Date: Fri, 28 Dec 2007 15:11:56 -0800 (PST)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: For Sale By Owner 36

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"For Sale By Owner" 36
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Psssst. Hey guys!" Jim shouts.

"What's up?" Ian asks, in response to Alex and Phil
wondering also, as the trio follows Jim's waving hand,
as much as to say, `come here', luring them into the
`free zone'.

Phil, whom came on duty at four, whips a white towel
over his shoulder, then directs to Jim, "What's all
the hush-hush about?"

"I overheard Billy-boy talking on the phone.. the
reason he's been wearing a chip on his shoulder all
day." After Jim does a quick `boss-search', he tells
them, "Billy-boy thinks his job is on the line."

"What?" Alex says, meant to stir up interest.

"Yeah. Seems Billy-boy asked the owners for a raise.
They didn't give. In fact, they feel his management
isn't bringing in half the revenue The Coffee Bean is
capable of producing."

"Not after today," Ian says, driving the point home
with wiping his brow.

"Geesh," Alex intervenes, "no wonder Billy-boy has
been on our cases all day."

Ian comes out with, "On your case, Alex? Yeah, right."

"Oh? How's that go?" Alex and Phil both question at
once.

"Billy-boy, in one of his fits, asks me `Why can't the
rest of you guys be as motivated as Alex'?'"

Perking up, Alex smiles, replying, "Oh wow! And I
thought he was gunning for me too!"

"Of course," Jim confuses the issue, "he would say
that to the only guy I ever knew who drew in a $200
tip offa one customer?"

Eyes just about popping out of their sockets, Phil
shrieks, "Hell yeah, like I've been here six years and
the highest I've ever picked up is a fifty!"

Alex corrects him, "Two customers."

"Big deal," Jim replies, "same table."

"What are we gonna do?"

"What do you mean Derek?" Jim asks.

"Well, we can't stand around and let him get fired.
The guy's got a wife and kid at home."

"Yeah," Jim lays out, "a mansion in Jersey?" Then
sarcastically, "I really feel sorry for the guy."

"That's not the point here," Alex defends Miller.

"Sure, he likes you!" Ian says to Alex.

Taking in a deep breath, Alex respectfully says, "I'm
sure Mr. Miller likes all of us. Wouldn't you get on
the edge if your job was on the line?"

Derek, who's been there the shortest, after Alex,
tosses in, "Not really. There's plenty of cafes in New
York."

"Oh yeah? You think it could be any different," Jim,
the longest surviving employee states, "I started when
The Coffee Bean opened. Before they had the profit to
pay a cleaner I used to swab the jon floors, clean the
sinks and toilets. I worked my way up to maitre'd,
plus have a nice chunk in my paycheck. For sure I'm
not going to give all that up."

Jim's ad-libbed speech went over well. Even Derek
resolved to hang his head to his chest and brew in the
heap of words.

"Up until now, Miller's been a decent guy," Phil says.


"So, he has one bad hair day," Ian says.

Alex adds, "That doesn't mean everyday is going to be
like this one."

Derek puts forth, "I guess we could cut him some
slack."

"And we can do better," Jim throws in.

"How?" Derek asks.

"By being more on top of things."

Alex then apologizes with, "Like I don't have to
really cater to somebody just because they prefer me."

"No," Jim says, "That was good. You handled it well,
Alex and it's not just the tips. The two customers
hung in there for hours. They ran up a nice bill."

"Um, I get the idea you knew these customers?" Phil
asks, not having been present at the time.

"Sort of. Well, one of them. Stephen Braddock," Alex
filled them in.

Phil's eyes again opened as wide as saucers. "'The'
Stephen Braddock of Braddock's Department stores?"

"Yeah," Derek tells him, "Ain't Alex a lucky guy?"

"It doesn't mean anything," Alex said humbly. "I met
him through a friend. I hardly know the guy."

"Sure you don't," Ian replies. "$200 tip?"

"I swear," Alex says, crossing an `x' over his heart.
"I just met him a couple of weeks ago."

Patting Alex on the shoulder, Jim said, "Some guys
have all the luck."

Diverting the attention away from himself, Alex says,
"I'll tell you one thing which will draw in more
customers...."

The gang of waiters were all ears. It took Jim to dig
the idea out of Alex, "If you've got something which
will improve business, we could have Miller bring it
to the owners' attention."

"Yeah," Ian adds, "if Miller came up with a great idea
which increased business, he'd be back on top with the
owners."

"Well," Alex started out slowly, not sure of his
footing, "in my own opinion, I think the atmosphere of
The Coffee Bean is degraded by the coffee bar."

"'My' coffee bar?" Jim defended his station in between
seating patrons, his hand to his heart, plastered to
his beefy pec.

"Sure," Alex trodded lightly on his idea, "think of
it, `take out'. How much do we make on the coffee
bar?"

"The line went outside today," Jim defended his
position.

"Right, but over the last two weeks, there's been four
or five people on line, tops. But it's not the point
I'm making. What kind of profitability is turned
over?"

Alex's question stimulated Jim into thinking, matching
food with figures, in the air. "I guess on the
average, we pull in about.... wow!" Suddenly Jim takes
a look at the raw figures, spewing out, "Do we only
take in forty or fifty bucks in a morning?"

"That's piddly-squat," Phil says, "When I was on the
morning shift, a table I waited on brought in fifty
bucks. Multiply that times ten."

They all figured it out in their minds. Feeling
conquered, Jim steps over to the coffee bar, a long
counter, the workings set back two feet behind it.
"Holy cow! You're right, Alex. If this unproductive
space could be converted to tables, we'd be pulling in
a helluva lot more!"

Suddenly, they all stood tall, softly repeating in
formation, "Uh-oh," when they heard Miller, right
behind them question their idleness. Like they were on
strike, three of the four pushed Alex in front of him,
like they were using him for a shield.

"Okay. What's up guys? Don't give me any more hassles.
It's been `a day'."

Jim stole away, to seat a couple, first to start off
the late afternoon crush. Alex without Jim, seemed a
little reluctant, but then figured `what the heck' and
lay out his feelings to Miller. After all had been
said, Miller simply put it, "Okay. Back to work." The
trio broke up, walking away. "Except you, Alex,"
Miller said, beckoning him on back to the office.

%

"Some place you've got here," Scott said, upon the two
gaining entrance to Kyle's townhouse.

"Thanks." Noticing Scott's back pinned to the door, he
offered, "You can come in!"

Entering the livingroom, Scott whistled, exclaiming,
"Geesh! We could fit my mom's whole apartment into
this one room!"

"Really?" Kyle replied, then changed the subject,
"This is my brother's room over here if you want to
stash your gear."

With one pack, sloped over his bare shoulder, the
other in hand, scooped up with his shirt, Scott walked
the distance to Knapp's bedroom. "Whoa! Wish I had a
bedroom even half this size!" He stood there, turning
around, as if on a carousel, eyeing the four walls up
and down, taking in the distance between.

"You'll get over it," Kyle giggled. "The jon is
through here."

"You mean I get my own private jon?" Scott said with
bewilderment.

"Sure. Throw your bags on the chair. You can unpack
later. There's plenty of towels and washcloths here
and the shower is filled with all kinds of soaps,
shampoos and conditioners. My brother was a `clean'
freak."

Scott looked the place over, admiring how clean and
spotless everything was, as if cleaned five minutes
ago. He stood in the middle panel of the glass shower
door, seeing himself, bare from waist up, a line down
his right pec, where the backpack crisscrossed over
his top half. Feeling his chest, he thought out loud,
"Yeah, I guess I could use a shower."

"I'll be upstairs taking mine. Meet you in the
kitchen."

Stuck in his reflection, he discovers, "Oh, where's
the...."

But Kyle was gone. Shrugging it off, he figured he
would do some exploring.

%

"So, you going to clue us into what took place in
there?" Jim asks Alex upon closing the office door
behind him, advancing through the `free zone' to the
front desk where Jim stood.

"Nothing much to say. He liked the idea. Right now
he's pulling all the journals, doing some research
into it and figuring out the pro's vs. the con's."

"Cool," Jim replied.

"I even got a compliment from him."

"Oh?" Jim wondered.

"He said if things proved out where a change became
feasible, I could have a bright future in the
restaurant management business."

"But I thought you were into designing menswear?" Jim
questioned the motive.

"I am. It's what I told Billy-boy. Funny thing is, he
looked a little disappointed I wasn't into pursuing
the here and now," Alex filled Jim in.

"Who knows?" Jim turned his shoulders inwards,
shrugging them, "maybe someday you can design us some
snappier waiter outfits, other than the standard white
shirt-black bowtie."

Alex remained silent for a second, smiling at Jim.

"What?"

Letting Jim get wise to his demeanor, Alex retorted,
patting Jim on the shoulder as if congratulating him,
"Now there's another idea to present to Billy-boy.
Jim, I think you have a future in the restaurant
business!"

"Do you think he will like my idea?"

Shrugging one shoulder, Alex, reported back, "I don't
see where it could harm things to suggest."

Holding up his index finger, to make a directive, Jim
states, "You know you're right, Alex. I'm going right
back there now and suggest it to Billy-boy!"

>From the back Jim looked like a football lineback, the
wide shoulderblades moving in a rather tight shirt,
seemingly caught between a size too big and one too
small. Looking at the clock he had roughly an hour
left to wait. A gentlemen waved, catching his
attention. Alex reported to his table.

"The big-shouldered waiter was waiting on me, but I
don't seem to see him around?"

Leaving Jim to being on cloud nine, Alex took over
waiting for him. The whole time he stood there,
leather ordering pad glued to his left palm, writing
with his right hand, he got the idea this customer was
reading his body like the front page of the New York
Times.

"Are you a college student?" the guy asked Alex, in
between making sure his bagel came with a double heap
of cream cheese.

"Um, yes. Almost. I've been in New York for about two
weeks."

"You've done alright for yourself, um...."

"Alex," Alex said, knowing the patron was looking for
a name to attach to the bod he was checking out.

Offering his hand, the guy, seemingly between his late
twenties, early thirties, introduced himself.

Speaking in a baritone voice, he offered, "The name's
Jason Hovland. I'm director of customer services at
Time magazine. We're always looking for polite
individuals to enhance the services offered by our
department. Interested?"

Thinking it a step down from working at a prestigious
cafe, Alex didn't want to make it seem like the way he
thought. Though, he did make extra effort to stare at
his hand, still in Mr. Hovland's.

"Oh sorry there, Alex."

"No problem. Um, I'd like to thank you for the offer.
I read Time all the time (a little fib). It's a great
magazine, but I like my job here at The Coffee Bean."

Wanting to stay in touch, Hovland handed Alex his
business card, after jotting down something on the
back. Taking it, Alex flipped it over in his hand,
seeing ten numbers, separated by two dashes.

"My number, in case you change your mind," Hovland
said.

"Thanks," Alex replied, offering a smile. Then
excusing himself, he said, "I better get on your
order. I'm sure you are a very busy man."

An hour later, when he was supposed to leave, Alex
spotted Jim hastening his step from the back office, a
toothy smile on his face.

"I take it Billy-boy liked your idea?"

"Yup and guess what else?"

Signifying he hadn't a clue, by his actions, Alex
asked, "What?"

"If Billy-boy passes by the idea with the owners and
they like it, he said he'll mention one of our waiters
is a designer!"

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who
that someone was.

"Hey, thanks!" Alex said cheerfully, adding, "By the
way," he looks at his watch, "I'm supposed to be
getting off shift, but one of my customers," then
poking Jim in the ribs, with his pointer finger, "one
of `your' customers has been sitting there, packing
away the food for an hour. What do you want me to do?"

Looking over the divider wall, filled with robust live
plants, Jim says, "Hovland?"

"You know him?"

Gently laughing, Jim fills Alex in, "Sort of. He comes
in now and then checking out the young hirees, trying
to wish a job on them for his customer service
division at Time."

"So he says. What do you want me to do?"

"One question?" Jim asked.

Alex countered, "What?"

"When he popped the question to you, did you flat out
refuse the offer?"

"Um, not exactly. I figured he had a prestigious
position and was trying to sway me with a righteous
offer. I figured he was being honest about it. I let
him down easy."

"Good. Hang in there for awhile. You'll be one of the
lucky ones."

Hands on hips, brows pressed together, his look
questioned Jim's motives.

Slapping Alex in the stomach with the back of his
hand, Jim translated, "Big tip!"

"Okay. If you say so."

Reporting back to the table, Alex asked, "Will that be
all, Mr. Hovland?"

"I know I shouldn't, but I think I'll have one more
cup of coffee and a sliver of your famous cheesecake."

"Right away. It'll be out in a minute, Mr. Hovland."

Then, grabbing the cuff of Alex's shirt, attached to
his forearm, Hovland offered, "Please. Call me Jason."

Blushing a little, Alex did what he thought was right,
acknowledging in the positive. When reporting back to
the table, he set the cheesecake in front of him,
adding, "A fresh pot of coffee is almost ready. I'll
bring it right out, Mr.... ah, I mean, Jason."

Returning the smile offered, Alex lit out for the
kitchen. Before he could enter, Jim was holding the
carafe and a wide-mouthed coffee cup, smiling.

"How are you doing?" He asked Alex.

"I should be getting home. My boyfriend is preparing
dinner for four. Other than that, we're on a first
name basis."

"Well, just service him and I'll take care of the
bill," Jim told him.

"Great!"

Reporting back to Hovland's table, Alex set the fresh
cup on a saucer, pouring a fresh cup.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hovland, but..."

"Jason, please," Hovland reminded Alex, with a smile.

"Yes. Um, Jason. Ah, I'm scheduled to leave, but it's
been great meeting you."

This time, Alex offered the hand first, which Hovland
amicably returned the gesture.

All he said, with the smile frozen in place, is, "You
have my card."

%

"Wow! I don't believe you threw that baked Alaska
together so quickly, Scott!"

Smiling, shrugging his shoulders, Scott blushed
slightly, saying, "Thanks. It's one of my best
concoctions."

"It doesn't look any different from the basic recipe."

"You can see it with the creamy top, but underneath I
use a thin layer of dusted cinnamon sugar."

"Mmmm," Kyle says, licking his lips. "I can't wait to
try it."

"Do you have room in the freezer?"

Together, Scott taking the ceramic dish, topped with
the whipped, browned eggwhites, followed Kyle to the
fridge.

"Yep, right in here."

Holding the springy door in one hand, Kyle fixed a
rectangular pound of butter falling over. The side of
his body grazed Scott's ribcage. Neither made a big
deal about it, lying the pie flat and closing up the
freezer portion of the fridge.

Then, looking at the clock on the wall, Kyle states,
"Alex is late. Subway must be slow." Just now, the
buzzer rang. Kyle explains, "I don't have a key for
Alex yet."

However, instead of Alex, Carlos stood there. Kyle and
he exchanged a friendly hug. Walking past Kyle, Carlos
holds his arms open wide, surrounding Scott and
saying, "And you must be Derek!"

"Um, Carlos?" Kyle tried to stop the action before it
got started.

But it was too late. Carlos had already flung his arms
around Scott, given him a sweet kiss on the neck, due
to Alex's instructions of not worrying about being
over-friendly to Derek. Scott stood there, eyes as
wide as saucers, jaw dropped open, arms out to his
side, palms facing Kyle, as if to ask `what do I do?'
Already knowing what he knew, Kyle placed his palms on
his own biceps, making like he was hugging himself.
But before he could do anything, Carlos had disengaged
his actions. Scott stood there, looking at Carlos, as
Carlos looked at him.

"I'm sorry," Carlos said out of the blue, still
thinking this was Derek. "From what Alex said, I
thought...."

Patting Carlos on the shoulder, pivoting him around,
as if on an axis, Kyle says, "Carlos... this is `not'
Derek."

"Huh?" Carlos said, looking from Kyle to Scott, then
back again, adding, "But Alex called me today and
said...."

"I know he did. He was supposed to call you back and
tell you that Derek couldn't make it. This is Scott."

"Scott?" Carlos repeats.

All this time, Scott is standing there, taking in the
whole conversation, not flinching a muscle, arms
draped to his sides, head bobbing back and forth,
following the words.

"Well," Carlos fake-coughed, "I guess I owe you a big
apology.. um, Scott."

Kyle just smiled. Even in times of mishap, things
don't always have to turn out so grim. He wondered if
this was the first time Scott has been close to a man.
Maybe he was in shock!

"I'm sooo, so sorry," the Latino offered, putting his
hand out, his brown, puppy dog eyes asking for
forgiveness.

Scott, taking it, didn't readily let it go, yet it
provided less of a spark than when Carlos hugged him,
played the soft kiss on the side of his neck, sending
volts of electricity down his spine, throughout his
whole system.

"It's okay," Scott slowly offered. "I..."

Looking over Carlos' shoulder, Kyle's gesture once
again provoked Scott's thoughts, gesturing to hug him.


"Dammit!" Scott said, pulling on Carlos' arm, like
forcing him into a swimming pool. But instead, moving
forwards, their chests slapped together, Scott, rather
harshly, hugged Carlos as if he was hugging his
mother. Following Carlos' lead, Scott did what he did
before, gave him a kiss on the side of the neck.

Breaking, unmolding their bods, Carlos blows out his
breath, opinioned, "Well I've never been hugged like
`that' before!"

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.