Chapter Text
Jamil knows all his regulars. He knows Trey who has a preference for a single shot of espresso and brings his own food. Technically, outside food isn’t allowed but Jamil never fusses over it, because Trey is a good customer. And, often, Trey comes with Cater and Cater will buy several sweets — then take Magicam photos of them and pack them up to go. So they end up paying for more than two people’s worth anyway.
(It is also not as though Kalim, the store’s owner, would mind. The Scarabia coffeeshop is Kalim’s first venture and pet project. It got big on social media after the ‘pay it forward’ coffees blew up on Magicam. Jamil has never had a quiet day since.)
He knows Sebek and Silver’s twin order of two black coffees, the single origin of the month. He also knows not to comment on how Sebek will try to sneak creamer and sugar into his own cup without Silver noticing. The emphasis to which Sebek insists his tastes are ‘adult’ also mean they usually get bagel sandwiches for breakfast but when Sebek comes in alone he’ll get a donut.
Jamil’s friend, Ruggie, always comes in near the end of the shift to pick up any leftovers that would otherwise go to waste. Jamil and Kalim gave them to him for free but Ruggie also always buys a drink, usually just a plain iced tea for $1.50 and walks away with boxes of stale pastries.
Most people who come by in a day are the same. The foot traffic near Scarabia is great, Kalim’s father had given him enough money for a nice corner spot in a quiet downtown neighborhood. So it’s obvious when late on his shift on Sunday a new face shuffles in. At first Jamil thinks the customer might be a college student since he’s wearing a clearly well-loved hooded sweatshirt and one of his shoes isn’t tied, the laces are just tucked in. The hood is pulled all the way up and Jamil can’t see the customer’s face at all. But when a quiet stuttering voice orders a ‘triple strawberry unicorn white chocolate strawberry fresh fizz’ and then pays for it with a diamond level card credit card Jamil could only assume the worst.
A rich CEO with the palate of a child.
Idia Shroud the card announces in crisp embossed letters, though no signature is on the back stripe. Most people don’t bother signing their cards anymore but Jamil can’t help to think it seems a little negligent.
The fresh fizz drinks are one of Kalim’s favorites and they’re just glorified energy drinks with too much sugar, but Jamil dutifully mixes it anyway. After Jamil slides the drink across the counter he picks up the receipt and sees, instead of a name signing it just a squiggle. Naturally. Illegible. He does not sigh because Jamil has amazing customer service skills but he does lower his estimation of the customer again.
“T-thanks.” Idia mumbles, takes his drink and goes to sit in the back corner.
“. . . we close in fifteen minutes.” Jamil announces, voice only slightly raised to carry through the empty store.
Idia freezes, halfway sitting down.
“O. . . oh. I. Uh. S-sorry. . .” And then he straightens up suddenly. It’s then that Jamil realizes Idia has not been standing his full height as he is somehow near or over six foot. “I’ll go.”
And that’s the first time, but hardly the last time, Jamil meets Idia Shroud.
Most people who come by in a day are the same. Jamil has a normal morning crowd — during the off season a friend he played pick-up basketball games comes every morning for his lox bagel and orange juice with shot of espresso. Monday through Thursday an older professor by the last name of Trein at a nearby university comes by, often he brings his cat Lucius in a sling.
Of course, even if Jamil didn’t know his morning crowd that well there would be no missing this customer. He steps into the shop wearing an expensive gray suit with an equally expensive scarf — in July, no less — with all the flourish of a magician on stage. Jamil feels his eye twitch, maybe it’s stereotyping customers, but he can feel it — the most complicated and annoying order he’s going to get all day is going to come from this guy.
“Hello there and good day.” The man is even wearing a fedora, which he even tips to Jamil when it’s his turn to order.
“I would like, if it is at all possible, an extra large crunch blended drink, please include three extra bananas, blend it twice to ensure the ice is properly pulverized, no fat cold foam, extra ice, three pumps of low sugar caramel syrup, a dash of skim milk, five spoons of low-fat white chocolate chips, one extra shot of espresso and two shots of decaf espresso, those little dehydrated strawberry crunchy bits. Hm. Extra skim milk. Extra holiday spice topping, one spoon of the natural honey and top it off with some seltzer water.”
Jamil writes it all down on the cup but he has to keep going around it with all the additions. He resists the urge to shove the cup in the man’s face.
“Anything else?” Jamil asks, not even bothering to keep the ‘perky customer service Jamil’ facade up.
“Aren’t you going to ask my name for the order?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to forget who ordered this.” Jamil can not stop himself from adding, “Also, there’s no room on the cup.”
The customer laughs, “You are funny.” And pays in cash.
Jamil doesn’t know it, but that’s the first time he meets Azul Ashengrotto.
Jamil’s sister does not work at the coffee shop. She still has ties to Kalim’s family — after all, they all basically grew up together. Kalim’s family paid for the substantial hospital bills Jamil’s grandfather had accrued throughout a lifetime battling cancer and the Asim’s had also paid for Najma’s college education out of pocket. Jamil can never shake both the feeling of debt and resentment he has for the Asims. Also to be frank, Kalim is not great at managing a business but gets bailed out because of his parents’ money.
“Jamil~” Najma announces herself as he’s closing up shop. She has a key, because of course she does and let herself in the back. “Are you still here?”
“We just closed five minutes ago.”
“Huh. Saw some guy walk to the door and walk away, must’ve just missed your last drink call.” She sits on one of the barstools. “So. Coming to the movies?”
“What?”
“It’s the premier of the Star Rogue reboot later today.”
“Since when are you into SciFi?” Jamil sweeps up and puts the chairs up on the tables. He triple checks the front door lock and then after clearing the till he checks it again.
“A friend at school has been getting me into it.”
“A friend at school.” Jamil crosses his arms. Najma has had ‘friends’ at school and friends at school. If it’s the former what she really means is someone she’s dating. Their parents aren’t conservative when it comes to romance and Najma is turning eighteen this year but it’s hard not to think of her as his baby sister, still.
“He’s just a friend,” she laughs. “You look like such a granny when you frown like that.”
“I do not.”
“You do! Anyway. He’s a big fan of SciFi, apparently his brother’s an inventor and stuff.” She swings her feet back and forth. “So we’re going to go with a group of friends. I’m so not inviting you with us but I do need a ride.”
There it is.
“No.” Jamil wipes down the counters. He checks the front door lock again. She doesn’t say anything as he passes her, even though she was so eager to point out a spot he missed while sweeping earlier. She’s his sister which means she gets to tease about things but if it’s a serious matter she’s not going to put salt in the wound.
“Pleaaaaassseeee.”
“No.”
“I’ll pick up a weekend shift.” She bats her eyelashes.
Najma doesn’t work at the coffee shop but she does occasionally grab one of Jamil’s shifts. She knows the drinks just as well as he does and honestly is better at customer service. Or, rather, she hates customers less than he does even if his presentation almost never cracks.
“Fine.” He relents, as they both knew he would.
“Yes! I’ll tell my friends you’ll be able to pick us up at eleven.” She slides off the stool. “See you then!”
Jamil checks the front door lock again and finally finishes closing the shop. He has a shift tomorrow but not until the afternoon. He has a few hours of free time before he needs to pick Najma and her friends up. He’ll have to map out the route, make sure to properly time everything, he’ll have his GPS on his phone and he’s gone to the theater so many times in the past but the low vibrating anxiety of getting the directions wrong with other people in the car. Also, he needs to think of smalltalk to survive any of Najma’s friends. She collects extroverts and while Jamil considers himself fairly social her friends are usually on another level.
He’s already exhausted just thinking about it.