NO LOITERING
Lena Moreno pursed her lips at the “No Loitering” sign that now hung, laminated, and boldly printed, on the wall. A companion to the new café policy that had been waiting for her and the rest of the staff from the Deadwood Books manager, William Litton, before he left for the day.
Well, that felt passive-aggressive.
Any person or being in the bookstore, or adjoining café, for over two hours who has not made a purchase, will be asked to either make a purchase or to please leave.
Running her hands frustratedly through her short, curly hair, Lena shut her eyes and sighed before reaching for a rag to wipe down the café counter. She’d been trying to ignore it since the moment she’d seen it. Determined to distract herself, she’d buried herself in the day-to-day tasks of her job. But, as she restocked pastries and disposable coffee cups, those words kept echoing in her head.
Any person or being.
That felt targeted.
Lena watched her girlfriend, Callie, wander through the shelves. Like she’d been doing since Lena’s shift started, an hour and fifty-eight minutes ago. Like she always did while Lena was at work. As a muse, Callie loved the bookstore, as well as the coffee shop. No matter the time of day, there seemed to always be someone inside waiting, wishing, for a little inspiration. And Callie was always only too happy to oblige.
Lena could see her coworkers’ gazes flick from Callie to Lena nervously. Lena knew that, according to policy, someone would have to do something. And it should be her. She was the café manager and Callie was her girlfriend.
Lena hated being in this position. It reminded her too much of all the times she, as a Latinx woman, had ever been scrutinized or profiled in stores or by security. Growing up being treated as if she didn’t belong, as if her very presence was suspect, simply for being brown, made her never want anyone to feel like that. Especially not her own girlfriend.
But policy was policy. Either she enforced it or someone else would. And, while she didn’t think any of her coworkers — not even William — would be cruel about it, being asked to leave, being told that your existence in a space you thought you had every right to be in — should have had every right to be in — was incriminating was humiliating. Better it come from Lena than some other, random employee. Right?
So she braced herself, forcing her body to stand a little taller, before heading over to Callie.
Her knees felt weak as she stepped out from behind the counter. Her stomach churning, she made her way through the café tables. She wiped her clammy hands on her Deadwood Books apron as she approached Callie, who was peeking over the shoulder of some person looking at the array of notebooks by the checkout counters.
Lena took a steadying breath. “Callie?”
It shouldn’t be, not after years of being together, but it was still a little striking whenever Callie looked at her. Lena lost her voice for a moment, only able to stare. Callie’s maple-shaded hair somehow shone under the fluorescent lights as if sunshine followed her everywhere. When her deep, teakwood eyes blinked at Lena, a bashful flutter replaced the heavy unease in Lena’s gut. And, when her full, pink lips smiled, Lena wanted nothing more than to lean down for a kiss, workplace decorum be damned.
It should have made things easier.
But it didn’t.
“Did you need something?” Callie’s voice was melodic.
Lena swallowed, trying to find her own voice. She could feel everyone’s gaze on her. All her coworkers. Even the person browsing the notebooks paused to listen in.
Lena glanced at the clock. Two hours and three minutes had passed. She had to say something. If she didn’t, she’d be in violation of store policy. She could be written up or even fired for this. And she needed this job. They both did.
Callie, while beautiful and smart and charismatic in that way only a demi-goddess could be, wasn’t exactly a good fit for the modern workspace. She was an effervescent embodiment of inspiration, overflowing with this necessary and wonderful but essentially chaotic force. As her one foray into the corporate landscape taught her when someone needed inspiration, it almost always felt great to finally find it, boosting productivity and exceeding project expectations. But, too much quickly got distracting, if not overwhelming, and could, within days, upend an entire office, making interns start revolts over mail delivery duties and CFOs leave partnership positions to start their own fashion lines.
It was actually one of the reasons why she and Lena worked so well together. Lena wasn’t a creator. She wasn’t particularly ambitious. She didn’t paint or sculpt. She wasn’t a student or a philosopher or in search of life’s great answers. She was the type who would much rather enjoy a good book than write one. Lena had always thought of herself as remarkably unremarkable. And, while pretty much every other person she’d ever dated found that boring, it let Callie feel… well, normal.
It wasn’t that Callie didn’t love being a muse. Of course, she did. Inspiring people wasn’t just something she did but was who she was. She was proud to be part of a timeless tradition of moving humanity forward, of shaping unspoken dreams into something people could share.
But so often it felt like her magic was the first, and often only, thing people — both magical and not — saw, for better or worse. There were always too many people expecting her to be and act a certain way. It was a juggling act, trying to navigate it. And, with the weight of all that, especially in a world that was more comfortable relegating Callie’s existence to ancient mythology than modern reality, it was nice to come home and feel no more and no less herself.
Callie had once told her that, even after having read and inspired countless romance stories filled with enormous and dramatic grand gestures of love, the most romantic thing she could think of was a partner who made the hard stuff easier. Who made her feel safe in a world that, for a multitude of reasons, didn’t always.
If she was honest, it often made Lena feel guilty, to be heroized for doing what felt like so little. Show up. Be a supportive partner. It never felt like enough. Callie deserved to be showered with gifts and effusive expressions of affection. But Lena wasn’t a grand gesture kind of girl. She never knew what to do and felt silly trying to be something she wasn’t. And, as guilty as she sometimes felt, she was grateful that Callie never expected her to be more or less than she was.
However, if ever a grand gesture was needed, it was now. Right? Here was this rigorous policy and it was her job, as Callie’s girlfriend in shining armor, to slay the danger ahead. To fix the things and make the hard stuff easier.
So Lena licked her lips. “I, uh...”
If only she knew what to do or how to do it.
Feeling like she’d stepped into knight-sized shoes that just didn’t fit, Lena stuck her hands into her apron pockets, the odds and ends she kept in there brushing her fingers. Her hands clutched her pen and pad that she kept for inventory notes and, in a flash of inspiration, she bolted up straight. “I was going to bring you something. Did you want a drink or a snack?”
Callie smiled. “That’s so sweet! Thanks.” She thought a bit before giving Lena her order.
Feeling as if she’d both cleverly cheated the system yet also foolishly lost to it, Lena took down the order on her pad, even though it wasn’t as if she’d forget it during the fifteen-feet walk from the shelves back to the café. It didn’t change the fact that the policy still felt unfair and wrong, but buying Callie something from the café herself was technically a legitimate loophole in the new policy.
It still didn’t feel like a victory. Hell, Lena didn’t even want to tell Callie about it; why, when it would only remind them both that their life — their love and happiness together — often came at a cost. “Great!” Lena plastered a smile on her face. Maybe Lena couldn’t fix that, but she would do what she could to shield Callie from it. And, really, it seemed a small price to pay, especially when she factored in her employee discount if it meant not having to be the person who made Callie feel unwelcome or unwanted. “I’ll be right back with this.”
It was a solution, sure.
Then why, as Lena headed back behind the counter, didn’t anything feel fixed?
* * *
It’d been a slow day.
Callie hadn’t exactly been keeping count, but it felt as if there had been fewer people in the café today and the few who’d been there hadn’t stayed long.
Callie blamed the “No Loitering” signs hanging up all over the store. She’d noticed the one in the café first. Then more had cropped up by the bathrooms. Then by the entrance. Over the course of a couple of days, suddenly the signs seemed to be in every nook and cozy corner of the store, silently shaming people for overstaying their welcome.
How was a muse supposed to work, if there weren’t people present to inspire? She sighed and sat down at one of the tables.
“Can I get you a drink?”
Callie winced at the sound of William’s voice.
The man stared down at her, disapproval clear in his eyes. “Or a pastry. We have some seasonal soups and sandwiches right now as well.”
Callie forced a smile. “May I have a glass for water please?” She watched the manager’s face tense.
William crossed his arms over his chest. “We have flavored water. May I recommend the lavender-and-blueberry-infused energy spritzer?”
Callie’s spine stiffened. William was well aware of who she was. What she was. He knew that muses didn’t carry money. Why would they? Aside from the rare exception, muses didn’t make much money. This wasn’t a calling that one did for personal gain. Being a muse was a labor of love. It was the love of story and art personified. But, even though it might sustain and satisfy her on a psychic well-being level, it didn’t exactly pay enough for luxuries. Callie’s smile felt both sweet and sharp. “No, thank you.”
William frowned and walked away.
Callie shook her head and turned her attention to the other people in the space. Callie dismissed the group of sleepy, stressed-out, summer-semester college students. While they were often good for a term paper or end-of-course presentation, pre-test cram sessions rarely required Callie’s brand of inspiration. Same with the mall-workers on break. Even the photographer sorting through her latest shoot didn’t feel quite right. Callie worked better with words than images, better with stories than academics. It was why she liked to linger in bookstores.
Except Deadwood Books seemed...well, pretty dead today and she supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers. About to settle on the photographer, she suddenly felt something.
Ah, there it was.
She turned to one of the students who was staring off into space, a sweet-faced boy with too-long hair. A classic daydreamer. Callie leaned in and closed her eyes, opening herself to that liminal space where her powers met his ideas. She smiled at his thoughts. A girl. Of course. Callie’s eyes dreamily blinked open, only half-seeing the blond girl reciting from her notes across the table from the boy. Callie could still see her as she was — pretty and outgoing — but, more than that, she saw how he saw her. The way her fingers twirled in her hair seemed to invite thoughts of how soft the twining lengths must be. Her voice was confident, ringing with the sound of truth regardless of what she said.
From his head to Callie’s, she saw him imagine what it would be like to approach the blond girl at the end of the study session. The rest of the group would disperse, leaving only them at the table. He’d ask if he could buy the girl a coffee. He didn’t even know how he would, what exact words he’d use, but he imagined himself being clever and undeniable. Her blushing acceptance was something he couldn’t quite picture in his head but was something he’d clearly thought about a lot.
Callie could feel his hope and fear and desire all wrapped up in that one thought. It was almost overwhelming. She took a breath and pushed, making his visions clearer, adding details to the dream. The possibility of the girl’s acceptance felt more thrilling, shaping her lips into a knowing, excited smile. And the possibility of her rejection sharpened, a cutting laugh slicing through him. Callie could feel his mind reel, filling and swirling with both — all — prospects.
“Here you are.” William placed the tiniest plastic cup only half-full of water on the table in front of Callie, tearing her from the boy’s mind.
Callie had to fight not to scowl. She looked up at the man, the new “No Loitering” sign framed by his stiff shoulders. Even Callie could recognize the unspoken, yet crystal-clear message. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Is there something else I can help you with? Help you find a book?”
Callie simply smiled, her face feeling as if it were about to break. “No. Thank you.” Her words sounded clipped and insincere even to her own ears.
William shook his head. “If you’re not going to buy a book or something at the café, I’ll have to ask you to please leave.”
Callie balked. “You’re kicking me out?” Why? She wasn’t hurting anyone. On the contrary. She was inspiring people.
And, okay, it wasn’t like the boy ignoring his textbook was going to pen the next great American novel or anything. But, who knew, maybe their relationship would inspire the blond to.
“This is a business.” William’s tone felt patronizing as if he were speaking down to her. “If you’re not going to buy something, you have no business being here.”
As a muse, Callie rolled her eyes at that. She could imagine him coming up with that phrase and feeling so clever. He seemed the type to ponder putting that kind of thing on a bumper sticker or break room poster.
Callie huffed. Being a muse would be so much easier if she could be ethereal, could be invisible.
But ever since the magical community decided to step out of the shadows and try to coexist with the humans, things had gotten complicated. Things that had been taken for granted since the dawn of time were now being called into question. It didn’t matter that beings like muses and fairies and nymphs had all worked in the world beyond the vision of man, doing necessary things like maintaining the cycles of seasons and society. No, now, while still shouldering the grand burden of balancing the cosmos, they were now expected to be bound by such mundanities as privacy laws, personal boundaries, and, apparently, loitering rules.
Medusa’s head, Callie was a creative spirit! She should be free to go wherever she liked and touch the minds and hearts of whoever called her. She and her kind had shaped the course of human history; how had they been caught in fate’s puppet strings? “But I haven’t done anything wrong, ” she finally said.
“That’s for me to decide.” William turned to tap the digital tablet in his hand. “As it is, you’ve wasted enough of my time today. As manager of Deadwood Books, I have the right to refuse service to anyone, for any reason. I’ve asked you to please make a purchase or leave. Please do so.”
“Or what?” Callie wondered, her brow furrowing.
He bristled and raised his voice, making her flinch. “Please don’t cause a scene.”
Callie looked around and, even though she didn’t think she had been causing a scene, she noticed the table of students had stopped studying. The photographer was no longer looking at her pictures. Even some of the bookstore shoppers had stopped to watch. She could feel them all stare as a heavy hush swept over the store.
Feeling vulnerable and exposed, Callie couldn’t block out their thoughts. In a jumble of suspicion and gossipy curiosity, she could hear people wonder if she was a criminal, if she’d shoplifted or vandalized something. Some even scrutinized her face, wondering if she was one of the many wanted criminals they’d seen splashed across the news. After all, no one was asked to leave by management unless they’d done, or were, something wrong, right?
A few of the store employees had been expecting this kind of confrontation for hours, some for days. Their thoughts were a dizzying mix of guilt, pity, and voyeuristic glee.
Callie could feel tears well up inside her. It was all just too much. She couldn’t stand to see herself through all their eyes, to have their speculations and distortions erase who she was and mold her into only what they wanted to see her as. She tried to shut it all out, but she couldn’t.
“Either make a purchase or please leave the store,” William continued, “or I can call the police.”
The police? Was he kidding? Except she knew he wasn’t. “For what?” Except she knew that too. Even though she knew she wasn’t breaking any laws, William didn’t see it that way. He saw her and her kind as an invasion. He saw all supernatural beings as inherently unnatural. He didn’t trust her or anyone like her and certainly didn’t want them anywhere near him.
“For causing a disturbance.”
Since when was sitting in a coffee shop a disturbance? If anything, he was the one causing a raucous. Not that the cops were likely to see it that way. After the reveal of supernatural beings, often with supernatural powers, the public, and especially the police, had begun to view all magical beings with suspicion. Even beings like her, with passive powers that couldn’t possibly hurt anyone, made people nervous. No one liked the idea of creatures who could creep into a person’s mind, learning all their thoughts and secrets, and use that to influence them.
It didn’t matter that she could only stoke the flames of inspiration for ideas that were already inside a person. It didn’t matter that muses had been a subtle, shifting presence in society since the beginning of time, far before humans ever became aware of it. It didn’t matter that, in all that time, muses had never caused anyone harm. Humans were all so scared of what she might find in their heads. Or what suggestions she might leave behind.
And, with cops, it wasn’t so much that she had the right to remain silent as they would do what they must to keep her quiet, afraid that anything she said or did could be used against them. Callie had heard stories from other beings like her — of species profiling or even human rights violations, not that they were human — and, as she imagined those kinds of things happening to her, an instinctive fear shivered through her even as embarrassed anger seethed.
Okay, this had all obviously gotten out of hand. Callie needed to calm down. Needed to calm William down. She looked around. “Where’s Lena?” She could help. Lena, even as a human, had her own kind of magic that seemed to soothe and calm people. She was good at that. Surely, she could explain things to him.
“She’s working.” William frowned. “And, unless you’re going to purchase something from her, it’s inappropriate to be bothering her while she’s on the clock.”
Inappropriate? To talk to her own girlfriend?
Callie opened her mouth to challenge him, but he cut her off. “Lena has a job to do and she can’t do it, if she’s constantly being distracted by you. And, if she can’t do her job, I’ll need to find someone else who can.”
Callie stiffened again, her eyes narrowing. Was he threatening Lena? Callie hated the idea of being a burden to Lena, but she couldn’t deny that dating her often made things difficult for Lena. There were a lot of people in the world who were still adjusting to discovering magic existed in the world and not all of them welcomed the knowledge. And you could never be sure who those people were — your boss or your mother or your neighbor or your waiter — until they said or did something that made it painfully clear.
Callie had lived with it her whole life, but Lena hadn’t. Sure, as a woman of color, Lena had dealt with discrimination too. But at least when people told her she wasn’t human, wasn’t deserving of basic human rights, she didn’t have to deal with the sting of truth that, strictly speaking, they were right.
Callie wasn’t human. And, throughout the course of magical history, her people had been treated inhumanely. Sometimes for the better, being worshiped as gods. Other times for worse, being hunted as monsters or burned as heretics. It had been why, for a long time, they’d hidden away, relegated themselves to myths and legends.
But, for better or worse, they were out now, unable to hide in this digital, hyper-aware world, filled with cellphone cameras, high-speed internet, and twenty-four-hour news channels. And they all, human and magical alike, would have to deal with it.
But Callie would not make Lena pay the price for William’s feelings toward Callie’s kind. He could hate her all he liked, Callie did not care. But he would not threaten Lena over it. That was it! She stood up, her fists balling tightly. “I want to speak to your manager.”
William shook his head. “I am the manager.”
She knew that. Hades knew he loved to throw his weight around enough to never let anyone forget. “But I want to speak to whoever is above you.” Like the district or regional manager. Or even Deadwood Books corporate. “This is harassment.” He couldn’t kick her out of the store for no reason and he certainly couldn’t threaten his employee.
“Well, you can’t.” William puffed his chest out. “What you can do is leave. Immediately.”
Make me.
The words, childish and clichéd as they were, burned on her tongue. But, just as she was about to hurl them at William, she saw Lena rush toward them. She placed a cup of coffee in front of Callie so fast the dark brew sloshed over the rim of the cup and onto the table. “Sorry, it took me a bit longer than I thought to get you your drink. But here you go.”
Callie’s shoulders relaxed, Lena’s mere presence seeming to ease the tension inside her. She didn’t care what anyone said; sometimes, some mortals were positively magic. She wanted to reach out, to touch Lena. To even just hold her hand. But she had a feeling that displays of affection in front of this man would be taken as a sign of weakness rather than strength and, in the end, would end up hurting Lena the most.
So instead, she took comfort from the stalwart stiffness of Lena’s spine, and the steady weight of her hand on the back of Callie’s chair as her caffeinated savior turned to glare at William. “Is there a problem here?”
William’s gaze zeroed in on the coffee cup on the table and sneered. “No problem.”
Yet.
Callie didn’t need special powers to hear the thought in the man’s head. She could read it all over his face and, she knew, this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
* * *
Lena stared at the latest new policy pinned to the employee news board.
Employees may only use their company discount on two café items per shift.
Crap.
Lena had never been the best with math, but even she could add up those numbers. She’d already been stressing over the past few days’ tallied-up totals. Even if she bought the cheapest, most basic item on the menu — just a small, black coffee — with her discount, every two hours, for forty hours a week, it all added up quickly. As it was, she and Callie were barely making ends meet. The added expense was barely doable.
Subtract her discount and she didn’t know what she was going to do.
Maybe it was time to revisit the idea of Callie working again. But then they’d have to talk about it and Lena had been avoiding that from the start.
Sure, they’d talked a bit about the sudden appearance of the signs and, after the incident, they’d discussed William, but it made Lena really uncomfortable. She hated that there were people in the world who hated Callie, not for who she was but what they thought she was. Nothing made her feel more helpless than the fact that the world didn’t accept Callie or their relationship and there was precious little Lena could do about it.
While buying Callie a coffee or scone every two hours was her way of trying to fix the problem, it made Lena feel awful that she had to do it in the first place and that her so-called solution felt like trying to strap a Band-Aid on a broken world.
Some grand hero she was. Lena sighed.
She’d left Callie in the sci-fi section, who’d been drawn by some summer-break teenager researching cryptids for a comic he was thinking about starting. Knowing her, she could keep him bouncing from book to book, ravenous for information, for inspiration, all day.
If she could. If she was allowed.
Except, when Lena walked out onto the sales floor, there was William, with his ever-present tablet clutched in his hands. He caught her eye over the top of his frameless glasses. He held up his tablet so she could see it. She watched as the timer on his tablet counted down the hours, minutes, and seconds Callie had been in the store.
Lena’s hands fisted at her side.
Jerk.
He put a timer on Callie! Was he timing anyone else in the store? What about the college students who wasted away hours between classes studying? Or the afterschool or summer-break teens who scoured the shelves for anything even remotely resembling porn?
Lena rolled her eyes. To be honest, William probably wouldn’t set a timer specifically for them — that he reserved just for Callie, apparently — but he was probably thrilled with the prospect of having the authority to shoo them out of his store as well. He was probably wondering why he hadn’t thought of that before. It was a handy way for him to rid himself of all the people — and beings — he deemed undesirable.
Lena was well aware of what William thought about Callie. Lena’s coworker, Hannah, was sure that William was prejudiced against non-humans, considering some of his past policies and behavior toward non-human customers and the fact that none of the non-humans who’d applied to the store ever seemed to meet his standards. But he seemed to have a particular problem with Callie.
Lord knew he’d brought it up to Lena enough times over the two and a half years she’d been working at the café.
Not that he didn’t have a point sometimes — the bookstore and café weren’t a public space for gathering; they were a business after all — but Callie wasn’t hurting anyone. She was helping people. Kinda. Maybe.
Lena assumed that Callie did. It was all a little fuzzy to her. Lena had never actually needed Callie to do her muse-thing on her. She’d seen Callie do it to countless people, but it was always a little different with each person. Different with each work.
Sometimes, it was like flipping a switch. She’d seen people go from wanting to smash their laptops or burn their notebooks rather than stare at the blank nothingness for one more second to, with just a look or a touch from Callie, burning a hole in the pages with a firestorm of words.
Other times, she’d see it sneak up on a person.
Lena watched as Callie’s head turned toward a little girl, maybe five or six years old, who was fussing in line, while her mother tried to order an out-of-print book. Lena knew that red-faced look puffing the child’s cheeks. She was five seconds from throwing an absolutely spectacular tantrum, her tiny sneakers kicking at the carpet as she wriggled impatiently by her stressed-out mother. Lena smiled as Callie breezed past, causing a rhyming dictionary on the impulse buy table to fall on the floor at the girl’s feet.
The little girl paused and picked up the book. Confusion turned to wonder on the girl’s face as she paged through it, softly speaking each word and marveling at the sounds. It was such a small thing, an inconsequential moment, yet it felt miraculous. Like Lena was watching the origin story of a great poet or songwriting sensation. She had a strange feeling that one day she’d hear that girl tell that story in a televised interview or in front of a sold-out stadium.
Lena was a mortal; she didn’t think she was supposed to understand magic — the how’s or why’s of it all — but she recognized a miracle when she saw one. One worth protecting, whatever the cost.
Lena turned at a sharp tap behind her. William held up his tablet.
Two hours had passed.
And, so it seemed, had the time for magic.
Lena hated that William could so easily steal that feeling from her. That he seemed to be stealing her whole life from her. Lena was exhausted. She felt like all she did these days was work and sleep and worry. She tried to put on a good face for Callie, to act like nothing was wrong, but it was all starting to take a toll — taking on the extra expenses, handling William alone, making sure Callie never found out. It was all too much. Callie deserved a world that didn’t hate her and this was the only way Lena knew how to give it to her, but the stress was wearing on her and she knew she wouldn’t be able to keep going like this.
Callie and everything she brought to Lena’s life was worth any cost, but neither of them deserved this. There had to be a better way. Lena just wished she knew what the hell it was.
* * *
Callie rode mutely in the car next to her silent girlfriend on the way home. Once back in their apartment, Callie cooked quietly in the kitchen all by herself, after Lena wordlessly walked away to lock herself in the bedroom. During dinner, Callie sat next to Lena and ate her food as soundlessly as possible, each chew and swallow seeming so loud in the taciturn tension.
Because they were two women in an interspecies relationship, it didn’t always feel safe or welcome to show affection in public. Even when they first started dating, Callie’s family worried Lena might turn on Callie, if the relationship went badly, using the public’s distrust of magical beings against her, and Lena’s friends worried over how she could know — for sure — that Callie wasn’t using magic to snare her. Even among strangers, they just never knew whether some passerby might make something so beautiful as a kiss or an embrace into something dirty with a word or a stare. Or, Hestia forbids, something worse.
But, at home, they could be themselves. They could be and do and say whatever they wanted. So, in an apartment that was more often than not filled with laughter, chatter, and affection, the distant silence felt almost violent as it stormed through the space stealing the couple’s usually happy, homey sounds.
Was she still mad about the incident with William? Callie knew she shouldn’t have lost her temper, but she couldn’t help it. Lena had said she was fine with it, that she understood how Callie felt, but maybe things had gotten worse at work since then. What if William had taken his frustration out on Lena?
Callie should say something. As a muse, even from the kitchen as she finished washing the dishes, she could feel Lena’s mind search for words as she paced the bedroom floor. Lena had something she needed to say and, well, helping people express themselves was what Callie did best. So she wiped her hands on the dishtowel and made her way to the bedroom.
She knocked on the door. “Is everything okay?” She heard Lena shuffle in the other room. “Do you want to talk about it?”
A sigh came from the other side of the door before it opened. Lena stood grim-faced against the jamb. “We need to talk.”
Callie knew they did but, after so much silence, the words sounded so ominous. She wanted to close her eyes, to slip into Lena’s mind, and take a peek at the words and thoughts forming there. To use her powers and the knowledge she’d find there as a shield against whatever words were coming her way.
But she wouldn’t. Eyes defiantly wide, she walked into the room when Lena opened the door. She wouldn’t use her powers against Lena. She shouldn’t need a shield against her girlfriend. Lena would never hurt her. She loved Lena and Lena loved her. So Callie entered the room, trying to feel open to that love rather than left vulnerable in the silence.
Her eyes caught on a piece of paper, a small square ripped from the notepad Lena always carried around with her at work, with numbers scribbled all over it. Callie frowned. She was really more of a word muse than a numbers one. She knew that science and math took inspiration too, but it’d never been her strong suit.
Lena shook her head wearily, her short, thick hair falling over her face as it veiled her downcast eyes. “You can’t come to the café anymore.”
Callie frowned. “Why not?”
Callie listened while Lena explained the new policies that William had implemented along with his signs. Hateful man. She’d noticed him glaring at her whenever he was on-shift. She knew he didn’t like her, didn’t want her in his store. But to create new rules to keep her out seemed excessive.
She crossed her arms over her chest. If she couldn’t go to work with Lena, where else was she going to find such a high concentration of writers and artists than a bookstore coffee shop? “How can he do this?”
Lena shrugged. “As long as we can’t prove the new rules are discriminatory — and since they apply to any person or being, we can’t — he can pretty much do whatever he likes, so long as it doesn’t affect the store’s sales performance.”
Callie began to pace. “But, without beings like me, there wouldn’t even be any books for him to sell in the first place.” He needed her. Or at least muses like her.
Lena nodded. “I know, but I don’t think that argument will convince him. Even if you could get him to agree that muses actually inspire authors like that, he’d argue that you don’t have to do it in his store.”
Callie threw up her arms. “But why can’t I do it in his precious store? I’m not hurting anyone by being there.”
Lena winced.
Callie stopped and stared at her. “What?” She could feel a flood of unsaid words churn in Lena’s mind. “What?”
Lena hunched her shoulders, bowing her head low. “Look, you know I love having you around, but it’s not like he doesn’t kind of have a point.”
Callie arched an eyebrow at that. “A point?”
Lena cringed. “Well, you spend all day taking up table-space in the café or wandering around the shelves, never buying anything and encouraging — compelling — other people to do the same. I mean, Deadwood Books is a business, not a public park.”
It shouldn’t hurt. They were just talking. But Callie ached, hearing Lena side with that spiteful man. Hearing his words cut from her mouth.
Lena plopped down on the bed frustratedly. “More nights than not, we’ve had to stay open long after closing time because you and your muser-of-the-day weren’t ready to leave yet.” She sat up straighter. “Oh, remember, that one guy who, I swear, wrote from open to close, went home, fell asleep, then came back to do it all over again for a straight week. He didn’t look like he’d eaten, much less bathed, that entire time.” She gave a disgusted sniff at the memory. “He chased away customers just by being in the store.”
Callie cringed. Oh yeah. That guy. He, like well-aged cheese or fish cooked in an office microwave, had been an acquired taste that could probably only really be appreciated by the one enjoying the meal. But, by Zeus, it’d been so good. His imagination had been so vivid and bold. Admittedly, she may have indulged a bit too much with him. She looked at Lena sheepishly. “What if I promise to be better about that kind of thing? Do you think William could be convinced to let me stay?”
Lena shook her head. “You know how William is. Once his mind is made up, you won’t change it unless it starts costing him money.” Lena sighed sadly, reaching out a hand to her. Callie took it and sat down on the bed, gripping Lena’s hand as she rubbed her thumb across the back of Callie’s knuckles. Lena brought Callie’s hand to her lips with a sorrowful resignation. “And, since he won’t change, we have to. I’m sorry, but we just can’t afford to have you be at the café all day. I’ve done the math. Even if it was just a small cup of black coffee every two hours, with two of those cups using my employee discount a day, we’d need to change our monthly budget too much to make it work. We can’t reduce our rent or utilities, so we’d have to cut down on our food bill as well as on most luxuries.”
Callie’s grip on Lena’s hand tightened, needing the connection. “But, if I don’t go to the café, how will I inspire people?” She needed to do that. Not only because it was part of who she was, her reason for being, but it brought in money as well. Sure, it wasn’t much but, every time someone she inspired sold a piece of their work, a portion of all those little hidden taxes and fees — that no one except the cosmic accountants of fate could really explain too closely or very well — went to her. It wasn’t exactly steady or reliable income, but it certainly wasn’t nothing. Sure, some months it’d be a few hundred dollars here and there, but at least a few times a year there’d be a sudden and inexplicable surge. And it all added up. If she stopped doing that, not only did she wonder if she could psychically survive the loss — she was a muse, after all — she didn’t think they would financially make it either. “Can we really afford for me not to go?”
Lena groaned and shut her eyes. “I hadn’t thought about that.” She huffed. “Well, you could always go to another café.”
“Until I get kicked out of that one.” If William could do that to her, the girlfriend of one of his employees, why would a random stranger treat her any better?
Lena winced and wrapped her arms around Callie’s slumped shoulders. “I don’t know if we have any other choice.” She rested her chin on the crown of Callie’s head. “Unless I quit my job.”
Callie sat back and looked at her quizzically. “That solves our money troubles how?” She may not be good with numbers, but even she knew an unsatisfying job made more money than no job at all.
Lena shrugged. “I mean, I’d find another one, of course.” She winced again. “Eventually.”
Callie couldn’t ask Lena to do that. It was sweet of her to offer and she loved Lena for it, but it wasn’t worth it. She leaned against Lena and laid her head against the other woman’s shoulder. “No, you’re right. Tomorrow, I’ll find somewhere else to go.” Maybe the library or the community college, even though those tended to be frequented more by readers than writers, consumers rather than creators.
But, looking at Lena, Callie knew it was worth figuring out another way. She loved Lena, loved the life that they had together. But life often changed and, if she didn’t change with it, she risked losing everything. And she didn’t want to lose Lena. Lena was worth any effort.
With that decided, Callie was in the mood to leave this world behind for a nicer, less complicated one for a bit. So she leaned closer to Lena, kissing her cheek, then the corners of her lips, before finally sealing Lena’s mouth with her own. She took a deep breath, the steady strength of Lena’s body as comforting as the sweet, floral scent of her shampoo and as exciting as the heat of their kiss. She closed her eyes, wrapped her arms around Lena’s waist, and smiled. “Read to me?”
Lena smiled and kissed Callie’s lips again, before reaching for the book on her bedside table and settling against the pillows. Callie curled up next to her, making space for herself in the crook of Lena’s elbow. The feel of their bodies pressed close soothed her in a way nothing else could. The sound of Lena’s voice, a little monotone but so sure, washed over her. Callie probably shouldn’t like it, was sure most people wouldn’t. Lena wasn’t a performer. But that was kind of the point. This wasn’t for some audience, it wasn’t something practiced or meant to be shared. It was a moment just for the two of them. It was something that Lena only did — would only do — for Callie and that made it special, almost sacred. On that bed, with their bodies entwined and her eyes shut, Callie let Lena’s imagination fill and soothe her while the world slipped away until there was nothing else.
* * *
Hannah leaned over the café counter and frowned at Lena. “I haven’t seen your girl around here lately. Where’s she been?”
Lena shrugged and kept restocking the pastry case. “She’s been trying out some other bookstores and cafés.” Last week, Callie had been rotating between the library, a mall bookstore, and a college coffee shop, hoping that avoiding being a familiar face in any given place would help her fly under the radar.
At first, she’d seemed really excited about it. Had seen it as a kind of adventure or exploration. But Lena knew Callie was a being of habit. She liked having a space that felt like her own. A sacred space of sorts. And, with every passing day, Lena could see the lack of that start to take a toll on Callie.
Lena hated it too. Sure, William and his “no loitering” policy were awful, but at least they were the awful she knew. Lena could be there to help mitigate some of the horribleness. She could play interference with William. Could take advantage of loopholes in the rules.
But, with Callie out of the shop, there was nothing Lena could do. What if Callie wasn’t as under the radar as she’d hoped. What if some other uppity manager rudely asked her to leave, or even forcefully kicked her out? What if they called the cops? Lena couldn’t be there to watch over her anymore. Stuck here, all Lena could do all day was worry about Callie and hope she was all right.
Hannah looked at Lena sympathetically. “William’s a jerk.” She sighed. “Callie knows none of us would narc on her, right?”
Lena smiled. “Thanks.” She knew they wouldn’t if they didn’t have to. But none of them could protect Callie forever. If William found out that people weren’t following his new rules, they’d all get in trouble. And she couldn’t ask anyone to risk losing their jobs for them.
“God, that really sucks!” Hannah huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “I mean, of course, it’s unfair and William’s a bigot.” Hannah’s nose crinkled as she slanted Lena a slightly guilty look. “Is it awful that I was really hoping Callie would help me out with the story I’m working on? I’ve been stuck on the ending for days now and she, you know, just by being there, does that thing she does.”
Inspires people. Lena smiled. Yeah, she was good at that.
Hannah shrugged. “A couple other people have been asking too. Dave and Freddie were looking for her help the other day. A couple of customers have been asking around too. Even more, have been just making vague comments about something being off about the place lately.”
Lena nodded. The teen from the other day had come back to buy the books he’d been looking at about cryptids but had thrown an unholy fit because none of the books on the shelves seemed the same now. He’d been so sure that they were different books, complaining that the pictures didn’t seem as vibrant or the text as dynamic. He’d yelled at Freddie about how he’d sold a bunch of his stuff so he could raise the money to buy all the books he’d need only to find the books had changed. Poor Freddie had tried to explain that they hadn’t changed that section’s stock, but how could Freddie hope to explain the inexplicable.
The books hadn’t changed. The bookstore had. There was something — someone — missing.
Hannah leaned over the counter again, before whispering, “Callie’s been trying out new locations, huh?” Hannah shrugged casually, but Lena could see the strain of desperation in her shoulders. “So, where’s she at today?”
Lena laughed at Hannah’s lack of subtlety and told her, while the beginnings of an intriguing thought brewed in her head.
* * *
Callie jumped as the front door slammed open. “Callie!”
Oh no. Callie sucked in a breath and wondered what had happened now.
“Callie!”
She stood up slowly, but couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She knew that she should go see what Lena wanted, but she just didn’t know how much more she could take.
It hadn’t been a good day. She’d been at the local college’s library today but had to leave early when her inspiration had started a… small struggle over research papers. Who knew that sleep deprivation and deadlines made it so hard for college students to share? She’d snuck out as soon as the campus police showed up to stop the fight and check everyone in the library for a school ID.
She hated feeling so out of control. How had inspiring people, this wonderful gift she was born to do, become so complicated? When exactly had it begun to feel like a crime?
“Callie?”
She turned to see Lena peeking her head into the kitchen.
At the sight of her, Lena frowned and walked into the room, coming up to touch Callie’s face gently, her thumb brushing against the corners of her frowning mouth. “Are you okay?”
Callie shook her head and forced herself to smile. “I’m fine.” She had to be. For Lena, she would be, whatever the cost. She turned back to the pot of spaghetti sauce that sat simmering and forgotten on the stove. “What’s up?”
Lena gave her one last unconvinced look before stepping away to pace the room a bit. “Okay, so I had a thought at work today.” She took a deep breath. “What if you could come back to the café?”
Callie furrowed her brow and began to stir the pot. “What are you talking about?”
Lena’s pacing increased, her form moving restlessly in Callie’s periphery. “What if there was a way for you to stay at the café that played by William’s every rule?”
Callie said nothing, she just stared as the sauce bubbled. She recognized this state well enough. The frantic movements. The jumbled thoughts. Lena was on the verge of a eureka moment. It was on the edges of her mind, just out of grasp but felt more real than anything in this world.
All she needed was a push.
Callie sighed. Okay. She turned down the stove and faced Lena. “And what way would that be?”
Lena smiled. “What if you worked at the café?”
Callie scoffed, leaning her back against the countertop and crossing her arms over her chest. “Work for William?” Never. Not only would he never hire her, she’d never apply.
“No.” Lena stepped closer, her speech slowing as if she were imparting some great wisdom. “What if you inspired people at the café as your job?”
Callie shook her head. “What are you talking about?”
Lena’s face scrunched up a bit. “I’m not altogether certain yet. But I know that Hannah was willing to scour the college campus in search of you today. Dave and Freddie too. And all three of them know at least another person who’d pay for your brand of inspiration.” She smiled. “So why not let them?”
Charge for inspiration? Callie shook her head vigorously. No. She turned back to the stove, the mix of garlic, tomatoes, and basil filling her senses. No, that wasn’t how being a muse worked. Being paid to do what she did would cheapen it.
Wouldn’t it?
Callie bit her lip. “How would that even work?”
Lena waved her hand dismissively. “I don’t have all the answers, but what if people seeking inspiration bought you something from the café?”
Callie went back to stirring the pot if just to give her hands something to do. “I don’t know.” It just didn’t feel right. “I’ve never taken money from the people I inspire.” She frowned into the now cooling sauce, so still without its simmering bubbles. “I mean royalties are one thing.” That was getting her share of the cut. Upfront payment was another. She sighed and shut the stove off completely. “I mean, what if their poem never gets published or no one buys their book.” She’ll have taken their money and given back nothing of any real consequence. It didn’t feel right.
Callie leaned back when she felt Lena’s arms wrap around her, the warmth of the other woman’s body comforting down to her soul. “I know it’s not a perfect fix.” Callie could feel the slight rumble of Lena’s voice, feel the heat of her breath, against her neck. “I wish I had one for you.” She sighed and gave Callie a squeeze. “But what if you thought of it like tithing.”
Callie turned her head at that. “Tithing?”
“Yeah,” Lena said as she rocked on her feet, making them both sway a bit as she thought, “you know, like how, in ancient times, people would leave offerings at temples and altars.”
“Yes.” Callie, as a goddess, was well aware of what tithing was.
“Well, think of this as a modern-day version of that. Two hours of inspiration for the price of a coffee? That sounds like a deal to me, right?”
She supposed, but there was something else to consider. “What about William?” She shook her head and leaned forward, away from Lena’s touch. “Even if this follows the rules, he’ll never allow it.” All he had to do was create new rules, new policies, and they both knew it.
“Then we’ll figure it out.” Lena touched Callie’s elbow and gently turned her around. “Together.”
Together. Callie shut her eyes and let herself get lost in that one word, the strength, and power of it. They could do it together, could be together. Wasn’t anything worth that?
Callie took a deep breath. “Okay, where do we start?”
Despite the fact that Callie still wasn’t sure about Lena’s grand scheme, the smile that spread across Lena’s face gave her hope.
So, when Lena asked Callie to inspire her, to use her powers on her, so they could turn Lena’s vague ideas into actual plans, she did. Even though she worked better plotting stories than she did plotting schemes, she sat down next to her at the kitchen table, while Lena laid out an old notepad. Callie didn’t understand why she felt so nervous. She’d done this countless times before.
But never with Lena.
It somehow felt more personal, more intimate with her. As she closed her eyes and opened herself to Lena, it was almost shocking to feel Lena’s thoughts flow into her mind. She could see the beginnings of a website, where people could schedule appointments with Callie. The images felt electric, laced with Lena’s excitement. Callie watched as Lena filled out page after page of the notebook, working out widgets and ad campaigns.
Callie had always thought that she knew everything there was to know about Lena. How she thought. How she felt. Why she did the things she did. But being in her thoughts gave Callie a whole new perspective. She never realized how often Lena second-guessed herself, too often shutting herself down out of self-doubt. It was such a gift to be the one who literally knocked down the walls that blocked Lena from her full potential. To be the one who let Lena dream.
They worked through dinner and well into the night. They argued the merits of one website builder versus another. They eagerly poured over site design customization. They gave up on trying to figure out a company name. For days, it went on like that. Getting up early to tweak the site before heading off to work. Lena put out quiet feelers at work, asking coworkers if they’d be interested in Callie’s services, while Callie put up flyers around the college campus and public library. Then they’d come home and brainstorm over dinner before turning on the laptop to turn their ideas into something more tangible.
But, even after all their hard work, when the day finally came to open shop, Callie was not sure about this.
It felt weird being back in the Deadwood Books coffee shop again. Which, in and of itself, felt weird, considering how much time she’d spent in the place over the years. But, after two weeks of not being here — of not being welcome here — it felt wrong being back.
Her eyes scanned the store.
Lena placed a hand on Callie’s shoulder and squeezed, making her body relax at the familiar, comforting touch. “It’s another couple of hours until William’s shift starts. He’s not here.” She shrugged. “And, even if he was…” She placed a small cup of coffee on the table next to Callie. “You have every right to be here.”
Callie smiled gratefully at Lena but kept her hands clutched in her lap, afraid to even touch the coffee.
“Hi.” A woman clutching a laptop came up to the table. “Callie, right? From Altared State?”
Lena nodded. “Yep, this is her.” She pulled out the chair across from Callie. “Why don’t you have a seat? And please remember, your session is for two hours, if you want additional time, you’ll need to log back onto the Altared State website and schedule another session, which may or may not be the next two hours, depending on availability.”
Altared State. An inspiration-on-demand site where, for the price of a coffee, a person could sit down in this humble altar to the written word with an honest-to-minor-goddess muse.
Callie adjusted a bit in her seat before taking the woman’s outstretched hand. “You must be Liza, you’ve got a magazine article that you need to finish by tomorrow, right?”
The woman nodded, shaking her hand. “That’s me. So how does this work? I’ve never used a muse service before. I’d never even heard about it before Hannah mentioned it to me the other day. She swears by you and I’m running up against my deadline, so I figured what could it hurt?” She nodded toward the coffee. “I see you have your drink already. So, what happens now?”
Callie smiled and closed her eyes, feeling her anxiety begin to ease as she slipped into Liza’s mind in a ritual that was as familiar and necessary to her as breathing. “Now, you open up your laptop and just work.”
* * *
Lena watched Callie shake hands with Dave before he closed his notebook and got ready for his shift. Lena was probably prouder of Altared State than she should have been, seeing as it wasn’t really her business, just her idea. Callie was the one doing all the heavy lifting, but Lena liked the idea of being a helping hand. A digital tithing site. She should have thought of it sooner.
Already she was toying with the idea of adding an after-session option, where a person could go back to the site and tip Callie if they’d felt extra-inspired. As she turned to make a new drink, she took advantage of all the inspiration in the air and toyed with the idea of adding a rate and review option to get a few testimonials on the site to entice new customers.
William walked up to Lena, looking down at her from the other side of the café counter. “You know this isn’t exactly following the rules.”
Lena shook her head as she worked. “You can time it yourself. Someone has bought Callie a drink every two hours.” Often, they brought her pastries or sandwiches too. “It follows your rules to the letter.”
William’s jaw tensed. “This isn’t a personal office. She can’t run a business out of our business.”
Lena turned her head and nodded to a woman in the corner on her phone. “That woman is a wedding planner who comes in at least twice a week to set up interviews with potential clients.” She turned again and nodded at a group of students at a table in the back. “Those kids come here to study every week, even during the summer.” She looked at William. “We also have a slew of writers and graphic designers and artists and business people who all use this space to work. How is this any different?”
“For a few hours at a time.” William tapped his tablet impatiently. “She’s here all day. Every day! Sure, you’re both technically following the rules now, but we both know, one way or another, it can’t keep going on like this.”
Lena felt her own body tense. All it would take is another new policy from him to ruin all their plans. Sure, with a little bit of ingenuity and inspiration, they could probably loophole their way out of trouble again.
But they shouldn’t have to.
Lena nodded. “Do you know how much business the café has done today?” They both knew he had the store’s sales totals on his tablet. He knew. “Sales are up almost ten percent.” Not only did Altared State mean at least one drink every two hours was bought, Callie’s clients often bought their own drink or snack. And, the more people saw other customers with café items, the more likely they were to want their own. The café was, after all, the ultimate impulse buy display. “She’s also walked people around the store, helping them find research materials. Without being on your payroll, she’s sold six books, a paint set, and three CDs.”
Lena smiled when she saw William shift his weight uncomfortably. She looked back at Callie. “You could ask her to leave.” Both Lena and William watched as Callie’s next appointment, a frazzled-looking college student with too many papers and textbooks, sat down at the table. “But they come to see her. If she goes off to some other café, some other store, so do all their sales.”
Lena wanted to whoop. This was what knights who slew dragons and superheroes who swooped in to save the day must feel like. William, for all his authority, had tried to take this space from Callie. To make the world just a little smaller for her. But, together, Lena and Callie had taken it back, because they belonged anywhere they wanted to be. And Lena was so glad to be back together.
With a smug sniff, she turned and grabbed the café au lait she’d made. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an order to deliver.”
For the rest of her shift, William stayed on the other side of the store, fuming as he punched at his tablet, presumably crunching the numbers in hopes that Lena was wrong.
But she wasn’t. She knew it. She might love reading more than doing math, but she understood the basics of business.
She watched while Callie said goodbye to her last client of the day before she grabbed her bag from behind the counter and headed to the table. “How was your first day working as an official Altared State muse?”
Callie smiled, settling something inside Lena that she hadn’t even known was off. “It was amazing. I had a lot of people sign up for more sessions in the future.”
Lena grinned proudly. “I knew you’d be a hit.”
Callie stood up to wrap her arms around Lena’s shoulders in a quick hug. “Thank you. None of this would have happened without you.” Callie gave Lena a wry grin. “I hope it’s all worth it.”
Lena saw doubt and worry crease Callie’s beautiful face as Callie stepped away from her. Lena wouldn’t allow it. Reaching out to cup Callie’s cheek, she pressed her forehead against Callie’s and looked deep into her eyes. “I believe in you.”
Tears welled up in Callie’s eyes as she laid her hand over Lena’s, holding her close to her cheek. “Thank you.” She shook her head and shrugged as if, for once, Lena’s eloquent muse was at a loss for the right words. “Thank you.”
They seemed pretty right to Lena. “You know me,” Lena said with a casual shrug, “just doing what I can to make the hard stuff easier.”
Callie let out a small laugh before pulling her close to give her a kiss, lingering over the sweet press of lips. “My hero.”
Lena kissed her back, reveling in the feel of it before deepening the kiss, workplace decorum be damned. Callie was her girlfriend and she wouldn’t be made to feel like she had to hide. Not by anyone. Not for any reason. Not anymore. “I’m glad it went well.” Lena gave Callie one more smacking kiss. “Ready to head home?”
Callie nodded and took Lena’s hand as they walked out of the café. Holding Callie’s hand as they passed the café’s “No Loitering” sign, Lena felt, for the first time in weeks, the weight of that laminated slip of paper lift.
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