A Whole Latte Sass

by Marguerite Labbe

  With his phone pumping out ska, Trask grabbed a bottle of glass cleaner and started wiping down the windows and the long glass case holding various rare items he had on display and a few really kickass figurines and busts. His favorite first edition comics, some of which he’d even managed to get signed, hung on the wall next to photos of the stars he’d met over the years going to cons all over the world before he started slowing down to concentrate on the ones closer to home.

  The crowded front of the store held short aisles stuffed with game paraphernalia and anything else that warmed the cockles of a geek’s heart. And it all collected dust like a magical conduit. Trask traded in his rag and bottle for a duster and went to war. By the time he’d finished dusting the rows filled with a hodgepodge of gamebooks and the miniatures that went with them, the wire stands with comics, and the jumble of New Age paraphernalia, he wanted a break before he even considered touching the back room. That was a whole different chore with its long tables and war game terrain models that collected dust into every nook and cranny. Once Trask got started back there, he wouldn’t want to stop until every last piece was done.

  Trask brewed himself a pot of his favorite dark roast decaffeinated coffee, sat down in the comfortable chair he’d placed behind the register, and pulled out his battered copy of Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance from the little bookshelf that contained all of his favorite books. He’d give himself half an hour, then clean the back before tackling the online orders.

  He propped his feet up on a stool and took an appreciative sip of his coffee before turning to one of his favorite passages. His thoughts flicked to Felipe. The cosplayer had popped into his mind every time he’d given himself a quiet moment since they parted last night. He wanted to pass off Felipe’s interest as just teasing and flirting. And it was flattering, but Trask’s ego didn’t need bolstering by a fling with a guy barely old enough to drink.

  He had to admit he enjoyed Felipe’s company. He was amusing, confident, and hell, really sexy, with his rich dark brown hair, light brown eyes under heavy brows, and a mouth that just begged to be kissed. Trask had no doubt Felipe could bag any single gay guy he wanted and probably a couple who considered themselves straight too. He didn’t see what the interest was in himself. Trask was no prize. He could be considered unexciting if you didn’t like the introspective type.

  His phone dinged, interrupting the music, and like a Pavlovian dog, Trask picked it up. He really ought to shut it off every once in a while, instead of being a slave to it.

  Felipe’s picture smiled up at him. I am stuck at work bored off my ass. What’cha up to, Tin Man?

  Felipe had this uncanny knack of knowing whenever Trask was thinking of him and choosing that moment to contact him. He couldn’t picture a man like Felipe stuck in a highway toll booth for an entire shift. That had to be a nightmare for him. Taking a break at work, sitting down with a book. What made you decide on that career path?

  Even if I had the patience to read, they’d never let me take one into this cage hell. It’s close to home & school, good benefits, & I needed to get away from working w/family. Why’re there so many stupid drivers in MD?

  Trask set aside his book. He could sacrifice his reading time to entertain Felipe. He sympathized. He hadn’t wanted to work with family either. His old man always figured that Trask would toil with him in the garage. Trask couldn’t run away fast enough. They’re everywhere. Trust me. Curiosity got the better of him. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened with you and Dakota?

  There was a long pause, and Trask was about to apologize. Some people didn’t want to discuss past relationships, him included, but before he could, Felipe texted back. We wanted different things. He wanted to keep it kind of casual, I wanted something a little deeper. We agreed to stay friends.

  From the way Ryan made it sound, it seemed like the other way around, but Trask had spent some time with both men, and he couldn’t see Dakota settling down with one person anytime soon. He was usually flitting from one guy to another, so when his name had been linked with Felipe’s for so many months, many assumed he’d met his match.

  No drama between us, I promise, though I do adore a bit of theatricality.

  Trask smiled at that. I never would’ve guessed. Working on any costume commissions?

  He’d seen the fruit of Felipe’s labors on more than one cosplayer. That kind of work took time and attention to detail. He’d also seen the number of panels he’d appeared on at conventions, and Trask knew he went to as many shows as he could. Felipe was serious about cosplaying. Trask respected that level of dedication.

  Honestly, it’s to the point where it’s more than I can handle. It’s time to make some decisions, cut back, or find a partner & go at this full-time. I could make a career out of this if I do it right.

  Well, that showed ambition and drive that men his age rarely displayed. Trask didn’t want to think about what he’d been doing at twenty-two. He’d either been stuck in county jail or rehab. He’d hopped back and forth between the two enough. It had taken more than one wake-up call to get on the right path. Even then, the road had been long and treacherous, and he’d stumbled more than once. Sure he’d had the Den, but he’d almost lost it before he’d gotten his shit together.

  I hope it works out for you.

  Yeah, me too. Look, gotta go, traffic’s picking up. Talk to ya on the other side. Stay sexy. I need the hormone boost when I look at you.

  Trask chuckled at the last message and set aside the phone with an air of regret. After Felipe’s marriage announcement last night, he’d been braced to dodge a lot of uncomfortable come-ons, but Felipe had acted like he always did, snarky and funny, with wicked observations about everything and everyone. He’d even included Morris’s kid friend, who’d tried to keep up with equal snark that they both clearly delighted in. Felipe had been concerned that Trask enjoyed his meal and had enough to eat, but not so much that Trask felt he had to defend his choices, which had been a problem in the past.

  He’d had fun. Maybe Ryan was right and he should socialize a little more, because it had been nice without being too much. He glanced at his watch with a sigh. And now it was time to get back to work. He wanted to have that back room straightened before the open role-playing night on Tuesday. A couple different campaigners used his back room as headquarters.

  The chime over the door jangled. Trask glanced over and his brow lifted. Dakota Nye, king of the podcasts, surveyed the shop from the doorway. What were the chances that Felipe’s ex would come in today? If Felipe got him caught up in a relationship triangle, this gaming trial would be over before it started.

  “Hey, Dakota.” Trask lifted his hand in greeting. “You didn’t head back home last night with everyone else?”

  “Nah, I caught the train into Richmond on Friday. I have an interview later on today for Geek Wars. Then I’m heading back up to Baltimore.” Dakota crouched down in front of the glass case. “Wow, that’s a sweet Cyborg bust.”

  Trask leaned his hip against the counter. “I picked it up at Wizard World. This guy was trying to sell off most of his stash, get out of the business. I spent a lot of money that day but made a killing.”

  “I bet you earned it all back after a month online.” Dakota straightened and met Trask’s eye. “I hear you’re going to give our group a trial run.”

  “That didn’t take long to get out.” Trask poured himself another cup of coffee. “Want some?”

  “Sure, got any cream and sugar?”

  Trask pulled out the stash he kept for Ryan, set them on the counter with the cup, and filled it. Dakota quickly doctored it up, then took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “That’s good. Morris pretty much squealed with excitement while you were still eating dinner. He blasted everybody with it.”

  Trask remembered Morris texting furiously, but he hadn’t let anything else show but cool pleasure. “Don’t let that excitement get out of hand. We’re just going to see how it works. It’s a long d
rive if you’re not happy with my style or y’all get on my nerves.”

  It probably sounded more pessimistic than Trask meant. He didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up and squished if it didn’t work. That was all.

  Dakota shot him a grin. “We’re an interesting mix of personalities, but we mesh well. I don’t think anyone there is going to have a problem being on display in your back room. Well, maybe Lincoln, but he might not join in. I think he’s still in high school or something.”

  On the counter, Trask’s phone dinged with an incoming message, and Dakota glanced at it. “Giving Felipe your cell phone number is an invitation for nonstop chatter.”

  “I’m coming to realize that.” Trask stuck the phone in his back pocket and grabbed the duster. “I was heading to the back room if you wanted to talk.”

  “Wow, it’s been a while since I’ve been here. I love the changes you’ve made.” Dakota made a slow circuit around the room, examining the fantasy maps and star charts Trask had used to paper the walls.

  “Yeah, it needed something. It was starting to look a little dingy, and this at least adds to the ambiance.” The Den was more Trask’s home than the loft he lived in.

  Three tables dominated the back room that took up almost half his shop space. The long cafeteria-style table with its built-in benches was mostly used for card tournaments. It usually had kids there in the summer and on weekends. In the back, next to a series of built-in cabinets, was the bar-style war game table set up for a moon base siege. The group using it was in the middle of an ongoing battle, but he had more scenery in the cabinets for all kinds of other campaigns. Trask didn’t play that much himself, but he loved to make miniatures and scenery. He either kept it at the Den or sold it online. The round table sat up to eight players and was ideal for role-playing. Big enough to lay down scene maps and minis, but not so big that you felt like you were shouting at your fellow players.

  Trask had to admit, he missed playing with a group. He’d sulked long enough, nursing his irritations in isolation, which was a bad habit he needed to stop. Another one of those toxic thinking attitudes he was struggling to put in his past, one at a time. He knew everyone in Felipe’s group at least casually, and they seemed like a cool bunch.

  “We usually take turns at other people’s houses. That way we’re all taking part in the traveling. But I suppose having us play here will help you sell games,” Dakota observed with a shrewd look.

  “And dice, maps, and everything else that goes with it,” Trask agreed. “If you miss your old GM, have you considered doing a game online? Using Twitch maybe, or Discord, Roll20?”

  “We tried, but it wasn’t the same. It’s okay. I don’t mind coming here. I’m in and out of Richmond all the time.” Dakota spread his hands as his expression became more intent. Trask had heard that he was a man who usually got what he wanted. Trask was curious to know what that was today. Because if it had to do with Felipe, he was ready to shut that shit down now. “I was just thinking that since you’re going to get some monetary value out of this, maybe you could spread the love.”

  Trask eyed Dakota, trying to figure out the angle. “Sounds like you’ve been listening to Brenden.”

  “Yeah, he’s a bad influence,” Dakota agreed easily. “Believes in reciprocity. He’s drilled that word into my head.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Trask already had a number of items on sale from people in his circle, and they made a nice exclusive addition to the Den.

  Dakota reached into his messenger bag and pulled out a stack of postcards. “Would it be a problem having these on your countertop?”

  Trask glanced at the image of a guy dressed in a generic comic book hero cape and mask facing off against a woman who looked like a cross between Red Sonja and Xena with the words Geek Wars emblazoned over them. “This Jackie’s work? It looks like her style.”

  “Yeah, we must’ve spent a month haggling over the design.” Dakota looked at the postcards with obvious pride. “I really like how they turned out. I think they’ve helped get the word out. It’s slow, but the downloads are increasing.”

  “I don’t mind setting them out. It’s an entertaining podcast.” Trask set the cards aside. “I can also put a link on my website for a small ad fee, unless you want to maybe mention me from time to time on your show.”

  Dakota grinned. “Now who’s sounding like Brenden? I’d be happy to shill your shop. To be honest, I think this mutual backscratching is working out better than paying off some of the bigger venues for advertising.”

  “Have you been able to quit your day job yet? I know you were considering it last time we talked.” Trask finished his neatening and deemed the back room ready for the players later on. He’d tackle the dusting after Dakota left.

  “I’ve cut back to part-time, but I’m not quite there yet. Thinking about moving back in with Brenden to cut costs. Not sure, though. He might strangle me in my sleep. I opened an online store, and that’s helping supplement my income. Have you thought about that? Adding T-shirts and mugs geared to your store, tchotchkes stuff?” Dakota followed Trask back into the main room as another customer entered.

  “Not really, I have my hands full with the online sales as it is. It would be just something else to track.” Trask dropped the postcards on the counter and nodded to the customer. Didn’t look familiar, but they usually got some new foot traffic after a show.

  “I’ve got to go and get ready for my interview. Thanks for this.” Dakota tapped the postcards on the counter. He gave Trask a considering look and then leaned in. “Word is Felipe’s got his sights set on you.”

  Trask shook his head. “I don’t discuss stuff like that, true or not.”

  Dakota hesitated, studying him. “I’m not big into gossip myself, so I’ll leave it at this. He’s a good guy and a hopeless romantic. I don’t want to see him hurt again. So if you’re not interested, let him know early before he builds it up in his mind.”

  “Duly noted.”

  Dakota paused, but when Trask didn’t add anything else, he gave a little salute and walked out. Trask watched Dakota go and glanced at the phone, at the last text Felipe sent.

  Look what that mom from yesterday forwarded to me. It was the picture of Felipe on the surfboard with the little girl. The way their eyes were both lit up called to that place inside of him that had been empty for so long.

  “Well damn,” Trask muttered.

  Chapter Four

  THE SOUND of yipping puppies scattered Felipe’s concentration. He cussed under his breath, finished the seam, and straightened from the sewing machine. His neck had knotted into kinks, and he took a moment to roll his head from side to side to work them out. His eyes burned from the strain of staring at one spot. He’d been at this for a while now. It was time to take a break before he started making mistakes.

  Felipe cut the thread, lifted the stiff fabric free from under the presser foot, and shook it out. He held it up so he could get a better look at the progress on the tunic. Perfect, he thought with a thrill of satisfaction.

  Tomorrow he’d work on finishing the armor before turning to the final touches. He arranged the tunic on the mannequin in the corner and took a quick picture for his customer. At this rate, he might be able to squeeze in an extra project before the next show if his schoolwork didn’t get too crazy. And he had to finish the cape he was wearing for the Ren Faire this year.

  More yipping attracted his attention, and Felipe walked over to the large box in the corner where a pile of squirming, floppy-eared, four-week-old puppies was waking up next to their mama. Lady lifted her tawny head and gave Felipe a long-suffering look. “Does Mama need a break?” Felipe asked, sitting cross-legged next to the box and rubbing under her chin where she loved it best. “I bet you’re bored in there, kiddos. I get bored in my box too.”

  One by one he lifted them out, let them nuzzle his face before setting them on the ground. They ranged from tawny to a coppery red-brown with whipcord wagging tails an
d paws too big for their bodies. “We’ve got to see about getting you all a home,” Felipe crooned as he lay back on the floor and let the excited puppies crawl all over him. “But not yet, me and your mama get you for a while longer.”

  It was hard to remain irritated over Trask’s silence with such wiggling adoration. He picked out his favorite, a rust-colored girl with a silky coat and ears that didn’t know if they wanted to point or fall over. “I’m going to miss you, baby. I need to find you a special home.” He’d tried so hard to talk his mom into letting him keep her, but she refused. They had enough critters crawling all over their land, and he was away from home often. “You’re the smartest one out of a pretty smart batch, Sophie. Maybe I’ll give you to Jaydon. He’s dying for a puppy.”

  Brett and Daphne’s son had a special place in Felipe’s heart. He was always at the cons, catching naps under his mom’s table, fetching drinks for those stuck by themselves, generally making an amiable nuisance of himself. He adored Felipe’s costumes and was trying his own mix of cosplay at seven. And like Felipe, he had a foot in two different cultures with his white Jewish dad from upstate New York and African American mama from Mobile, Alabama. Felipe knew what that felt like. How it could be incredibly cool and confusing at times. Jaydon was mature enough to have his own dog. It was just a matter of picking out the one perfect for him and sweet-talking Daphne into allowing the puppy to come home.

  Sophie found the string to his hoodie and began to tug on it, shaking her head in mock ferocity. “Nope, not that.” Felipe gently tapped her nose and held out a toy. “Chew this instead.”

  As he played with the puppies, his thoughts went back to Trask. The man was attracted. Felipe had seen the admiring looks, and he never tried to dodge Felipe’s conversation, which was a telling sign. He knew when someone was only interested in his ass and not him. If he was just wanting a booty call, he would’ve pounced. That he hadn’t was, in a way, a relief. Felipe did not want to be that guy again. Nor did he want to be somebody’s closet dirty secret. He wanted a friend and a sexy lover.