Take This Man: Gay Romance Stories (7 page)

“After,” Shawn agrees, reaching for the man he loves, “they’ll be much happier after their nap.”

“Quite right,” Brian agrees, and leans in to kiss him.

TABLE FOR THREE

Jameson Dash

B
ette had her laptop open and paperwork spread across the bar when Toby arrived at the restaurant. “You’re late,” she said. She gave him a look over her reading glasses.

“I thought you worked better without me over your shoulder.”

She shrugged. Then she said, “The new kid starts tonight.” Bette pushed her glasses up into her braids. She reached out and patted his hand when Toby groaned. “You hired him,” she said.

He did, but Toby forgot he was starting tonight. He wanted him in the restaurant as soon as possible, to get him training. Instead of throwing the kid in the deep end of weekend service, they were starting tonight, a Wednesday. It would be a nice, slow night to ease the kid into the job so they didn’t lose another server in another month.

They had lost three to grad school in the last year, and the latest position had already been filled twice. Toby was hoping this kid would stick around.

“Tell me his name again.”

“Mike.”

Toby groaned. “Why would I hire a Mike?” He wandered into the kitchen, Bette’s laughter fading into the sounds of cooks and cooking. He stopped to chat with Mo, who was working out the night’s menu on the back of the day’s receipts.

“Our new server is starting tonight,” Toby said.

Mo nodded. He left that stuff to Toby. Mo took care of the food; Toby took care of the people.

“I’m just saying,” Toby said, trying for a sneak peek at the menu. “Don’t give him a mouthful to recite. He’s a white boy.”

“Good luck tonight,” Mo said, a twisted grin on his face as he passed his back-of-the-receipt notes to Ramon. He did a specials menu every night, with two or three dishes based on what looked interesting at the market that morning.

Toby didn’t care what Mo cooked, just as long as he kept making the
injera
, the flat bread that accompanied every dish. It was the foundation of Ethiopian cuisine, the name of their restaurant, and no one made it better than Mo. He could never admit it out loud, but Toby liked Mo’s injera better than his mother’s.

He was setting up the bar for the night’s service when Parvati showed up. She tied on her server’s apron and took over, setting tables while Bette finished up her paperwork and got out of their way. Injera was a small restaurant, with only two more servers set to show up: Celeste, who would take Toby’s place as host tonight, and Mike, the new kid.

Mike started talking as soon as he arrived, and he didn’t stop all night. Toby tried to hide in the kitchen while Mike was clearing tables, but Ramon kicked him out. “We’re working in here,” he said. Toby escaped behind the bar.

“He’s nice,” Parvati said, waiting with her tray while Toby got her drinks. “I hope he sticks around.”

“If you’re looking for a date, stop right there. There will be no fraternization in my restaurant.”

She laughed over her shoulder on her way back to her tables. Toby had assigned Mike to the four-top in the window and the two seats in the corner. He was over there now, with his hand on a man’s shoulder, and the whole table was laughing along with a joke.

He was good at the job. Toby watched him walk through the restaurant, checking on everyone, not only his tables, before he returned to where Toby was working the bar.

“Having fun?” Toby asked him.

“It’s such a nice place,” Mike said. He leaned across the bar and spoke in a low voice. “The smell is driving me crazy. I’m starving. How do you stand it?”

Mo did a tasting of the specials for the servers, and he had done a few of the classics for Mike to taste along with them, to get an idea of the whole menu. He said he had never eaten Ethiopian food, but he ate with enthusiasm and had spent much of the night suggesting dishes to customers before they even had a chance to decide.

“You eat before you show up for work,” Toby said, deadpan. Mike laughed, so he knew how to take a joke. He was going to get along well at Injera.

“The only thing I have in my fridge right now is beer,” he said. He turned away from Toby to glance around the room. Mike was attentive and pleasant to be around. Toby couldn’t bring himself to complain about the constant questions. He was new. He had a lot to learn. “What about you?” Mike asked, coming around the bar to grab the cloth and wipe it down for something to do. “Is your wife a good cook?”

It had been a long time since Toby had to come out to someone. He encountered people every day who didn’t know, but they didn’t always need to know. Mike would find out, and if he was still here when Azzo arrived to take Toby home, he would find out tonight.

“Husband,” Toby said, an easy correction.

Mike’s mouth fell open, almost comical, but his eyes were also wide, and Toby felt that old, familiar panic reaching up into his throat.

“That’s awesome,” Mike said. Toby didn’t think Mike could be any younger than he already looked. “I have so many questions, man. Where did you meet? How long have you guys been together? Is he hot?”

Toby laughed, but there wasn’t time for any of that, of course. As Mike was inching himself closer, Toby spotted a customer glancing around the room.

“Table five,” he said. Mike jumped, and he was gone, completely professional once more. He would do well here, Toby decided. He would be a good kid to keep around.

After service, after the chairs were up off the floor and Mike was sweeping, Mo wandered out of the kitchen.

“Kid,” he said, loud, so Mike would know who he was talking to. “First night in the restaurant, you have to come out and buy the boys a round.”

Mike went pale, the lights from above making him look gaunt.

“Why are you teasing him?” Toby rinsed their glasses and gathered up his things from behind the bar. Azzo should be there any minute. “We want this one to stick around.”

“You’ll buy a drink for your chef at least,” Mo said, stalking across the room and putting an arm around Mike’s middle. Mike looked down on Mo—at least a head shorter—with a careful smile. He nodded, like he believed that was the way to keep his job.

“Don’t listen to him, Mike.” Toby pulled him away from where Mo was chuckling. He walked Mike to the back, where he put away his broom and picked up his bag. “You don’t have to go out tonight. You might want to work your way up to partying with the kitchen guys. They’re hard-core.”

“Are you coming?” Mike asked. His eyes were big and expectant. He looked so young and made Toby feel so old.

“Azzo’s picking me up,” Toby said.

“That’s your husband? That’s a nice name.”

Back in the dining room, Mo was at the front door. The lights were off, but Toby could hear his husband laughing. They had their arms around each other, holding each other up as each one bent over with a belly laugh.

“I don’t like leaving the two of you alone,” Toby said. He shouldered his bag, and Azzo met him halfway, reaching out his hand, like he couldn’t bear them apart for one more step. “I think you should make it up to me,” he said, putting on his pout for show. Azzo kissed it right off his face.

“Mo said you were flirting,” Azzo said, pulling away from the kiss, but he didn’t go far. He held Toby in his arms as they swayed and turned around the room.

Toby shook his head. “Mike, you should meet my husband.” The kid was nervous. Wiping his hands on his pants, he stepped forward, arm extended in a job-interview handshake. “Our new server, Mike. My husband, Azzo. This is his first night, so be kind.”

Azzo asked, “Did you survive, kid?” Mike didn’t think; he just nodded. “Do you want to come back tomorrow?” Mike answered that one with another nod, no less certain. “Then you’ll do just fine.”

“Should we head out?” Mo asked. He had his hand on the door. “Before my staff drinks all night and leaves me with the tab?”

He led the way, holding the door open as Azzo pulled Toby along. Their feet never tangled when they walked this close. They had been walking this close for years. Mike was the last one out, so Toby tossed him the keys to lock up.

“The kid’s cute,” Azzo said. His voice was low, and his lips brushed Toby’s as he spoke. It was half kiss, half question, and Toby leaned into him for more.

“Stop.” Toby gave him a smack, then dragged them right back together. Up ahead, Mike was walking with Mo, and it looked like Mo was suffering through the same questions that had dogged Toby all night. “He asked about my wife.”

Azzo’s laugh made Mo and Mike turn, Mo giving them a fond, knowing look.

“That’s adorable. I thought I was the straight one.”

“No,” Toby said. “You’re the butch one. There’s a difference.” Azzo was built like a football player. It didn’t matter that he worked pastry for a living.

“Is he—?” Azzo slowed their steps, putting a little more space between them and their friends ahead. The bar that the Injera staff—actually, most of the restaurant staff on their street—liked best wasn’t far. They could walk there after service and stumble home after beer. “I mean, I have my guess, but has he said anything to you?”

“He’s gay,” Toby said. Mike hadn’t, actually, said anything to him, but he was too curious about Toby’s relationship to be just another straight college boy. “He didn’t say anything, but yeah.”

Toby watched them up ahead, Mike turning back to check that he and Azzo were still behind them, flushing and whipping his eyes front when he saw Toby watching.

“Look at that crush,” Azzo said, his voice warm against Toby’s ear. “He doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

“What do you want to do with him?” Toby stared over at Azzo. “Should I be worried?”

“Could be fun.”

As the crowds grew, closer to the bars and clubs still open at this time of night, they walked apart, then came back together, their hands always tangled, never letting go. Azzo kept Toby on his left side, walking between him and the people standing outside for a smoke.

“Could be fun?” Toby asked, incredulous and too loud over the music and conversation.

“I’m not saying that. Jesus, Toby, what are you saying?”

“You said ‘could be fun’!”

Azzo laughed, pressing his forehead to Toby’s shoulders, and when Toby put his arms around him, he could feel Azzo shaking with it. “You’re so easy.” He smacked a kiss on Toby’s cheek, wet and loud. “Bet you’re thinking about it now.”

Someone called their names from the far end of the bar. Toby had to stop to say hi to Veronika behind the bar, and she demanded a kiss from Azzo, too, who didn’t often come out with them. Toby went out after service less and less, too. They had done their time, when they were kids, in dingy bars like this.

The back room was quieter, but not by much. The guys from Tanuki brought a huge platter of sushi, and Toby could smell roast chicken. The food at restaurant after-parties was the best.

Josh and Lina, a couple they knew who also worked in separate restaurants, grabbed Azzo’s attention. Toby said hi, but they were all pastry chefs, and the conversation quickly turned shop. They held hands, and Toby stood close, pressing his chest to Azzo’s side, but he scanned the room, quietly enjoying the excitement between friends after such a long day.

His eyes locked on Mike, leaning back against the bar. Toby gave him a smile. The look on Mike’s face wasn’t as obvious, and then he turned away. Toby was still watching as he talked to the bartender pulling pints, and when Mike walked their way he had three glasses in his two hands.

“You looked thirsty,” he said, letting Toby take the beers from his hands. Toby passed one to Azzo, who raised it in a toast of thanks.

“Keep this one, Toby.” Azzo turned fully toward Mike, holding Toby with a hand low on his back, their bodies curved together. “This is your job now,” Azzo explained to Mike. “Making sure my neurotic husband doesn’t implode by the end of the night.”

“Is he prone to doing that?” Mike asked. He took a big gulp of his beer, keeping his face in the glass.

“No,” Toby argued. “I’m extremely capable and very professional.”

Azzo chuckled deep in his chest. “He’s high-strung, and a Saturday night theater crowd will send him hiding in the kitchen.”

“I never hide,” Toby said, but he admitted to himself that he liked seeing Mike and Azzo getting along, even if it was at his own expense. Their tiny circle of three felt like an island in the big room filled with chefs, cooks, bartenders, servers and the rest of the late night crowd. They were turned and tuned into each other, and the way Mike kept looking the two of them up and down, Toby was ready to invite him somewhere quiet.

“How about coffee?” Azzo said, his beer not even half-empty. Toby was only sipping his. He already felt light-headed, in the stuffy back room, with Azzo holding him so close.

Mike nodded along with Azzo’s suggestion. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, but not from the beer, Toby could tell. He could tell by the way Mike was sure on his feet, but his free hand was rubbing over his thigh, wiping dry his sweaty palms, and when Toby looked down, he saw Mike hard in his trousers.

“There will be more of these parties,” Azzo said. “You’re not missing much.”

He led them both to the bar, where they dropped their glasses. Toby took one more gulp of beer, then they slipped out without saying good-bye. He wasn’t ready to explain this to Mo or Josh and Lina or Veronika behind the bar. Toby wasn’t sure he could explain this at all.

“This isn’t where I thought the night would end up,” Mike admitted. “Do you guys do this a lot?”

Azzo laughed, a single bark in the empty alleyway. “We’ve never done this before.”

“We don’t have to do this,” Toby said. He reached out and took Mike’s hand when he said it. “It’s just an idea, a bit of a fantasy.”

“How long have you two been together?”

Smiling, Azzo pulled Toby back to him. He rubbed his nose over Toby’s cheek. “Twenty-two years.”

“Jesus,” Mike said. He ducked his head, and when he looked back up at them, he grinned and said, “I’m twenty-two.”

Azzo’s car was about a block away, parked behind his restaurant. He opened the passenger side first, kissing Toby against the open door. Toby was already hardening in his pants, feeling that lovely edge that meant he would get to come soon. When they pulled away from each other’s lips, Mike was staring, though he looked away as soon as Toby looked up. He didn’t want to be caught, but Toby caught him.