CHAPTER1
tristan
@theseguinbean:While the number of espresso shots in your morning bean water is between you and your deity of choice, please note that it may impact the speed with which you meet him/her/them.
@thewateringhole:This may be bad for business, but maybe don’t take your daddy issues out on your liver.
“Dammit,” I whispered to myself, trying so hard not to laugh.
Joel, owner of the Watering Hole, and I had been feuding over social media for the last month, though it was more of a silent war, with neither of us acknowledging the funny posts we’d been trading.
It should be noted that the Watering Hole and the Seguin Bean were nestled right next to each other in Seguin’s adorable downtown, so we saw each other. A lot. Yet neither of us had ever acknowledged the other in this little contest of witticisms.
Whatever. I knewheknew we were at war.
He had an unfair advantage, though, because alcohol was infinitely more hilarious than caffeine. Joel had easy access to drunken quotes, pratfalls, and bad decisions. I had to work hard to come up with my posts.
I shouldn’t have taken it so personally—my goal was to be a social media manager for progressive politicians, not the funny-post guy for the local coffee shop. Even though it was the best job I’d ever had.
I was about to graduate from college with a major in communications and a minor in political studies, so this was my last day at the coffee shop for a couple of weeks. I had to study for my finals, and after I took them, I was going into Austin to interview for a handful of internships.
The thought of living there made dread pool in my belly—even though I was thrilled to leave my parents’ house. Austin’s rents were stupid high, and the traffic was even worse… but that was where the politicians were.
I was holding out hope that something would come up somewhere closer. Maybe San Antonio. I looked out over Seguin’s green, shady Central Park—no relation to the one in New York—as anxiety thrummed through my chest.
“What are you doing?” Allie asked, sticking her chin over my shoulder. She’d opened this place in the early 2000s and often talked about how she’d managed to survive by the skin of her teeth when the one Starbucks opened off the highway about ten years ago.
It was funny how she thought she’d been lucky to keep the doors open despite the competition. I was the one who told her she survivedbecauseof the Starbucks effect, which surprised her. They showed up, and soon everyone had a five-dollar-a-day coffee habit and thought nothing of her charging a whole dollar for an extra shot.
Ridiculously priced coffee wasn’t the only measure of growth in Seguin, though. We had a long way to go on social issues, but the locals were the ones keeping my queer boss and her mermaid undercut in business, and I knew for a fact that it wasn’t always like this.
My mom, an EMT who sometimes went a little too far with her allyship, told me this place used to be actively hostile to queer people, and she and Dad made it their business to be just as hostile right back. You’d think it was because I was their son, but no. I was pretty sure they’d always been that way.
That said, I’m absolutely certain the changes I saw in school were the result of the school board deciding it was easier to fight homophobia than to deal with my parents.
Hell, the election of Mayor Whatley—Allie’s wife—even proved that Seguin’s voters were willing to choose a qualified queer person. I’d volunteered to run her social media campaigns, and I think I did a damn good job of showing off her warm intelligence. Sure, last year’s lead mayoral candidate had to be busted for his predatory behavior for the good people of Seguin to give her a chance, but a win was a win.
The upshot of having the mayor as your biggest fan was that, even though Allie’s shop was stuck between the bar and the super-trendy hardware-slash-gift shop, she’d worked it out with the city council to have a drive-up station for preorders running from six to nine in the morning.
Take that, Starbucks.
(But, uh, please keep making the Pink Drink.)
Anyway, sales had gone up ten percent in the month since Allie started letting me have fun with the coffee shop’s social media posts, so it wasn’t like I was just fucking around.
Realizing I hadn’t answered her question, I flipped my phone face down on the counter and pasted on my professional, mild-mannered smile.
“I’m not doing anything, Al.”
“No, no. Nope,” she said, wagging her finger at my fake expression. “Don’t try to act like I’m a customer. That’s gross.”
I rolled my eyes and showed her this morning’s post.
She nodded along, her lips twitching as she read Joel’s words. “Funny.”
Her all-seeing eyes slid to mine. In addition to running a solid business, Allie had epic side-eye abilities.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
