She always had a strange fact to share about stars and herbs. She also made Roberto and the two nymphs who lived on the property a bracelet each, saying it was laced with a protection spell. When Roberto had asked why, she’d just said to beware alleyways and store-bought mangoes. And then she’d given him a stalk of lavender to put inside his hat (a baseball cap with the entirety of the shop's name written on it with a sharpie, courtesy of his second boss.)
“I always have some in mine,” she’d assured him, sweeping her pointy black hat off her head with a flourish. Indeed, there was a stalk of lavender, as well as a wishbone, the type found in chickens. Roberto asked her why she had it.
“Oh that? That’s for an emergency situation. Same thing for this bad boy.” She’d then showed Roberto the human tooth she apparently carried around at all times.
Roberto refrained from any more questions and went back to absentmindedly cleaning the counter.
A week later, she’d shoved chamomile in his pockets and a 3 cent piece. Like an actual 3 cents in US money, which doesn’t exist. Roberto had decided to just keep whatever she gave him. They seemed like charms of sorts. Most of the flowers and plants ended up dried in between pages of books before finding a place somewhere in his desk or near his windows. He had a whole collection of cents that shouldn’t exist now, stored safely in a jar under his bed.
Soon enough, Roberto started to notice how, whenever it was raining and he hadn’t been smart enough to have an umbrella and raincoat on him, he’d end up perfectly dry. He always seemed to have five dollars on him for some reason, which was good for whenever he’d forget his bus pass. He’d had an awful track record with keeping houseplants alive for as long as he could remember, and yet the orchids at his bedroom window thrived these days.
Second was Barry, who Roberto liked a whole lot less. He was the exact type of loud, weird, confusing and unpredictable that put Roberto on edge. It didn’t help that he looked like a particularly vicious fox; his teeth were serrated, his squinting eyes a bright golden yellow, his ears were pointed, his nails were long and black (Roberto presumed it was a manicure), and his hair was a bright ginger quite unlike his sister’s deep red, but quite like a fox. He was loud. He talked and moved quickly, making Roberto jump and tense up from the intensity of him as a person. He had an accent that was both from the northern corners of Ireland and from the deep depths of Brooklyn, a perfect mix that was also neither at all. Roberto had once seen him down an entire family size jug of Sunny-D in one sitting. He had also seen Barry put that same amount of Sunny-D in a bleach container before going out strictly to freak people out. He did this so often Roberto has started to worry the man's pee was soon to turn radioactive.
It didn’t help that Barry wore sunshine yellows and neon pinks while customers were present, always changing into it within the blink of an eye to greet potential buyers. Literally. Roberto had blinked and the guy was in his eye sore of an outfit; star-sequined trench coat, jingling bells, showmen's gloves, all vivid shades of yellow, pink and purple. When he was out of it, he looked normal enough, with his burgundy cargo shorts and yellow button ups who only ever varied in pattern and pattern only, but normal enough didn't mean the epitome of men's fashion. It didn’t help that he only ever wore neon pink crocs, complete with jibbets.
Roberto knew that he had no right to judge his boss' fashion style, but still.
Barry also had the worst habit of popping out from hiding places to yell or grab Roberto. He would also give Roberto the worst handshakes. They weren’t bad or anything- one of Barry’s specialities were handshakes (as well as selling overpriced merchandise.) They just left Roberto feeling like a bug that had snuck itself underneath someone’s tongue.
The two nymphs weren’t as bad, but Roberto found himself being severely disliked by the smaller one and severely creeped out by the taller one. It was hard to avoid them though, as the smaller one, Spruce, always made Roberto's business her business. He’d ended up arguing with her more than once about how to water flowers and decorate the outside of the shop. Apparently, Spruce and Birch were masters of decorations. Roberto thought it was weird for two nymphs who dressed like they were supporting an ecological sports team at all times to be experts on decorations, but as he’d apparently done the crime of putting the pink and red decorations next to each other while organizing the neon signs and garden sculptures outside, he left them to it.
The other half of the time was when Barry would explicitly ask for Roberto to involve candles in the display. Why Barry always wanted his employees to change the appearance of Golden Craft: Curios, oddities, trinkets and more! , Roberto didn’t know. He guessed the man just liked to see him struggle, or perhaps he got bored quickly.
Really though, he liked the place. It was a freeing change of pace from what he was used to with his family, where everything was clean and orderly and quiet, prim and coloured in pastels, or dark and surrounded with taxidermied animals. His job smelled like Sophie’s drying plants and weird teas; there were stolen street signs and neons that never stayed in one place for long; thousands of oddities and cursed objects and potions lined up inside the shop with no clear organization or color scheme. None of it- especially not the people he worked with- would be close to anything his parents would enjoy. It was great.
But eventually, he’d have to head home after his shifts. He’d hide whatever interesting jewelry Sophie had lent him inside his pillowcase so his mom wouldn’t find it. He’d scrape off the nail polish Barry had meticulously put on each nail so everyone would match on special sale days.
It was okay though, really! No one had to know about any of that. He was happy enough, going to work and returning home the way he did. He didn’t want to lose it, even if his bosses were a little crazy and his family was rather… suffocating.
He just hoped his parents never found out that “Gold Hearts” wasn’t actually a normal everyday antique shop thirty minutes away. He would rather get disowned and labeled as a heathen AFTER he’d moved out, thank you.