Page 1 of A Tall Order (Shade Grown Coffee Boys #1)

“I need two turkeys and a Reuben!” I look up briefly to see if my words have fallen on deaf ears again. The display case is getting dreadfully empty and it looks terrible. We aren't supposed to let it get this empty, but people don’t want to work here. I can’t blame them, though. They have lives and friends. Stuff to do and people to see outside of the job. I have nothing. Not since Paul passed.

I'm being dramatic.

It's also maybe because I’m in a terrible mood. Today is the three year anniversary of Paul’s death and I’m trying not to think about it. Throwing myself into making this place as spotless and well-run as I can is my go-to answer when I’m missing Paul. I am the manager after all. No one likes the manager when they're in a mood.

I take a deep breath and look back at the guys, trying to keep my voice even. “I’m sorry. Can you two please refill the case for me? We have about twenty minutes until the lunch rush and I don’t want to be caught empty. ”

“Got it, boss.” Tyler —or Taylor?— says. He was the most recent hire and seems to be buddy-buddy with Amir. They graduated high school at the start of the summer and took a gap semester, doing this as a way to save up some money. I will have to think about hiring someone or two someones soon.

I move to the office to grab one of the inventory checklists. It’s a small, cramped space that allows for a desk, a swivel chair, and the safe. There are cabinets above, filled with stacks of different papers. It’s not the most organized, but I know where everything is.

The coffee shop is a decent size for the city. The back room, where my office sits, holds the cooking area that includes two freezers and a tall oven, and the storage closet are all smushed together. The ‘Deli’ side of the coffee shop is small, only offering croissants during breakfast and grab-and-go sandwiches until they run out for lunch. The coffee is what takes up the majority of the space. It’s a semi-circle counter with shelves filled of different goodies. The espresso machine is state-of-the-art and makes hot or cold coffee drinks. There is a whole stand of different flavors and chocolates to add to sweeten the pot. I love a good latte, but my guilty pleasure is a white chocolate hot chocolate with caramel drizzle.

I sigh, thinking of the way Paul would always kick off the Fall season by bringing one home to me.

I need to focus on the day. I don't have time to think about him. My old Daddy. I have a store to manage, customers to keep happy. Three employees to make sure they’re ready for the hour lunch rush.

Walking back out to the main floor, I check that Tyler— definitely Tyler— and Amir are making the sandwiches I asked. Jason is on the coffee side, with a line of three people. I head over there to see if he needs help. He’s a great worker, loves doing the coffees. He’s working on his latte art skills, even though ninety percent of our drinks are to-go and have lids.

“Hey Jason, are you doing okay over here?” I set the clipboard down on the counter, out of the way, and look at the list he has scribbled beside the register. It looks like each of them have already been checked out and are just waiting for their drinks.

“I think I’m good on these drinks, but I did notice that some of the tables were a little dirty. I haven’t had a chance to clear them and make sure everything is stocked yet.”

“I’ll do it,” I say with a smile. Jason is one that works hard but also isn't scared to ask for a helping hand. Even as the manager, I didn’t mind having Jason ask me to do something. “Have you been able to do inventory on this side yet?”

“Uh, I got half way.” Jason wipes the steam wand off and positions the milk to get ready. “I’ll get to the—”

“No, don’t worry about it. I can finish the rest of it after work today. I’m going to be here doing some paperwork anyway. Just keep up the good work.”

I move back around the counter and toward the tables. There is a small opening with one of those swinging doors on the side facing the seating area. It's a convenient short cut for the employees. I nod to the customers waiting for their drinks. One of them I recognize as a regular.

There are a couple other customers sitting at the tables. The rest aren’t too bad, but I take a towel from the bucket that sits in a sanitizer bucket out of reach of the customers. I wipe down the first table, pick up an empty cup from another, and then pass a mom with her younger son before wiping a sticky mess off the third table and one of the seats .

I look up from the task at hand to see the little boy watching me. He smiles and waves, his other hand holding tight to the stuffed koala bear. It’s a cute stuffie, no bigger than the kid’s head. I wiggle my fingers back at him with a small smile.

“Hey, Austin! I think we’re out of shredded lettuce!” Amir calls out across the small space.

I sigh, glancing once more at the little boy and his stuffed animal. It reminds me of the ones I’ve kept over the years, too scared to take off the shelf in case something happened to them. Paul got them for me for special occasions; our first year together, my twenty-fifth birthday, and the night he proposed.

I take a deep breath and will the tears to not fall. I won't cry today. Not in front of people.

The lunch rush goes as expected. We sell out of our food items within twenty minutes and I’m helping Jason keep up with coffee orders the rest of the day. There is no stopping between lunch and the end of the day with clean up and the different checklists to go through. After I’m sure Jason and the other two can handle cleaning up, I head back to the office and sit down in my chair with a huff. The distraction of the rush took my mind off of things for a short while. But now all I have is paperwork and inventory to do. Mindless work; work that won’t stop me from thinking about Paul.

I put my elbows on the edge of the desk and my head in my hands. Two deep breaths and I’m fighting to keep my composure. The guys will be gone in about half an hour. There’s not much to clean up at the end of the day. Just one deep breath at a time.

I’ve missed him for three years. One thousand and ninety-five days. Paul isn’t coming back. When the first tear slips, I turn around and close my door. I don’t do it often, mostly only when I have to take an important phone call or have a meeting. Hopefully the guys will assume so and not bother me.

Tears roll down my cheeks and I try to wipe them before they fall to the paper sitting on the desk between my arms. I miss him so much, though. Five years with the best damn Daddy in the world, the love of my life, my everything, my protector, lover, fighter, healer, kisser of boo-boos, and best storyteller. These are all the things I couldn’t say at his funeral. His mom knew that we had a different dynamic, a more intimate one, but she didn’t know the specifics. She didn’t know that most nights, I would wear my comfy PJs and play with blocks while Paul would cook and then feed me and then read me a bedtime story.

It’s been so long, I can barely hear the different voices he used to do.

A chime on my phone alerts me that I’ve been dwelling on my own stuff for far too long. It’s well past the time the guys have left and I should be leaving in ten minutes myself. I clear my face with one hand and shake my shoulders. It’s hard.

I open the door and, thankfully, everything looks like it’s been done. The lights are all dimmed, the coffee machines are cleaned and off. The hot case for sandwiches is wiped out. Glass is clear of smudges, utensils and napkins all stocked. They really aren’t bad workers; I’m just in a shitty mood. I look out the window to the side street the shop faces. The sun is past set this time of year, but the streets are still going with a bit of traffic, both cars and foot. The coffee shop is set in a busier part of town, near a hospital where most of our customers come from. The street has limited parking out front and it's only one way traffic, but there's a parking lot in the back that has more than enough spaces for our shop and the restaurant to the left .

I move to the table area once more, my section to clean each night. It’s only fair that the chores are split evenly. I grab the sanitizer bucket and refill it with a fresh solution before walking back toward the tables.

A silhouette at the door startles me and I jump, sloshing a bit of the water on the floor beside me. The person isn’t menacing, though, and the light settled under the canopy brightens his features enough for me to see that it’s Remington.

My nerves settle slightly and I reach for the key on my waistband. He hurries in the door and I lock it back behind him. I should have expected him. He’s come to visit each year. And random days in between. Always checking up on me, keeping his promise to Paul, his best friend, to keep me safe and okay.

“Hey Remi,” I say. My voice clearly gives away that I was crying. As I’m sure the red around my eyes does too. They still feel sore.

“Austin.” Remington Higgins, property manager extraordinaire, greets me. He’s been around more than once when I've been in my Little space. He hasn’t brought it up to me since Paul’s passing. “I was in the area and saw the light was still on. Figured I would come see how you were.”

“You don’t have to pretend.” I move back toward the tables and start giving them a good cleaning. “It’s the anniversary of Paul’s death. I honestly should expect your visit by now.”

“If you don’t want me here—” I can hear the hesitance in his voice.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m just on edge today. I couldn’t stop thinking about Paul and then I just sat in the office for god knows how long crying. I’m just ready to get home.”

“You should have taken today off,” Remington says. “For starters, you deserve it because you haven’t taken a break in over a year. I’ve been keeping tabs on you. And two, given the circumstances, I think people would understand.”

I grab the broom and start sweeping under the tables against the wall. They aren’t deep, but from my height, I can’t see what’s under them. When that same stuffed koala skids silently across the floor, I freeze.

That little boy earlier looked so happy with it. How did it end up there? My eyes drift to the table where the little boy had been sitting. It isn’t far away. Looks like maybe it was tossed by accident.

“What’s that?” Remington asks. He scoops down into my view and picks up the stuffie. It’s small in his hands. “Is this yours?”

“No,” I say quickly. “Mine are at home. There was a little boy here earlier that had it. I remember because it reminded me of the ones Paul gave me. The panda one he got me the night he proposed.”

“You still have it?” I watch Remington dust off the koala and set it down on one of the clean tables. “Do you still have all of your stuffies? I remember watching you make up stories with them for hours. It was one of my favorite things when I came over to visit you and Paul.”

“Really?” I don’t mean for the word to come out so defensive but that can’t be the truth. Paul and Remington were best friends and sure, Remington would interact with me from time-to-time, but to openly admit that you liked watching another man act out stories with stuffed animals?

“Yes, really. Austin, you know I’m in the lifestyle too.” Remington moves to stand in front of me so I can't avoid his look. I nod. “I may not have found what you and Paul had, but I do know when a Little needs some Little time. You went from having that whenever you needed to nothing for three years. I came by to see if you wanted to—”

“I can’t,” I cut him off. “I’m sorry, Remi, but I can’t do that. Not with- without him. It just doesn’t feel right. I get all icky and it just feels wrong.” More tears are threatening and I can feel my whole body starting to shake.

“Hey, Austin, it’s okay. Sit down, okay? Here. Let me get you something to drink.”

“No, I’m fine.” Even as the tears start and I know this time I’m not going to be able to stop them. I’ve thrown tantrums in front of Remington before, tears that I tried to use to get my way, but the real ones, the ones of grief and pain, these I haven’t shown anyone.

“Austin.” The sharp tone of his voice has me looking up in surprise. It’s definitely a Daddy voice. I realize now that I never once saw a Little with him. He talked about one or another he met at a club from time-to-time. Paul and I went to the club on certain nights but we were never regulars. Paul was a technician and while he made decent money, he didn’t have the means to pay the dues each month. It was okay though, because he spoiled me in every sense of the word. “Sit down and let me get you something to drink before you start hyperventilating. Have you eaten today?”

“I ate earlier,” I answer meekly. Earlier being sometime before noon and it had to be at least seven, maybe even eight now.

“How early is earlier?” When I don’t answer, Remington has his answer. He picks up the koala and hands it over. Then he bends down and rests one hand on my knee. I wrap the koala in my other hand. Remington’s brown eyes look directly into mine. “I’m going to get you something to eat and drink. I want you to sit right here for me, okay? This little guy is going to need someone to take care of him. He might be scared and lonely right now since he was left here accidentally. Can you make sure he feels safe?”

My eyes dart between Remington, with his now soft voice, and the koala. It’s fur is soft and the eyes are the same color as mine. A pretty blue that Paul always said sparkled in the sunlight. I smile and run a hand over its head.

“You sit here and think of a name for him, okay?” Remington waits until I nod before going off. When I’m sure he’s out of hearing range, breaking all kinds of health code violations for going behind the counter without proper gear or training, I open my mouth to talk.

“I’m sorry you got left behind today, Mister Koala,” I whisper. “I got left today too. Well, three years ago. My Daddy left me. He was hurt really bad in an accident and didn’t make it. He was the best Daddy ever. We would play blocks and he gave me a whole collection of animals just like you. He sang silly songs while we did bath time and did funny voices during bedtime stories.” I hug the koala to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. I can feel myself wanting so desperately to slip into that comforting Little space. To let the problems of the world slip away for a while. I can’t, though. I don’t have a Daddy to take care of me when I’m that vulnerable. I bury my nose in the fur between the koala’s ears. “I’m sorry you were left alone. No one should feel like they’re alone.”

“Austin,” Remington’s voice is somewhere around me, but I don’t open my eyes this time. I cry harder, letting out sobs that have built over the years of pretending to be strong and put together. “It’s okay, Austin. Let it out. I’m right here. I’m right here with you. ”

Warm arms wrap around from behind me. Some part of my brain registers that Remington is sitting in the chair behind me. His arms come around my middle and rest lightly, his chest pressing with just enough pressure against my back that it comforts me more than suffocates. He remembers that I don’t like heavy things on me. I move one hand from the koala to rest on his hands on my stomach and listen as he mumbles soft words, reminding me that I’m not alone tonight.

When I think that all of my tears are dried up, I cry a little more. At some point I moved from being hunched forward to leaned back against Remington’s chest. I’m not the smallest guy either. At thirty-years-old, I’m close to six feet and have built a little bit of muscle. Nothing intentional, but I joined a gym and go on nights I can’t sleep. Which is a couple times a month, at least. My torso is half twisted so my cheek is pressed against Remington’s chest and the soothing sound of his heartbeat calms me further. His fingers are carding through my short hair.

“I’m—”

“Austin, if you apologize for crying on today of all days, I’m going to be upset. I’m glad I could be here for you. Do you feel better?”

“Not really,” I answer honestly. “I feel like I should probably go home and sleep.”

“Can I ask you something and you promise to not get mad at me or shut me down?”

I sit up slowly and look at him. Mister Koala is still in my right hand, clutched tightly. “I don’t know?”

Remington’s features are all soft and earnest. He’s kept his hair short for years now. It isn't shaved, but nowhere near long enough to flop in his eyes like mine does sometimes. His muscles are more prominent, intentional with his workouts. It’s been years since I saw him in the gym, but he and Paul had a routine for a while and it looks like he keeps up with it. His eyes are kind, a soft brown with little specks in them. His nose flares slightly at the nostrils, the Higgins curse he would always joke. His lips are surrounded by a mustache and a beard that hits his chest.

“Do you want to slip into your Little space tonight?” Remington’s hand traces down my back, stops mid way, and moves back up to my shoulders. “I’m not trying to invite myself over or do anything untoward, Austin. But I heard what you said to the koala. I’m not the best at voices, but we can do PJs and I can read you a story. I’ll slip out once you fall asleep.”