The Gods Have A Coffee Shop

My shift was finally over. Another long day of sitting at the same drab desk in the lobby of the Empire State Building, watching people come and go.

You’re probably wondering what was so hard about that. My main job was keeping people away from Zeus. He had threatened to blast me out of the building for letting people up to the ‘six hundredth floor’ without an appointment.

Yes. That Zeus. The one who often grew 100 feet tall and had a gigantic lightning bolt packed with enough nuclear energy to level a mountain and still have some to spare. Mortals didn’t know the sis hundredth floor existed, but demigods did.

The last time I let one of them up, he summoned me to his throne room. “If one more demigod enters Olympus without my permission, I’ll blast you off the top of the Empire State myself.” He had said it while holding a lightning bolt, so I believed him.

I dusted off my dark blue suit and matching trousers, stood up, and stretched until something in my back made a noise that probably wasn’t medically advisable.

I heaved my bag up off the floor and grunted under its weight. The thing was ridiculously heavy. I stared at it suspiciously, wondering if someone had slipped the lightning bolt into it.

I considered checking. Then I imagined opening the bag and finding a weapon capable of destroying entire cities sitting between my wallet and yesterday’s sandwich. There were some things that were better left alone.

Besides, if I did have the lightning bolt, I’d have bigger problems than getting fired. I’d be incinerated. Then thrown off the building, possibly while I was still on fire.

“Nah. No way Zeus would be that stupid. He wouldn’t let his bolt out of his sight again. Not after that kid stole it a while back.”

I walked out of the building, onto Fifth Avenue. People rushed past me, almost running over me in their haste. I didn’t have the luxury of walking slowly. I bustled over to the Maia café. It was a little thing that most people overlooked. Their eyes drifted from the huge Starbucks on the right to the pizzeria on the left, not noticing this café at all. That was the point. There was one tiny black sign on the door and three tables visible through the window.

I pushed open the door, and the little bell on top of the door dinged. I froze. I knew it was a ridiculous reaction. But when you worked for Zeus and the Olympians, you learned to be suspicious of anything that made a noise without being asked.

I looked around. Nothing exploded. Good enough.

I walked to the table in the back corner and sat down. Nope. We didn’t go place our orders at the counter here. We sat and waited. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know.

I waited and waited until a man appeared beside my table ten minutes later. He didn’t walk up to me but materialized out of thin air.

He wasn’t the usual waiter. He wore a dark black tailored suit with caduceus cufflinks. He had a thin black tablet in his hand. His shoes were polished enough to blind someone in direct sunlight.

He smiled the kind of smile that told you the person wearing it knew something you didn’t.

Something clicked in my head. Oh. Oh no. Hermes. The god of messengers. The fastest being alive. The patron of travelers, thieves, merchants, and apparently today, of overpriced coffee.

He leaned towards me.

“Well, hello there.”

You might be wondering if I managed to keep my cool in front of a major Olympian god. I’d like to say I did. But truth be told, I made a noise that could be a cross between a dying mouse and the screech of bus tires.

“Lord Hermes,” I said because my survival instinct had decided that formal titles were more important than dignity. “What are you doing here?”

“This,” he waved, gesturing around the café. “This is my café.”

I looked around and noticed the three tables, the tiny counter, and the coffee machine that looked like it was on its last breath. It wasn’t something you’d think was owned by a god.

But of course it was. Why wouldn’t one of the Olympians have a coffee shop in the middle of the city? It was odd that a café run by a god was this deserted.

“You own this place?”

He put his hand over his heart. “Do I look like I’d work for anyone else?”

I decided not to answer this, and he pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down.

“I knew you were coming”

My stomach tightened. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“How?”

He smiled that smile again. Not the best question to ask a god who spent thousands of years delivering messages, stealing things, and generally knowing things he had no business knowing.

“I know a lot of things.”

“So… did Zeus send you?” Hermes laughed.

“No,” he said simply.

“Because, if this is about the six hundredth floor thing, I really didn’t let anyone up there.”

“I know.” Those two words were deeply unsettling about those two words coming from him. “I’ve already got your coffee getting ready.”

My stomach dropped. “Wha- H- How did you know what I was going to order?”

He tapped his tablet. “A venti with a single shot of decaf Americano and six pumps of vanilla.” He recited my usual order with ease. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No.”

“Excellent.”

Something dinged on his tablet, and he looked down. “Oh, your order’s ready. I assume you want that to go.”

Of course I did. I nodded immediately. I did not want to sit in a café and make small talk with Hermes. For all I knew, one badly chosen sentence would end up being reported to Zeus.

He stood up, and I barely saw him move. One second, he was beside my table. The next he was behind the counter. Then he was back with a takeaway cup in his hand.

He placed it in front of me. The name Gizmo was written on the side.

“This isn’t my name,” I said.

“Oh, I know. I just thought it sounded funny.” I understood why the Greeks had so many funny stories about this guy.

I reached into my pocket to pull out my wallet.

“It’s on the house. It is my mother’s birthday today, after all.”

“And you’re giving me free coffee because?”

He leaned closer and lowered his voice like he was about to reveal the secret of the universe. “Because my mother likes you.”

I looked down at my coffee, and it smelled exactly right. I’d been working for the gods long enough to know that nothing was ever really free. Hermes was watching me closely.

“You’re thinking this is a trap. Relax.”

“That’s what someone says when it’s a trap.”

“Fair point,” he said, turning to walk away.

I called after him. “Why did you really give me the free coffee?”

“I told you, it’s my mother’s birthday. For some reason, she likes you.”

That unnerved me even more than the possibility of getting fried by Zeus’s lightning bolt.