“But for now, we’re going to focus on what we can do here,” Quin said gently, patting Glyma’s thigh. “And how we can set up our Greed location for success.”

“Of course, how can I help? Do I need to train the new hires? Wait, have you hired new people already? I haven’t seen you interview anyone since Ollie.

Oh my gods”—Gem pressed two hands to his chest—“are you asking me to help vet the new hires? Because I am a great judge of character, and I will be relentless in my questioning. Only the best for this cafe.”

“Gem,” Glyma said, and Gem slapped a hand over his mouth to shut himself up. “We have some interviews set up, and one of the evening workers has shown some potential, so we’re thinking of moving them to the dayshift. But that’s not why we wanted to talk to you.

“If we move forward and open the Greed location, we need someone to run it. There’s not a full kitchen, so I’m needed here, along with Willow to bake for two shops,” Glyma said, and Gem nodded, mind racing.

“Okay. So we’ll have to interview someone with management experience. That probably won’t be too hard to find, right? ”

Quin pinched the bridge of her nose as Glyma chuckled. “Gem, we want you to run it.”

Gem blinked in a wave. “Sorry, what?”

“We’re promoting you,” Quin said, and Gem laughed.

“No, you’re not. That’s crazy. That’s, like, so dumb. Why would you… why would you do that. I’m not—I mean, I’m—what?”

Rounding the desk, Glyma propped her ass against it and set a hand on Gem’s shoulder as he fought the sudden need to burst into tears—again. “It’s not dumb. We’d be crazy not to choose you.”

“Really? Like you’re not fucking with me? You’re serious?” he choked out, and Glyma nodded.

“Did you think we’d keep you a barista forever?” Quin asked.

“I mean, yeah. I was planning on dying behind that espresso machine,” Gem admitted around a sob. “It was going to be tragic and dramatic, and everyone would tell the story for years.”

“Well, it’s obviously your choice,” Glyma said, fighting a laugh, “but we want you to run the Greed location.”

“But then I wouldn’t be here,” Gem said.

“That would be the point,” Quin said, but Gem was shaking his head again.

“No, I mean, I wouldn’t be here with everyone else.

I’d be there. All alone. And what if I never saw you again?

What if you all forgot about me, and then I’d be like Fil, and you’d all sit around being like, ‘Who was that super-hot guy that used to be our barista?’ And someone else would be like, ‘I dunno, maybe his name was Jam?’

“But that’s not even my name,” Gem wailed, trying not to hyperventilate. “I don’t think you understand what bad FOMO I have. I won’t know any of the inside jokes anymore, and we’d pass each other on the street, and we wouldn’t even say hello.”

Glyma patted Gem’s shoulder soothingly. “Gem, that won’t happen. Your best friend works here, and you would see Quin and I all the time for management meetings and stuff. And your—Rusty would be here.”

“Why are you naming all the people that are here when I won’t be?” Gem demanded tearfully.

“That’s not what I meant. You having so many people here ensures that you’ll still be super involved.

And do you really think we could ever forget you?

” Glyma said as Gem wiped furiously at the tears streaming down his face.

“And you won’t be alone in Greed. We’re planning to ask Ollie to go with you, so he could take some of Quin’s back office responsibilities. ”

“Aw, I get to keep Ollie?” Gem burst into full blown sobs, and Glyma wrapped her arms around his shoulders with a laugh.

“Yes, Oliver would go with you and handle the office stuff and provide back-up for you if it ever got too busy. But the location is very small, takeaway only. No meals. Just coffee and pastries,” Glyma said.

“And if we have success there, we’d search out a new, bigger location to set up permanent shop,” Quin said.

“And you want me to run it?” Gem asked, needing to be sure.

“Yes,” Glyma and Quin said, and Gem burst into a fresh round of tears.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I’m just feeling a lot of big emotions right now.”

A tissue box appeared in front of him, and he grabbed one for each hand, dabbing at his eyes as he blew his nose.

“I’m gonna do such a good job, you don’t even know.

I’m gonna be the best godsdamned manager in the history of managers.

I won’t let you down. Unless I do, but it would be on accident, and I promise, I’ll be super sorry about it. ”

“We know you’re going to do splendidly,” Glyma said, giving Gem another tight hug.

After he cried himself empty, he listened to their plan, taking in the details as best he could as his brain sprinted a mile a minute.

Glyma showed him pictures of the Greed location, and they were not kidding.

It was tiny. Standing room only. A shoebox office room.

Barely any space behind the counter to breathe.

And Gem adored it. He was going to put pictures of everyone on the walls, so he could look at them while he worked. And he and Oliver would be the best team, he just knew it.

“When are you announcing it?” Gem asked when Quin pointed out that open mic night would be starting soon and that they should wrap this up.

“Once it’s set in stone,” Glyma said. “Once the lease is signed, and—yeah, we’ll make an announcement then. So hopefully within a few weeks.”

“Okay, I promise I won’t say anything.” Gem met both Glyma’s and Quin’s gazes. “I promise.”

“We know,” Quin said as Glyma yanked Gem into another hug.

“Now, dry those eyes,” Glyma said, patting Gem’s cheeks. “We have an open mic night to run.”

“Can I help behind the counter?” Gem asked as he used yet another tissue to clean his face. “Apparently, my days there are numbered, and I want to make the most of them.”

“Of course,” Glyma said.

“Be sure to clock in,” Quin said, glancing down at Gem’s “shirt”. “Maybe put on an apron?”

Gem stopped in the bathroom to wash his face thoroughly, pressing cold, wet paper towels to his eyes to reduce the puffiness. His stomach was a mass of nerves and excitement and, yes, sadness too. Because the cafe in Purgatory, which had defined the last decade of his life, would go on without him.

No more spending the last hour of his shift shooting the shit with Toni. No more I’m the Man tank tops or obnoxious flirting with Rusty. No more lunch breaks with Zef or gossip sessions with Willow. Everything was going to change.

But then he thought of that tiny hole-in-the-wall spot in Greed that he could make his own. He and Oliver would forge a new path in the Passing Through story, and then on weekends, they’d all hang out together, like they always did.

Yes, things were changing, but it was a good change. Gem had to believe it would be good.

When he was in control, he exhaled slowly and primped his curls until they lay just right.

Then he strode purposefully into the dining area of the cafe.

Like Rusty had been waiting for him, those pale eyes found him immediately, and he arched a questioning eyebrow.

Gem sent him a few thumbs-up and a reassuring smile, and Rusty nodded, turning his attention back to the deck of cards he was shuffling.

Slipping behind the counter, Gem clocked in, donned an apron, and took his place behind the espresso machine.

The young Sypent worker—Cya, Gem thought their name was—gave him an annoyed eye-roll, but didn’t fight him.

They stood behind the register as a Cervyn Gem had never seen before boxed up pastries from the case.

Open mic night was, in a word, amazing. Toni and Jude played a song, and Gem had never been prouder of his best friend as he sang into the microphone, smiling at Jude like the human hung the moons.

And after they finished, Jude pressed a kiss to Toni’s mouth, and Gem whooped, chest full to bursting.

Rusty took to the stage next, and Gem motioned to Cya to take over the espresso machine so he could give all his attention to the Pyclon. He waved six thumbs-up as Rusty came to a stop in front of the mic, and his ears twitched with nerves as he greeted the crowd.

“Anyway,” Rusty said when the crowd’s applause died down, “I guess I need a volunteer or whatever.”

“Oh, me! Me, me, me!” Gem shrieked, flailing his arms as he climbed over the counter.

He tripped and nearly face-planted, but he caught himself at the last minute, wincing when his ankle twinged.

“Ah, fuck, my ankle. Rus, me! Choose me.” He caught sight of a Nymph, one of their regulars, cautiously raising her hand, and he practically snarled, “Put your fucking hand down, Brenda. I’m doing it. ”

Amusement had Rusty’s tail dancing, and Gem beamed at him as he scrambled onto the stage, grabbing the mic. “I’ll be your volunteer.”

“Uh, okay,” Rusty said, gulping down nerves as he stepped toward Gem. There was relief in his eyes, and it warmed Gem all over.

In his not so humble opinion, he added much flair and pizzazz to the act, but Rusty’s sleight of hand could not be upstaged.

When Gem found the card he’d pulled from the deck—a purple three of keys—in his back pocket, he shrieked with excitement and showed it to the audience, who burst into raucous applause.

How Rusty had slipped the card into Gem’s pocket without him feeling it was impressive in and of itself, but the fact that Rusty had touched Gem’s ass—in front of a room full of people, no less—was probably Gem’s favorite part of the trick.

As they stepped off the stage to make room for a patron carrying an acoustic guitar, Gem knocked Rusty’s shoulder, sending him stumbling several steps. “That was impressive.”

“Thanks,” Rusty grumbled. “So was your… pizzazz.”

“I knew you liked my pizzazz,” Gem preened, and though Rusty huffed and rolled his eyes, his tail gave him away.

It swayed high and amused, and Gem wanted to touch it.

To be honest, he wanted to stroke it. Generously.

And judging from the Pyclon’s ever-thickening pheromones, he had a feeling Rusty wouldn’t mind that one bit.

When Rusty demanded his card back, Gem refused, shoving it as deep in his pocket as it could go. “I’m keeping it as a souvenir.”

“A souvenir of what?” Rusty threw up his hands in exasperation.

“Of the night you touched my ass!”

Unfortunately, when it came time to head home, the card was no longer in Gem’s pocket at all. Genuinely distraught, he searched under the tables and in every pocket he possessed, but the card was gone.

“I think it fell out of my pocket,” he whined, glaring down at Bob, the burnt orange bug-thing that lived in Quin’s office. “And then Bob probably stole it, that thieving little monster!”

He would have pushed the issue, but Rusty pointed out that their train to Lust was leaving soon, and he didn’t want to wait half an hour for the next one. So he grudgingly pulled on his hoodie and dragged Rusty toward Purgatory Station.

“It’s just a card,” Rusty said as the train pulled to a stop on Platform L.

“No, it signifies a once-in-a-lifetime event, and now it’s lost to me forever,” Gem lamented dramatically, making Rusty snuffle a laugh.

“Once-in-a-lifetime event? ”

Stepping to the side to let the passengers trickle out, Gem hip-checked the Pyclon. “Well, I’m not psychic, but I don’t foresee you touching my ass ever again. So yeah, once in a lifetime.”

Rusty’s tail flicked and an almost mischievous grin curled the edges of his mouth as he angled his head to meet Gem’s gaze.

Then he brazenly lifted a paw and placed it in the middle of Gem’s left asscheek.

He didn’t squeeze or rub; he simply rested his hand for the span of one breath before he removed it and crossed his arms over his chest.

Since his brain had decided to stop braining, Gem struggled for words for several seconds before he managed to blurt out, “Why did you just do that?”

“Because you’re going to tell everyone that I touched your ass on a crowded platform in the middle of the station,” Rusty said as he boarded the train, throwing a gleefully evil grin over his shoulder, “and no one is going to believe you.”

Gem’s jaw dropped, his hearts thudding hard inside his chest as he practically tripped onto the train with a shrieked, “Rusty!”

And oh, how the Pyclon laughed.