Gay For You, page 8
As I stared out the window at the frigid landscape, Sam was swimming through my mind. When I closed my eyes, I could picture his hazel gaze. He could see through me; other people just saw me for what I could do for them. How I was a famous athlete and all that. But I fell like Sam really understood me, and I had a feeling that he understood more about me than I even knew about myself yet.
For one, I had discovered that I shared this connection with a man. Though, throughout my life, I’ve never felt a strong connection like this with a woman before, even though I’ve felt a physical connection. It’s like I was attracted to both sexes, but I could only feel a deeper, emotional connection with… men. No, only this man.
I had never considered myself a very sexual person, but Sam brought out something in me that was difficult for me to make sense of or control. I liked it, but I also resented it, because it was yet another thing to think about instead of studying. It made me lose control over myself, but I still hungered for more.
The snow was coming down hard and everything was white-washed. There was something comforting about the snow—even though it was so cold and nasty, it washed away everything – all of the details and cracks and imperfections of the earth underneath. It erased all of the history of everything, these ancient university buildings for a few days until the land could get its bearing again.
It was clearing things away. Giving the year the space it needed to start over.
Wasn’t that what winter was about? Starting over?
I mulled over this question as the big, rectangular blue busses appeared out of the white wash and pulled up to the station, crunching the snow as their tires rolled over it. Everyone was wearing black, pricey coats. Some students were decked out in Canada Goose jackets that were like a thousand dollars. I felt a little inferior in my camouflage coat I’d gotten in the tenth grade. It was a few sizes too small for me and not nearly thick enough for the Michigan winters.
My thoughts turned to Sam again. Why I was so perplexed by this man? Usually I felt like I had all the power; all the control in the relationship. But in this case, I was at his mercy. Though, in a weird way, it also felt like he was at my mercy.
I closed my eyes again, thinking of the flesh tones from earlier when we’d played in his studio. His head bobbing up and down on my dick, giving me an insanely delicious carnal pleasure. There was something to be said for having a connection like this—full physical, emotional… and…
Spiritual.
Even though I wasn’t religious, that word somehow felt right. There was some kind of indescribable chemistry that connected us, and both of us felt it.
Then I wondered what else this man had up his sleeve. I wanted to find out. I felt like even if I did get to the point where I knew Sam very well, there would still be so much about him that I didn’t understand.
It was tantalizing. I usually got bored so easily. But there was something about the dark hooks in his gaze that had latched into my soul, and were keeping my mind and my heart on him.
On this man. No, on this person. I was falling for a person, and he happened to come in the form of a man.
The bus screeched to a halt outside the station in Detroit. I got out of my warm seat and checked my watch—perfect, I wasn’t actually late.
I hopped off the bus and into the cold again. Even though my family was from Tennessee, I would never get used to the Michigan winters.
With the snow crunching beneath my feet, I slipped and slid all the way to the restaurant. But halfway there, I slipped on the ice and busted my ass.
Ugh, that was going to be a huge bruise. Though, no one would see it since it was on my ass.
Except Sam, a small snarky little voice in my head reminded me. It was the first time I ever really gave a fuck about blemishes on my body. I wanted to be perfect for him.
I got myself up and continued on my way to the restaurant, my ass aching. I pushed my way into the door, uniform in my bag, and made a beeline to the bathroom. In the mirror, I pulled down my pants and examined the injury.
It was already a red welt, and it had scraped the skin. Would Sam be pissed? Something told me that Sam would be pissed about this. He would be pissed that I’d gotten hurt.
“Evan!” Sounded a shrill voice and a knock at the door, “Evan you’re up!”
“Fuck,” I hissed under my breath, “Coming right out!”
Sam’s threat echoed in my head: That I better fucking quit this shitty job.
And suddenly I was lost in another fantasy, featuring Sam. How he would touch me, and explore my body, moving his strong hands up and down my form.
I loved how big he was, and I was so curious about the cock he was hiding under his pants. I’d only gotten a small glimpse of it before when we messed around, and I was impressed with what I saw.
I felt my own cock twitch and pulse, eager to get out and explore more of Sam’s body.
“Evan!” Shouted Bernice from outside, her voice cracking into a panic.
I was snapped out of my reverie. I had a job to do.
I pulled on my black pants and black shirt, then put the glasses on. Still too recognizable, I spiked my hair up. Fans usually only saw me with my hair wet and down, when I was swimming.
I knew in my heart this was the worst, most Clark Kent disguise ever. Even so, customers still only really recognized me every once in a great while.
Then I was out of the bathroom and in the back room, greeting all my coworkers. Immediately the orders started flowing in.
My manager Bernice was in an unusually bad mood today; she’d already barked at me twice. I gave a second thought to quitting, but my uncertainty about depending on Sam for my income halted that.
He still hadn’t paid me; I wondered if he ever actually would. In our contract, it said I would get paid at the end of every week, which was already better than this waiter job. But I didn’t fully trust that he would hold up on his word. I was also afraid to bring it up with him, for fear of tainting our …business relationship.
However, if it did work out, then I could quit all of this bullshit. I wouldn’t have to ride the bus here ever again, and instead I could work downtown. That would make spending time studying so much easier and more manageable. And… I could be closer to Sam.
“Evan, you’re on table three.” Bernice said curtly.
Ignoring her tone, I cleaned off my glasses and headed out to the table. It was the same round table from last time, filled with the same women from the bachelorette party last week.
Oh God, no…
They were quiet and giggling when I went out and greeted them.
I put on my best charming face, and greeted them, saying, “Welcome! can I get you ladies started off with any drinks?”
The fact that I was pretending to flirt with women now made me feel all scummy inside. All I could think about was Sam, and couldn’t wait to get done with this shift and spend more time with him.
I wasn’t interested in what these women had to offer me at all – which wasn’t even money.
“We’ll get a round of margs for all of us!” Said the older woman who’d stiffed me on the bill last time.
I asked if they wanted any appetizers, but no, they didn’t. They just wanted drinks. Typical. I had to be nice to them though, because I could feel Bernice’s eyes boring into the back of my head. She was out for blood today for some reason.
I wrote down the table’s orders and headed to the back room, safe in the refuge of the hustle and bustle of similarly black-clad waitstaff.
I loaded up a tray with margaritas from the bartender. Each glass was filled with glowing pastel colors and sparkling with salt crystals stuck around the rim. Walking smoothly and carefully keeping the tray level, I approached the table.
“Here’s one for you, and one for you…” I said, handing them out to the increasingly excited women.
But then I felt a pinch on my ass and I startled, spilling the remaining multicolored drinks all over the table. One of them tipped and shattered, spewing glass everywhere.
The women screamed and hurried away from the table as fast as they could.
“What the hell is going on out there?” Bernice barked from the back of the restaurant, emerging from a door to the back room.
The restaurant fell silent.
I watched as her discerning gaze zipped across the scene, from the table of customers, to me looking surprised, to the spilled drinks on the table. Her eyes narrowed.
I knew I was in deep shit at this point.
“Liz!” She cried, and one of my coworkers emerged from the door behind her.
“Clean up the table for the customers and take care of these poor people. Evan, a word.”
She gestured for me to follow her into the back.
I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that I was about to get fired. Secretly I hoped I would, but I also felt anxiety bubble in my chest at the thought of being yelled at by Bernice.
She marched me into the back room, put her face into her hands, and began crying.
“Evan, I don’t know what to do!” She gushed, pushing her head into my chest.
For a moment I didn’t know what to do, but I wrapped my arms around her, embracing her.
“He just… left me!” She cried, sobbing into my chest. I had known her for a long time, so this felt terrible, like seeing your mother cry. I did my best to comfort her.
“It’s okay,” I comforted.
“N-no, it’s not okay!” She sobbed. “My boyfriend left m-me, and now someone else owns the restaurant!”
I perked up. We were under new ownership? That often meant staff cuts. I pulled away from her, but still had a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”
“We had to sell!” She bawled, getting ahold of herself and pushing her hair back with her hands, trying to collect herself, “and the new owner is here today, and… and I didn’t know it was him, and I was in a terrible mood… oh it’s all such a mess, he’s going to fire me!”
“No one is going to fire you.” I reassured her, looking into her eyes. “The owner is here today?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s sitting out at the bar. I didn’t recognize him. But whatever, it doesn’t matter to you; you’re our highest earner, you’ll be safe. I’m taking you off that table with those horrible women; I’m putting you on bartender duty now.”
My heart lightened. The bar was a good place to be. Just tips, light conversation, and drinks. No food to handle or spill all over everything, and customers could only get as close as you let them.
I went back out there, and walked right up to the bar, and started assisting the bartender by washing some glasses.
Then I looked up at who was there and I saw none other than Sam, sitting there in a suit, his eyes trained on me with a wicked twinkle.
“Hello Evan,” he purred flirtatiously, sipping on some fizzy water.
I nearly dropped my glass.
“S-Sam!”
I went over to him, unable to resist his magnetic pull. This hold he had over me was unexplainable.
I leaned in towards him and smiled, “I didn’t quit.”
“I’m shocked.” He mocked, still training his hazel eyes on me.
“We have a new owner, and everyone here is freaking out that they’re going to get cut.” I explained.
“I know.” He said.
“Huh?”
“It’s me.” He revealed, a wicked smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “I bought this place. And you’re fired.”
14
Sam
I watched as Evan’s jaw dropped to the floor. There was nothing he could do to stop me; I owned this place now.
“What are you going to do to this place?” He asked, his eyebrows coming together in concern. I could tell that he cared a lot about this restaurant; it had some sort of Stockholm Syndrome hold on him.
“I’m going to sell it to one of my friends. He takes small restaurants like this in the Detroit area and turns them around.” I explained.
“But… but what about the staff? Will they be able to keep their jobs?”
I was suspicious for a moment. Was there someone he was concerned about working there? Was there another man he was trying to protect? I took a quick glance around at the waitstaff in the room, and was relieved to find that not one of them was even remotely attractive.
He saw my suspicion and leaned in, explaining softly, “I’m worried about my manager. She’s been good to me, letting me work here and keeping my identity secret. She’s good people. Please let her keep her job?” He begged.
“For you?” I asked, “Of course. But you can’t work here anymore.” I commanded, laying my ground rules.
He brightened, but looked conflicted.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, wanting to make all of his troubles vanish into thin air.
He sighed and said, “I don’t know… if you’re going to pay me.”
I blinked, confused. “What do you mean? Of course I’ll pay you! Do you think I’m not able to do so?” I asked, feeling the anger, the accusation of incompetence getting to me.
“No! Nothing like that.” He clarified, putting his hands up. “I just… I dunno…”
“You don’t trust me,” I deduced. I felt calmer as my rage was smothered by understanding.
He hung his head, looking down, those dark eyelashes flickering around. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, I trust you more than anyone.”
It felt like my soul had been given sustenance at those words.
Evan continued, “I just… haven’t seen any money yet, and I don’t know… I have a lot on the line, you know?”
I could see the fear in his eyes. He was scared, that was all.
“Well, I can give you an advance.” I said, “As per the contract, I thought I had to wait until the end of the week to pay you. But you can have this now. Here’s for six sessions: The two we’ve already done, and the four I’m planning on for the rest of this week.” I calculated, reaching into my pocket for my wallet.
I pulled out a few hundreds and some twenties, counting it out to $1,080, then passed it subtly across the bar to him.
He looked left, and right, and leaned in, whispering, “That’s too much money! I’ve only worked for you for about two hours total, max!”
“I plan to work you even harder this week,” I winked, pushing the stack of cash closer to him. “Consider it an advance. Oh, and…” I pulled out five more 100 dollar bills, “Here’s a signing bonus. Now will you please come work for me and get the hell out of this place?”
I watched conflict stir behind his eyes as his hand slithered across the bar and took the money.
“This is a month and a half of rent for me,” He said, “This feels too good to be true.”
“You feel too good to be true,” I uttered, feeling the vulnerability leak out of my voice.
“Cheesy.” He said, pretending not to be affected by the compliment.
I smiled.
Then there was a huge ruckus and commotion at the table of women near the bar. They were all looking and pointing at Evan, shouting, happily sucking down their second round of drinks.
“Can I help you ladies with something?” I asked them loudly.
“He’s Evan White, and why the fuck isn’t he serving us?!” The middle aged woman shouted. “We paid to come into this shitty little joint so we could have him bring us our food and take care of us!”
Silence fell over the restaurant as the other guests tuned in.
The manager came storming out of the back to see what was going on, but she was enveloped in the silence too. All eyes were on me.
“Ma’am I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” I said calmly, pressing into her with an icy stare.
“And who the fuck do you think you are?” she shouted, her jowls quaking. She wasn’t used to being told what to do.
Before I could answer, Evan cut me off.
“He’s my boyfriend.” He announced with a proud smile.
Jaws around us dropped, including mine. I glanced at him, and he was looking at me. My heart swelled with joy, a joy I had long since abandoned.
“That’s right, I’m his boyfriend,” I confirmed, improvising. I would have to talk to him about this later, to make sure this was real.
It was too good to be true.
“And I’m also the owner of this restaurant. Please politely take your business elsewhere.” I said, a firmness in my voice that was unfamiliar to me.
But being next to Evan, hearing him choose me like that in front of all of these people, made me feel strong. It made me feel invincible.
“Kindly leave.” I commanded again, this time in a more threatening tone.
The middle aged woman’s mouth was agape. She couldn’t believe she was bossed around by someone else.
But here we were, and I was establishing my dominance over this place, and over Evan.
With an indignant “hmph!” she closed her mouth, and all of the ladies at the table got up and gathered their things. The older woman rose up, gathered her purse, shrugged on her coat, and walked out the door without paying. Her flock followed her obediently like a trail of ducklings.
A brunette towards the end of the line still blew Evan a kiss on her way out.
I glanced over to gauge his reaction, but he was looking at me.
That’s when I knew that Evan was mine; all mine.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” I said, taking his hand.
“Wait, one more thing.” He said, pulling his hand away from mine.
I watched as he walked up to the manager in the back; I forgot her name. But they had a few seconds of conversation, and she was smiling. That crinkly-eyed, full-faced smile that only mothers seemed to have.
And suddenly I understood.
But I watched him interact with his manager, and knew in my heart that she had some sort of surrogate mother relationship with him. I had no need to worry, and I swore to myself right then and there that I’d do everything in my power for her to keep her job. When I sold the restaurant to my buddy, that would be a stipulation of the contract.
