A/N: This story was previously published as a standalone book and has been lightly revised now. I owe a tremendous gratitude to everyone who has already checked it out, and I feel this short story collection is a better place for it. Thanks for the support! If you already read it, feel free to skip! 

Bay Works For the Magicians At the Cloud

Bay wished Song had waited until after closing to come harass her.

"Yue needs to pay. The full amount. Now."

Song leaned on the glass counter and hammered her fingers on the Cloud Canopy Cafe menu for Septembris IV, 1220SE. Still in a three-piece suit (and still a little high strung) from work, Bay's novia had been following her around as she dropped off dishes, half the time humming and hawing over what to order, and half the time criticizing Bay's life choices. At least she troubled to lower her voice. "If you don't confront her by the time I'm done eating my cazuela—"

At least she troubled to walk with Bay and order at the counter, rather than shouting up at her from a moonlit table for two.

Every table in the Cloud caught a little moonlight — since the levitating restaurant's dome ceiling let in the glow. A little starlight, too, even on unclear nights, because technically radiant energy from the stars fueled every lamp on every table.

Bay tapped the screen of the Stellar, a brand new magical register device, and avoided looking up to make eye contact. "I'll talk to her right after I bring your iced Cha. Tap sign here." The magic tablet flashed brighter than the cafe's mood lighting; Bay hadn't figured out yet how to dim the screen. It blinded her — and, without looking up, she imagined its blank gleam highlighted Song's angular face and her serious glower.

Gaze on the Stellar, she could see that Song wasn't tapping. "Use your finger." Bay twitched her index.

"I'm serious, woman," said Song. "Yue needs to pay you. She always does this, and you can't keep letting her boss you around. That's my job." She didn't even laugh saying that, which was odd. It sounded like a joke, but her eyes were not smiling. "You have two choices. One of them is to change nothing, roll over, and let her walk over your back again. The other is to talk to Yue today, and end this. Stand up to her!"

A lot went unsaid there, the constant context. How Song was sick of hearing Bay complain. Always broke, relying on Song all the time, becoming financially dependent or whatever, because Yue was always behind. 

"I hear you. I'm listening. And I'm going."

"How do I know you're actually doing it this time?"

"Please. You'll hear the shouting."

Song leaned in and hushed, "She's going to shout at you? Has she been shouting at you? You know what—" she leaned out and swept her arms wide "—I don't even. I don't even want to know. How much is it?"

The bright Stellar screen had displayed the bill the entire time: 2100S. "Hey, on second thought, why don't I get it?" Bay imprinted her fingertip where the screen hung in midair. Song comes in here with her magic pressed collars and animated ties — today diamonds that fill from the inside with blue, then silver, then white, like ice in pitch black shadow being lit up . . . Bay could afford to treat her to a meal.

And she could even get her a leche fritta with the 'employee discount.' Order, deliver, reimburse. If anyone asks, the postre order was placed by accident.

But no one ever asked.

"If you insist. I'm going to grab that table by the window. Facing the view downtown. Far, far away from the kitchen." Over her shoulder as she walked away, Song tossed back, "I better not hear any shouting."

Now Song was too far away to hear a discreet response. Bay wished she had a magic spell to send a mental message so she could whisper straight into Song's mind, "I wish you would stop undermining me and let me solve my own problems."

Then an error message drew her eyes back to the Stellar: "Transaction failed." Shouldn't it make a sound? Or flash?

Maybe it was better that it hadn't. Maybe Song didn't need to know that the situation was so bad her credit was bouncing.

"Can you cover my tables for a minute, Impala?"

"Make Jaya."

"Jaya didn't show up for aer shift." Which was odd of aer. "Probably quit after Laotong did. Or maybe it was after Goya." Bay whispered, "One defection can lead to an exodus." Aeh had been over this job for a while now. Always running late, always running a hustle, never staying to shift end. When Yue started withholding backpay and skimping on overtime, there wasn't a lot of reason to show up to this job.

Fuck the iced Cha, Impala could bring it. Clapping invisible dust from her palms, Bay stormed the kitchen. Magician chefs were conjuring invented dishes while prep cooks linked in supremely fresh ingredients to be high heat seared, braised, fried. The date syrup encrusted blue string beans always made Bay's mouth water. Yue's patent marble-sized artichokes (in rayu chili oil) and purple peppers (in fermented lemon butter) smelled best while too hot to eat without burning your tongue. Steam in the air diffused the stink of pork salsiccia, fatty and spicy, with bright, pungent, peppery, acidic and umami scents. Bay's stomach was melting by the time she made it to the back.

Yue was inside her office, beyond a lillacwood door. Bay closed it behind herself. "I know I know, it's not my break." Hands held up defensively. "We need to talk." Amazing how much easier it became to stand up for yourself with a partner's displeasure at stake. "My account is bottomed out, and I need my backpay. I can't continue to labor until we're settled up—"

"All backpay is being held pending the results of the theft investigation." Yue came out from behind her desk with the interruption. Suited up, not unlike Song, in animated threads with pastries crumbling on her hatband, Yue was tall and painfully slender, as if she'd never tasted sugar crusted croissants in her three centuries of living. Pearl white stilettos lifted her even higher into the sky. Her creaseless face, which got exactly the amount of sun you wanted and not enough to damage the skin, still looked sixteen. She said her secret was a half hour walk after meridies, but Bay thought she shelled out for stellar tanning. "I need to determine which employees were involved or complicit in the slew of free handouts and thefts from the register."

Bay swallowed the litany of supporting arguments. That Yue was a month behind on OT; that when she did pay out it was in cash and short thousands of solidae; that everyone knew Yue was at risk of losing her business license — it had been suspended in 1217SE.

Unfortunately, Bay realized what Yue was about to say just as she said it. Jaya.

"I let Jaya go. The losses have set me back millions this year, and I've been unable to make rent payments. You were on shift yesterday while Jaya orchestrated her final scam. Not only is the register short in cash, aer friends dined with us at a staggeringly low bill of 2900 solidae. They tipped well, obviously. Do you know what 2900 solidae gets you on our menu? You've worked here long enough. You should be able to get the picture. Maybe they shared a liter of vinum and two or three piatti. Or perhaps they joined us to split a dessert with coffee or cha. Let's see..."

As a licensed magician, Yue didn't need a Stellar to call up surveillance footage. A growing view of the cafe from a partially overhead angle spread over the office wall. It looked like a portal to the front of restaurant Bay had just left. Yesterday evening's events were put on repeat using a form of time travel magic. From overhead, Bay counted eight diners at a table set for nine. Four carafes of nero and four of bianco. A small plate of salsiccia, and the sea bass. The pheasant platter. Side dishes of every color, including the patent purple peppers and marble-sized artichokes.

Through the surveillance link, time moved at double speed, and occasionally Jaya would take the ninth spot at the head of the table — recognizable, despite the beret that hid aer face, from aer dusk blue apron and nails painted starry sky to match. Aeh would ask to be passed the lobia masala green eyed peas or the blue date syrup beans, take a few mouthfuls, and return to aer shift.

Most incriminatingly, Bay had been managing the Stellar register in the corner — just visible from the angle at which Yue had pointed the surveillance link — the whole time. If Jaya had given her friends an 'employee discount,' by adding each item ordered by another table twice 'by accident' and sending the extra dish her friends' way, it looked unlikely that Bay wouldn't have known about it.

"Would you like to see dessert?"

Bay had no desire to. That would be the most incriminating part for her. She could still taste the hot honey drowning the gulab jamun and the cinnamon lemon zest of the leche frita. She wanted to be teleported back to yesterday — for more than one reason.

The surveillance feed sped up. Dishes eaten at hyperspeed, plates speedily recovered, dessert orders placed and delivered in a blink. Out came multi-colored mochi and crepe cakes topped with helado. And there was Bay, caught red handed, leaving the Stellar to sample a bite of each postre.

"You can have your backpay once I determine how much of it you've spent on treats," said Yue. "I also need to know who else is stealing from me. The audit would involve watching hundreds of hours of surveillance footage — or paying someone to. Who should foot the bill for those hours of labor?"

"Jaya?" said Bay. "If you need, I could take on the role. Although I didn't complete my degree, my specialization in school was surveillance link related. I can operate links, and I'm good at scanning, searching through time stamps, and making reference tabs, and—"

"You'd like that. At time and a half, right?"

"I'm qualified, if you sponsor my license. And you can trust me."

"Now, I almost trust you. You're a good sort, unauthorized dessert sampling notwithstanding. Tell me who else has been complicit in Jaya's scheme, or has otherwise been stealing from me, and you'll have your backpay in full, plus the surveillance role."

"I do want the job." Bay leaned in with prayer clasped hands. She wanted that job bad, because apparently Yue hadn't specialized in surveillance links. She didn't seem to be a great magician. She didn't seem to know that the surveillance footage could be imprinted into your mind, like a memory, meaning Bay could do the entire job in a millisecond, then bill Yue for "hundreds of hours" of labor.

"Then tell me who else has been stealing from me."

"What if my investigation comes to the conclusion that no one else has been stealing from you?"

"Investigation?"

"Yes, investigation. May I have until the end of the week, or—"

Yue tapped her way over to the proper position in which to get in Bay's face.

"No you may not have until the end of the week. I want a name. If you don't have one, you can head home — no need to complete your shift. Just close out and hand your tables over to Impala."

"Oh, well. . ." Before throwing a coworker — friend or foe — under the bus, one really should sleep on it. "I'll do some asking around and let you know when I find—"

"Don't bother returning to work until you're ready to spill it." Yue held out her palm, then closed it three times rapidly.

Bay removed the dusk blue apron and handed it over.

Constellations is a series of short stories. Though the world is fantasy, it's inspired by real lives, real workers, real addictions, and loves, and dreams. That can be said of most every work of fiction, yet I mention it as a reminder that stories bring us together in all of our struggles, passions, upsets and victories. In all of our journeys. I hope you will join me to see where Bay's takes her.

If you like my work, please star or share it, to give me a hand with mine.