Excerpt from Straight Man and Coffee Guy
Copyright ©2026 Will Okati
“So what would you say if I told you I was here to make every dream
you’ve ever had come true?”
SM didn’t even glance up from the magazine he was flipping through. Not
that he’d been paying attention to the glossy pages. The skin magazine was
designed for seriously lecherous and perverted types. Lots of pink, pouty
things that kind of made his flesh want to shrivel up and his brain run away
to hide. Still, better low-class reading material than none at all. Nothing
else to do on the graveyard shift, was there?
“I’d ask if you were either AWOL from the City Genie conglomerate,
wonder what you were selling, and pray you were the guy with the coffee I
ordered –” he checked his watch — “an hour ago.”
“One out of three ain’t bad.” A cardboard tray smacked down on the hotel
check-in counter. SM gladly abandoned his perusal of the so-called literature
to reach up and grab a paper cup.
On his way, he spared a glance for the delivery boy. Not bad. Not bad at
all. The kind of boy-next-door good looks that got his motor revving… or
would if it weren’t right around 3 a.m. Nothing short of an earthquake could
get him excited enough to do much of anything this time of day.
He raised the lid and took a sip — then choked. “This is cold!”
The delivery guy shrugged. “Well, you did it order a while back. Is it
my fault it took this long to get away from the late-night crowd to bring the
stuff over? And why did you order four cups, anyway? Have you got someone
stashed under there?” He leaned over the counter, as if to check.
SM hastily knocked his magazine off into a trashcan. “No!”
“Come on, a hunk like you? There’s someone under there.” The coffee guy
tilted up and over, resting his belly on the ledge, peeking. “Is that what I
think — no, just your shoe. Interesting. You dress like a wage slave drone,
but those are some snappy sneakers.”
“Sometimes I have to run to put out fires,” SM replied dryly. Which was
true enough. On more than one occasion, he had, especially when Combustion Man
got too worked up. Oh, he didn’t usually set more than the beds ablaze, but
someone had to be quick on the draw with an extinguisher.
The truth was he wore the sneakers because they were comfortable, and it
was one way of giving management the finger. Not that he’d admit it, of
course, to a diner jockey.
He paused. “A hunk like me?”
“Well, yeah.” Once he’d gotten up there, the coffee guy sat on the
ledge, swinging his own sneakered feet back and forth. “You’re a definite
hottie. At least an eight on a scale of one to ten. Why do you think I waited
to bring your coffee over myself?”
“To be annoying?”
“There is that,” Coffee Guy agreed cheerfully. SM didn’t see any harm in
calling him that. It was neatly printed on his diner nametag, pinned crookedly
on his tight-fitting T-shirt. “It’s one of my better attributes.”
“I’d hate to see the worse ones.” SM took another sip of the brew. He
blinked. “It’s hotter.”
“Thanks.” Coffee Guy flexed his muscles. “I kind of thought so, myself.”
“No, you dolt. I meant the coffee. It’s not as cold anymore.” SM took a
careful sip and almost burned his tongue. He looked up accusingly. “Okay,
give. How’d you do that?”
Coffee Guy shrugged. “It’s a city full of real comic book heroes, right?
Just about everyone and their brother has some kind of freaky power. I have
dominion over the almighty bean, blessed be the name of Java. Behold.” He
pointed at SM’s cup, which refilled the slight distance back up to the lid.
“Talk about your never-ending pot.”
“You’re kidding me.” SM drank again. “How’d you get a sweet talent like
that?”
“As if it’s special.” Coffee Guy snorted. He started to flick through
the check-in register. “All it gets me is the graveyard shift at a hotel
diner. Or is this a motel? I can never keep it straight.”
“Hotel. They have hallways and doors that open from the inside. Motels
open onto the street.”
“You learn something new every day.”
“Keeps the brain active.” SM peered at the cardboard tray with his other
three, now steaming, cups of coffee. “Do you have the ability to summon cream
and sugar as well?”
“Somehow I knew you’d be the kind of guy who had a sweet tooth.” CG
grinned at SM and reached into his pockets. “Wasn’t room on the tray, but I
came through in the clinch.”
“Oh, God. You’re an angel.” SM groaned in pleasure as he cracked open
two still-cool plastic cup-ettes of condensed milk and poured them in his cup.
The sugar came next: three packets. “Swizzle stick?”
“They’re not called swizzle sticks, moron.”
SM cut CG a sharp look. “Oh, yeah? What’s the right name, then?”
“Hell if I know.” CG swung his legs a few more times while SM fixed his
coffee to his pleasure. He even whistled a few bars of a tune, pretty badly
off-key. In the middle of a bar, just as SM was recognizing the melody, he
broke off to say, casually, “I kind of figured you to be the kind of guy who
likes cream.”
About the Author
Willa Okati (AKA Will) is made of many things: imagination, coffee, stray cat
hairs, daydreams, more coffee, kitchen experimentation, a passion for winter
weather, a little more coffee, a whole lot of flowering plants and a lifelong
love of storytelling. Will’s definitely one of the quiet ones you have to
watch out for, though he — not she anymore — is a lot less quiet these days.
Will on Facebook
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Will on Goodreads
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress
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