7. Eight-Month Dryspell

Chapter seven

Eight-Month Dryspell

A few weeks after Oliver had started at the cafe, Willow officially began her internship with Glyma, leaving Oliver to man the register independently. He covered the coffee station in the early mornings until Gem arrived at eight, and so far, he hadn't poisoned himself or anyone else.

"Yet," Rusty liked to remind him, though Oliver was seventy-six percent sure that he was joking.

"I'm heading out," Oliver told Toni, Zef, and Rusty as he shrugged on his jacket. "Have a good weekend."

"What? You're not coming tomorrow?" Toni turned away from where he was preparing Rusty's sandwich.

Oliver straightened his collar. "What's tomorrow?"

"Zef's show." Toni gestured vaguely at Zef. "They perform once a month, and we always go. Zef, did you forget to tell him?"

Zef blinked, fingers of their top right hand tapping a staccato rhythm on the steel prep table. "No, we spoke earlier in the week about it. Did we not, Oliver?"

Since Oliver was sure they hadn't told him anything about a show, he shook his head.

Frowning, Zef wrung out the rag they were using to clean the table into a bucket of strong-smelling cleaning solution. "Oh dear. It must have only happened in my head."

Rusty, who sat on the counter top by the heat lamps, snorted. "Invitations only work when you say them out loud."

With a wave of their hand, Zef made an impatient noise. "I am well aware, Rusty. I simply forgot."

"It's cool," Oliver said. "I don't wanna party-crash or anything."

"Not at all," Zef said smoothly. "I would be honored by your attendance."

"You sure? As long as you don't mind, I'd love to come watch your… show. Are you in a band or something?" Oliver tried to picture Zef on stage wailing on an electric guitar and nearly laughed. They didn't seem the type, but he also didn't know the demon that well yet.

Zef chuckled lightly. "No, I—"

"Don't tell him," Toni interrupted. "Leave it a surprise. It'll be way more fun. You know, for us."

Chuckling dubiously, Oliver nodded. "Okay. Can I bring Jude? He'll be super excited to come back through the veil."

Toni stiffened, the fin along his spine jerking, but he didn't turn around as Zef nodded. "The more the merrier, as you humans say."

"Cool. Um, where are we supposed to go? Like, do I meet you here, or—"

"It's a club in Lust," Toni said, "and we meet there around eight-thirty or so. Zef performs at nine."

Oliver had never been to Lust. Technically, he'd never been anywhere except Purgatory, unless he counted the drunken escapade in Gluttony all those months ago.

"What's the name of the club?" He pulled out his phone to make notes, but Rusty interrupted him.

"I can meet you at Lust station," he said without looking up from his phone screen. "The tram system is a fucking nightmare, even for those of us who live there."

Everyone turned in Rusty's direction, and his tail curled around his waist protectively as he glanced uncertainly at Oliver.

"Really?" Oliver asked. "You don't mind?"

Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes. "I live close to the station. It's not a big deal."

"That would actually be really great. Thanks, Rusty," Oliver said, oddly touched at the demon's offer.

Rusty shrugged. "Like I said, it's no big deal."

"You have our numbers, so if you run into trouble, just text," Toni said as he pulled Rusty's panini off the press and wrapped it up in wax paper. Then he tossed it at Rusty with a flippant, "Here you go, pinky."

Nearly dropping his phone, Rusty managed to catch the sandwich, but Toni didn't seem to notice.

"I could have made it myself," he grumbled as he tucked his phone into his pocket and secured his grip on his food.

"Uh-uh, you know the rule," Toni said with an almost cutting smile. "You're not allowed to touch anything back here."

"Why?" Oliver asked.

Zef was the one to answer. "Too many fires."

Shoulders slouching further, Rusty chittered in the back of his throat before saying, "The first three weren't even my fault!"

"The first three ?" Oliver doctored his expression when Rusty sent him a scathing glare.

"He's been trying to work back here for ages, but every time Glyma gives him a shot, he nearly burns the damn place down," Toni said rather gleefully, sharp teeth flashing when Rusty hissed at him, baring his canines.

"I never burned down anything."

Wordlessly, Toni pointed to a spot on the ceiling blackened by flame.

"That was one time," Rusty mumbled.

Zef gestured to a section of wall that told a similar ashy story.

Chest rumbling in annoyance, Rusty hunched his shoulders higher and hopped down from the counter. "Whatever," he growled as he stomped toward the exit.

"Um, I'll see you tomorrow then," Oliver said with a wave to Toni and Zef as he scrambled to catch up with Rusty's hasty pace. "Bye, Tad," Oliver called as he passed the washing station.

Tad's bulbous eyes narrowed at him, and she raised the spray nozzle in warning, not speaking a word.

Oliver fled before she could make good on the silent threat.

Trailing Rusty out of the cafe, he fell into step beside him. The demon eyed him suspiciously as he tore into the sandwich, holding the food closer to his chest like he expected Oliver to try to steal it.

"When should we meet at Lust station tomorrow?" Oliver asked as they traversed the teal sand.

"It's Saturday so it'll be busy. So, like, eight?"

"Sounds good. Thanks again. I appreciate you meeting us."

Shoving the doors to the station open, Rusty shrugged, whiskers twitching madly. "You're welcome, I guess. I gotta catch my train."

"See you tomorrow," Oliver said.

"Yup," Rusty said with a wave of his hand before he tore another bite from his sandwich and disappeared into the crowd.

Jude was, as Oliver expected, ecstatic to accompany him back to the demon world. Since everyone was being cagey about what kind of "show" Zef put on, Oliver wasn't sure how they were supposed to dress. What if Zef played classical music at a swanky club, and he and Jude showed up in mesh tops and glitter? Or worse, what if they wore suits and everyone else was in leather gear?

The only wisdom Gem deigned to offer was, "Wear what you usually wear when you go out."

So they both decided to play it safe and dress business casual.

"If it's a party club, I'll just take off my shirt and only wear the vest," Jude said.

Oliver eyed the purple button-up with little llamas wearing party hats printed all over it and grimaced. "Maybe you should take off your shirt no matter what."

"Psh, I look awesome."

"You look like a bad LSD trip."

"You're just jealous," Jude sniffed as he straightened the black vest over his monstrosity of a shirt. "You look like a depressed office worker who hasn't gotten his dick sucked in eight months."

Glancing down at his simple blue polo shirt and jeans, Oliver scowled. "Hey! It has not been eight months!"

"You and Cory broke up almost nine months ago, and you haven't slept with anyone since then. So yes, it has."

"No, I went on that movie date with Jill a few months back, and she jerked me off in the parking lot after," Oliver said triumphantly.

Jude looked pained. "Jill was so far out of your league, you weren't even playing the same sport. She gave you a pity handjob."

"Does that not count?"

"Would it make you feel better if it did?"

"Oh my god, I haven't had sex in eight months." Oliver sat down on Jude's bed and stared at his hands. "Way to bum me out, man."

Turning away from the mirror, Jude crossed the room and sat down beside him. "Sorry, I thought you knew." He patted Oliver on the back. "I can give you a blowie. You know, for old time's sake."

"How is a pity blowjob from my best friend any better than a pity handjob from a girl way out of my league?" Oliver said miserably, and Jude laughed, slapping him on the shoulder.

"Well, even if pity is part of it, I'd still give it my all."

Oliver snorted and shoved Jude off the bed. "Asshole."

A little before eight o'clock, their train came to a rolling stop at Lust station with an ear-splitting squeal of brakes. Oliver and Jude weren't the only humans in the crowd, but they were definitely in the minority and garnered attention because of it. Or maybe it was Jude's terrible shirt. It was a toss-up, really.

Oliver followed Rusty's directions to the main entrance of the station, finding the pink demon leaning against a cement pillar, staring down at his phone. He wore his usual baggy, black jeans but no shirt, just a pair of suspenders—one hooked on his shoulder, the other dangling from the band of his pants. The fur on his chest and stomach was pale pink, nearly as light as his eyes, and looked extra silky.

When he spotted Oliver, he tucked his phone into his pocket. "Hey, you made pretty good time."

"Yeah, we made sure to get to Purgatory early," Oliver said.

"Good call." Rusty turned his attention to Jude, his pale pink eyes widening at the human's shirt. "Whoa, that shirt's a… choice."

Jude scowled. "Um, says the Care Bear who isn't wearing a shirt at all."

"I have fur," Rusty said defensively, eyes narrowing. "And what's a Care Bear?"

"Nothing!" Oliver interrupted. "We should probably get going, right? Don't wanna miss Zef's performance, whatever it is."

With one last suspicious look at Jude, Rusty nodded. "Yeah, let's catch the tram. Here." He held out two tickets. "Just scan these when you get on."

"Oh, thanks. What do I owe you?" Oliver took them, handing one to Jude.

Rusty shrugged. "Just pay for my drink tonight and call it even?"

"Sure. Thanks, Rusty."

Ducking his head, his ears twitched as he mumbled, "It's whatever."

As they descended the station steps, the walkway filled with even more people. "Damn, you weren't lying. It is busy."

Rusty looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "It's Saturday in Lust."

"Right—shit, look out." Oliver pointed over Rusty's shoulder, and the raccoon demon spun around, but it was already too late.

A tall, statuesque demon in a business suit—who'd been striding purposefully through the mass of demons without once slowing or stepping aside for anyone—crashed right into Rusty, sending him to the pavement with an animal-like yelp.

Glaring up at the demon as they continued walking without a spared glance, Rusty bared his canines and snarled out something in his language, accepting the hand Jude offered to help him back to his feet. At Rusty's growl, the suit stopped and angled their head to sneer down their nose at all three of them, expression wrinkling in something akin to disgust.

Oliver scowled, and Jude crossed his arms over his chest. Drawing himself as tall as his short stature allowed, Rusty growled another string of unfamiliar words, punctuated by a gesture Oliver had never seen before.

He pressed the pad of his thumb under his chin, then jerked it forward, like he was flinging something at the demon. The demon arched one delicate brow before they spoke in a posh cadence, and even with the language barrier, Oliver heard every ounce of condescension.

Then the demon spat a word that sounded like, "Peeto!" at Rusty, and he flinched, his tail—which had been standing ramrod straight, pink fur puffed up in anger—sinking to curl around his legs.

Even the demons around them reacted to the word, hissing and gasping. For the first time, the suit seemed to notice their surroundings, and their smugness cracked a millimeter as the onlookers glowered at them.

Realizing they were outnumbered, the demon straightened their suit lapels and shot Oliver, Jude, and Rusty another sneer, before they turned on their heels and stalked toward the station. The demons on the sidewalk jeered and made rude gestures at the suit, but they ignored it, head held high like they believed themself above it all.

"What the hell was that?" Jude asked

"Nothing," Rusty said, sounding resigned and tired. "Let's go."

"Are you—" Oliver placed a hand on Rusty's shoulder, but the demon shrugged him off.

"I'm fine." He nodded toward the tram that was pulling to a stop at the street. "We're gonna miss it. Let's go."

The tram was full, and they had to stand in the aisle. Since Oliver was the only one tall enough to hold the bar above their heads, Jude linked their arms at the elbows to keep himself steady as the tram moved through the city.

After nearly losing his balance several times from the jostling of the tram, Rusty finally gave in and placed a hesitant hand on Oliver's back, clawed fingers curling in the back of his shirt. He didn't meet Oliver's gaze, head down like he was embarrassed at the contact. Oliver suspected it had more to do with the rude demon at the station than the fact Rusty had to hold onto him to keep his balance. Not wanting to make him more uncomfortable than he already was, Oliver remained silent.

Demons of all sizes and colors crammed into the tram, forcing Jude, Oliver, and Rusty into even closer quarters. Oliver recognized some of the species, like a few Araknis that towered over the rest, and a large number of furry demons. Quite a few raccoon-like ones, like Rusty, but others that resembled cats and wolves and even rodents.

There were bovine and equine demons, and even a slim deer-like demon with a huge rack of antlers. Oliver had seen a plethora of demon species at the cafe, but most of them had been more or less humanoid. But here in Lust, the majority of the demons seemed to be more… animal-like in appearance.

He wanted to ask Rusty about it, but he didn't want to risk possibly offending him or any of the demons chatting around them. While he didn't understand the language the demons spoke, he did recognize the accent. Almost everyone on the tram sounded like Rusty.

"Did you grow up here in Lust?" Oliver asked as the tram lurched under his feet.

Rusty's shoulder rammed into his chest, and he muttered an apology before saying, "Yeah, born and raised. Gem, too."

"Really? He doesn't have an accent."

Rusty snorted. "He covers it. Just wait till he gets drunk."

"Watch it!" Jude snapped over his shoulder, crowding closer into Oliver's side. "Demons are handsy."

Rusty's eyes flared, and he snarled something at the bovine demon behind Jude. The bull boomed something back, and Rusty hissed, baring his sharp canines.

"Keep your hands to yourself," he growled out in English, "or I'll rip those horns out of your head and fuck you with them!"

It didn't matter that Rusty barely topped five foot six and looked like a squishy teddy bear; in that moment, Oliver believed every word of his threat. Apparently, so did the bull demon because he turned around with a loud but wordless snort.

"You okay?" Rusty asked Jude, and the human nodded. "Demons might try to push you around 'cause you're human. Don't let them."

Securing an arm around Jude's shoulders, Oliver tugged him closer, angling his body as a shield between his best friend and the handsy bull. Jude rolled his eyes, but he didn't stop Oliver.

"This is our stop." Rusty turned and pushed through the bodies toward the door. Oliver and Jude followed, trying not to step on any stray tails, roots, or wings.

When they finally stumbled onto the sidewalk, Rusty directed them to the left and they fell into step beside him. Five minutes later, they arrived at a bar, the green neon sign above the door written in demonic symbols that Oliver couldn't read. Music pulsed from inside, and a line of waiting patrons snaked down the sidewalk, though Rusty strode right past them.

A ridiculously tall figure stood to the side of the entrance, wearing a mesh top and tiny, leather shorts that stuck to every curve of his ample ass and thighs. The red swirls on Gem's skin covered his chest and stomach, disappearing under the band of his shorts.

His legs looked miles long, the fur on his calves disappearing into dangerously high heeled boots. His black hair was styled meticulously, and he was wearing makeup, the skin around his many eyes dusted a lime green to match the mesh shirt.

When he caught sight of Oliver, his bored expression brightened into a beaming grin. He bounded over, heels clicking against the pavement, and enveloped Oliver in a hug. "Hey, I'm so glad you came. And you too, Jude. So good to see you again."

Jude yelped as Gem hugged him with just as much enthusiasm as he had Oliver. "Uh, hey, Gem."

As they parted, Gem turned to Rusty, offering him a warm smile without moving to hug him. "Hey, Rus." Several eyes scanned the pink demon, and Gem's smile softened slightly. "You look nice."

Rusty's hands immediately smoothed down his front, eyes darting around as he cleared his throat. "Uh, thanks?"

"Come on! Everyone's already inside." Gem grabbed each of their wrists with one of his many hands and hauled them toward the door, waving at the bouncer. "They're with me, Paylie!"

"Sure thing, Gem," the muscular, winged demon said as she stepped aside to allow them entrance. "Keep an eye on the humans, won'tcha?"

"I'll keep eight!" he trilled as he guided them into the bar.

It was spacious inside, though the atmosphere was warm and heavy from all the bodies. The area around the bar was packed with demons as three bartenders worked feverishly to fulfill drink orders.

Toni was already in the throng by the bar, and Gem waved wildly at him to get his attention, pointing at Oliver and Jude when the demon made eye contact. Toni gave a thumbs-up, then made a pouring motion toward his mouth.

"You drinking?" Gem asked them.

"Yeah, I'll go help him," Oliver said with a pat to Jude's arm. "Whiskey sour, right?"

"Or the demon equivalent," Jude said, letting Gem lead him away.

Oliver wriggled his way through the crowd until he nearly crashed into Toni, the demon catching him and tugging him close. "Hey, man. Awesome you could make it."

"It's busy," Oliver said, unashamed to hide against Toni's side as the demons around them swarmed the bar.

"It's a popular show," Toni said in explanation. "Come on, I want to get drinks before Zef takes the stage."

When they finally made it to the bar proper, Toni leaned onto his elbows and waggled his eyebrows at one of the bartenders. Oliver thought she was a Succubus, though she was dandelion yellow, not purple like Glyma. She flipped Toni off, but Toni just laughed.

"You friends?" Oliver asked over the noise, and Toni shrugged.

"We hooked up once," he said in answer. "What are you drinking?"

"Jude wants a whiskey sour, and I'll have a fruity cocktail of some kind, just not too sweet." Oliver hesitated. "Oh shit, I didn't ask what Rusty wanted."

"He takes a tonic with kili. He doesn't drink," Toni said simply.

"Oh, okay." Speaking of Rusty, Oliver leaned closer to Toni, who inclined his head. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," he said distractedly, waving at someone at the other end of the bar. "What's up?"

"Uh, what does peeto mean?"

Toni's reaction was visceral. He rounded on Oliver, black eyes wide with shock. "Fuck, where did you hear that?"

Oliver cringed. "Oh shit, it's super offensive, isn't it?"

"Well, it isn't something you hear in polite conversation, that's for sure. How did you come across it?"

Even more aware of the people around them, Oliver shuffled closer so he could speak a little quieter. "Just now at the train station, some asshole ran right into Rusty and called him… that."

A rumble vibrated in Toni's chest as he shook his head. "Let me guess. It was some Pride or Greed dick, wasn't it?"

"I don't know. They talked all proper and posh."

"Pride district," Toni spat. "Fucking pricks. They think their shit smells sweeter than everyone else's."

"I figured, given how everyone else reacted when they called Rusty that word."

Toni shook his head, working his jaw. "Yeah, don't go around repeating it. Not if you want to survive your night in Lust."

Not sure if he was even allowed to ask, Oliver pushed a little harder. "What does it mean?"

Scratching the back of his neck, Toni shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I mean, the literal English translation is something like rager . But I guess that doesn't answer your question, does it?" At Oliver's silence, he huffed. "There's bigotry everywhere, you know? Even here. Demons like Rusty. You know, Pyclons and Nykos and stuff? They, uh, haven't always been treated right. Especially by species that think they're better than the likes of us."

"It's a racist slur?" Oliver asked, and Toni's brows furrowed.

"Uh, kinda, yeah. You know how you got animals up in your world, like pets and shit? They're smart, but not, like, human-smart?" Oliver nodded, and Toni continued, "We got creatures like that here. Not as many, 'cause our world is smaller than yours, but they're here. There's certain diseases they get that don't affect us demons, but it makes 'em kinda… crazy? Like they get aggressive and attack people and shit."

"Like rabies?"

Toni shrugged. "I don't know what that is, but maybe? When an animal gets like that, we call that a pito . And the only thing you can do is, uh, put it down, you know?"

Fury swelled in Oliver's chest. "That demon called Rusty a rabid animal?"

Again, Toni winced. "Like I said, it ain't something you hear in polite company. But yeah. It's a really shitty thing to call anyone, but it's usually directed at species like… well, like Rusty."

"That's so fucked up."

The bartender arrived to take their drink order, interrupting the conversation, and Oliver tried to swallow down the anger. He'd assumed pito meant something awful, given Rusty's reaction to it, but it was still infuriating to have it confirmed.

Toni's thumb drummed a staccato rhythm on the bar top, black tongue sliding along his sharp teeth. "What, uh, what did Rusty do? When the demon called him that?"

"He just… I dunno. He kinda deflated. He just looked really sad, I guess."

A complicated expression crossed Toni's face, but he just nodded. "That's fucked up. Sorry you had to see that."

"I'm more sorry Rusty has to experience it."

"Yeah, the kid's an asshole, but he doesn't deserve that kind of shit."

Oliver thought of Rusty offering to meet him and Jude at the train station, how he'd bought their tram tickets, the way he'd defended Jude on the tram. "He's not an asshole." At Toni's disbelieving snort, Oliver shook his head. "Okay, he can be grouchy, but I don't think he's an asshole."

Grin sharpening, Toni knocked Oliver's shoulder with his. "Give it time."