Date: Wed, 1 Feb 2017 09:43:00 -0600
From: Kurt King <kingkurt1339@gmail.com>
Subject: The New Life of Cal King Chapter 2

	This story may contain sexual acts between males, persons below the
age of consent, and relatives. If this offends you or is illegal for you to
read where you're at, please close this website and go elsewhere.

	This story is fictional and entirely the work of the author's
imagination. And resemblance to persons, places, or things, real or
fictional, are entirely coincidental, and any views stated do not
necessarily reflect those of any companies or organizations which do exist
in real life, nor necessarily reflect the views of the author.

	This story is the property and copyright of the author, do not
share, reproduce, repost, or any other such act which is illegal to do
without the author's permission.

	Don't forget that you can always contact me to give me feedback! I
can be found at kingkurt1339@gmail.com, and I do my best to respond to
every email if I can! Any comments, questions, or suggestions are always
welcome, especially as I'm constantly changing events that happen in the
story, and will be publishing other stories!

	My other story can be found at the folowing link:
	NLXK:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/young-friends/the-new-life-of-xander-king/

	As always – don't forget to donate to Nifty at
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the archive free!

	This story is not a quick jack-off story. If you are looking for
that, you would be best going to another story. If you are interested in
not just the sex, but also the lives of the characters and their romances
and dramas, then read on, and I hope you enjoy it!

	In the last chapter, we met Cal King as he was looking for a new
job, finding one at the Wolf's Dragon, a fancy restaurant not far from the
trailer park he lives in.

~~Chapter Two – There Are Seven Sauces~~

[Cal]

	The moment I wake up, I feel weight and warmth all around
me. Travis normally ends up in my bed during the night, but it seems all
three ended up in my bed. Probably because they got home and I wasn't home,
like they thought I'd be. I want to know why they came home yesterday
instead staying at the friends' house.

	Slowly and carefully, I extract myself from my bed, then look down
at my brothers. Like me, they all sleep naked. When I stopped doing it
after Travis started climbing into bed at night, all three of them started
asking me why I stopped when they started, and so I gave up on not going
naked.

	Travis is twelve, and is sort of like a miniature me. He looks just
like I did when I was twelve (including looking younger than he really is),
with my hair and eyes. The twins, who are ten, are identical, though they
share our sandy-blond hair, and their eyes are a mix of blue and gray that
get them a lot of attention from girls.

	Back to Travis, though. I have suspicions that he's gay, and not
just because he's a miniature me. Part of it is that lately, he's been
asking me all sorts of questions about gays, such as how I knew I was gay
and all that fun stuff. Part of it's because I found porn in the browser
history on the computer, as well as sites that talked about homosexuality,
all of it dealing with youth and knowing they are and all that. I doubt
it's either of the twins, being ten, as they probably haven't gotten that
far into questioning their sexuality yet. Admittedly, I did know when I was
ten that I was into boys, but I doubt they're that aware.

	Checking the time, I notice that it's eight in the morning, the
latest I have ever slept in, and I've never known them to be asleep at this
time. They usually wake around six-thirty, when I'm making breakfast. We're
early risers. Wow was I exhausted, and now I wonder how late they stayed up
trying to wait for me, and how long they were up before they fell back
asleep. For the latter, probably not long, out once they got into bed with
me.

	I pull on some shorts and a shirt, then head to the kitchen to make
pancakes, eggs, and sausage. We've got some frozen blueberries left, and so
I use up the little bit left in the pancakes, knowing the boys will be
happy with that. We can probably afford more when we go shopping tomorrow.

	As I'm finishing up, all three of them come walking into the
kitchen. Normally, Travis wakes up first, smelling the food shortly after I
start cooking, and makes his way to me, then the twins pick up the
scent. He probably tried waking them up, and while Henry probably woke up
quickly, Greyson's been a lot quieter and sleeping a fair bit more lately,
becoming harder to wake.

	"Morning, boys," I say as they quietly sit at the table. "How come
you're home and not at the Johnson's?"

	"They started fighting," Travis answers as Greyson yawns. "And it
wasn't stopping, so we left. They'll probably divorce. I hope Brady and
Branden get to keep living here."

	Bradey is Travis's age, and his best friend. Braden is really close
friends with Henry, and thinks Greyson's weird, mostly because Greyson
won't talk to anyone outside of us, so no one's ever heard his voice
outside of us. A lot of his classmates thinks he's weird because of that,
though, so we don't pay it much mind.

	I am worried, though, that he's not talking much around us lately.

	"How come you weren't here when we got home?" Henry asks.

	"I got a job," I start serving them. "And was asked to start right
away. I worked until eleven, and left after that, getting home around
quarter-after."

	"Only fifteen minutes?" Travis looks confused. "Where'd you get a
job at?"

	"The Wolf's Dragon."

	"That restaurant around the corner from us?" He asks. "The one you
have to go up a path through some woods to get to?"

	"Yeah, that one," I answer.

	"They let you in there?" He asks, though all three of them look
astonished.

	"They'd probably let runts like you three in, too," I laugh, taking
my seat and watching as Greyson silently soaks his breakfast - pancakes,
sausages, eggs, and all - with syrup. "Watch it, there, Greyson, someone
might think you're trying to become sweeter."

	He blushes, setting the syrup down and starting to eat, and that
starts us all eating. We don't talk much during breakfast or lunch, usually
only during dinner, when I'm asking them how school went. The four of us
don't talk much to each other to start with, which surprises people when
they see us hanging out somewhere and see how close we are.

	When breakfast is over, Travis helps me clean the dishes, then I
get changed for work, looking at the three of them and thinking.

	"Is that your uniform?" Travis asks.

	"Hm?" I look at him. "Yeah, it is, though I've got an apron at
work. I can decorate it how I want, so I'll probably take an extra one or
two home and decorate them, then bring them back in and that one home,
decorate it, and bring it in, so I can rotate it. Need to find out exactly
what the limits are."

	"You can decorate your aprons?" Travis looks excited. "How can you
decorate them?"

	"That's what I need to find out," I say. "They probably mean for
just the name, though."

	"Aw," he makes a sad face.

	"Did you three get your homework done?" I ask. "Since you came home
early?"

	I should have made them do their homework on Friday, but stuff
happened, and homework didn't.

	"Yes," he nods. "And I checked theirs, too, but you'll probably
need to recheck it."

	"I'm sure it's fine," I kiss him on the forehead. "But I'm going to
double check when I get home from work anyway. You boys behave, and if you
get hungry, there's food in the fridge. Leftovers, but still. Or you can do
sandwiches, you know how to do grilled cheese. Unfortunately, we're pretty
much out of the extras, so it'd just be bread, butter, and cheese."

	"That's fine," Travis hugs me. "When are you going to be home?"

	"Not sure when I get off," I answer. "It was implied I'll be
working until nine, though I'll probably get off earlier than that. Think
you can handle them all day?"

	"Yeah," he nods. "You've been watching us since before you were my
age, and we're older now. We'll be fine. Have fun at work."

	Travis steps back, and then Greyson and Henry tackle me, giving me
hugs. I kiss them each on their foreheads, then tell them to get their
chores done before I get home. After that, I leave, making my way to the
restaurant.

	As David said, the first door's unlocked, and the second door is
locked. A moment after I'm in the room, though, Emily's exiting the hall,
hurrying to open the door.

	"How'd you sleep?" She asks as I enter. She's already got a massive
smile on her face. "Hope it wasn't too hard."

	"Was out like a light the moment my head hit the pillow," I
laugh. "I was exhausted. Why are we here so early? Do we have anything to
do before we open at eleven?"

	"Normally, we just need one of us here," she says. "To make sure
the windows and the lobby are clean. But since you're new, we figured we'd
let you check out the whole menu, as well as get to sample some of what we
make. The chefs are already in the back, prepping today's stuff. We get
fresh produce and meat every day, even in the winter. There's this guy that
lives outside of town, younger guy.
	"His family's supplied the restaurant for over forty years now,
every single day, with our produce. They drop off the meat, too, though
they're only the delivery for it. Trey's parents died, leaving him the
property, right after he turned eighteen. Car crash, and it was awful. We
paid for the grave and the funeral, and supplied the food at the ceremony."

	Her words might seem bland, but there's actual emotion in her voice
as she says that. She knew these people, and she honestly thinks it's sad
that they're gone.

	For the next forty-five minutes, the chefs prepare small dishes and
let me taste them. Never enough to fill me up, just enough to let me know
what things taste like. Three appetizers, three sides, three entrees, and
three desserts. Then they bring out a cake, telling me it's a late birthday
cake for me, and that I would've had it before my shift yesterday had they
had more warning. Made here, and it's so moist. They really are good
chefs. I can see why people still come here in the day of laziness.

	I also learn a bit about the workers. Emily's not the only friendly
member, so is Amy, and so is Braden, one of the two chefs. Braden's got
blond hair and brown eyes, while his husband, Garret, the other chef, has
black hair and blue eyes. Garret's silent, but I get the feeling he could
easily break my neck. He just gives me a quick 'hey' when I greet him.

	I didn't notice a sink in the kitchen, just a door to the room
where the dish washing station is, judging by the wall where we send the
dirty dishes. That's got a sort of curtain to it, so that we don't see
who's in there. I'm curious to know who washes our dishes.

	"So," I look at Emily as we're walking out to the front from the
kitchen. "Do you ever stop smiling?"
	All three of the chefs crack up into laughter at that, and Emily
laughs, too.

	"What?" I ask.

	"We always smile when dealing with customers," she says. "You did
great on that yesterday."

	"You haven't been not smiling all day," I say. "And there are no
customers here."

	"Well," she says. "If I smile at all times, it ensures that I never
stop while dealing with customers. We're typically a little slower on
Sundays until around twelve-thirty, so I'll observe you until then, helping
when you need it. Then we'll get the after-church rush, and then it'll
quiet down until around five, when we get our evening rush. David will
probably cut you out right after that finishes, he won't want to keep you
here that late with you having school tomorrow."

	I manage to do well through the morning, going to lunch at three,
when it's slowed down again. I'm told that we can eat for free while we're
here, just let them know what I want about ten minutes before my lunch
begins, but not to eat heavy, because it'll mess with me as I work.

	I order a spaghetti, and I get about half of the normal amount,
which is usually a fairly large portion. By the time the dinner rush hits,
I'm glad I wasn't given a full serving, I would've slowed down so much.

	Then, during the busy time of dinner, I get a pair of women in
expensive clothes and jewelry that I can tell are going to be problem
customers from the moment I see them. One places her order without an
issue, though she doesn't look at me once during it.

	"And I'd like the spaghetti," the other woman says.

	"Would you like sauce with that, ma'am?" I ask.

	"Yes," she says. "Now go get our food, we haven't got all evening."

	"Which kind of sauce would you like?" I ask. "We have several
kinds, including-"

	"The one with the meat," she says.

	"We have two different sauces with meat-" I begin.

	"Yes, yes, I know," she waves her hand dismissively. "I'm in here
all the time. I don't want the sauce with meatballs, just get me the sauce
with meat."

	"Yes, ma'am," I scribble her order down on my pad. "I'll be back in
just a minute with your appetizers."

	I make my way to the back and hang up the order. I grab their
appetizers and serve them, returning a bit later with their food.

	"What is this?" The woman who ordered the spaghetti practically
screams. "This isn't what I ordered! I ordered spaghetti with meat sauce!
This incompetence!"

	"You did, indeed," I say. "However, when I attempted to ask which
of the six sauces we have that use meat you wished for, you simply said
'the one without meatballs'. As the meatballs is only for the red sauces,
and the pesto doesn't get meat, that left only the white sauce and its
grilled chicken meat. I gave you exactly what you ordered."

	"I'm in here all the time!" She screams. "I always order the same
thing! This isn't what I ordered!"

	"On the contrary, ma'am," I say. "This is exactly what you ordered:
spaghetti with meat sauce, but not the sauce that has meatballs. That
leaves, as previously stated, only the white sauce with grilled chicken."

	"I'm in here all the time!" She's starting to sound like a broken
record.

	Everyone's watching us at this point, and Emily is on her way over
from the other end, probably to try to calm her down.

	"And so," I interrupt the customer's rant. "You should know by now
that we carry six different types of meat sauce, with five of those being
red sauces, two of those being meatballs. As the red sauce is the one that
can come with meatballs, and the green sauce doesn't have meat, if you want
the meat sauce that doesn't have meatballs as an option, then you're
ordering our white sauce with grilled chicken. If you want a red sauce,
then the three options we have that don't include meatballs would be ground
beef, ground pork, and grilled chicken. However, as stated, the red sauce
is the one that has meatballs as one of its meat options. Two of them,
actually."

	"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!" Now she's yelling in my face.

	"Ma'am," I say. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop screaming."

	"I WILL HAVE YOU FIRED!" She screams. "I'M IN HERE ALL THE TIME!
I-"

	"Need to lower your voice," I say. "Take a few deep breaths, maybe
even meditate. A massage might be nice. Have you ever been to a spa?"

	"YOU'RE NOT GETTING A TIP TONIGHT!"

	"That's fine," I shrug. "I'm sixteen, I don't expect much in way of
tips, due to my age. I don't really need your tip. Not that I'd want one
from someone who's insistent on screaming in my face. I'm going to have to
ask you one last time to get out of my face."

	"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"

	"About what?"

	"ABOUT ME NOT GETTING OUT OF YOUR FACE!"

	"What about that?"

	"WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT?"

	"About what?" I ask.

	"DON'T YOU PLAY GAMES WITH ME! I AM AN ADULT!"

	"Adults don't play games," I pull my notebook out of my apron and
write that down. "Guess that ruins the game of Rummy I was going to ask
Emily and the rest of the staff if they'd play with me next time we've got
time to kill before we open."

	"DON'T YOU PLAY GAMES WITH ME!" She grabs my wrist.

	I twist my arm, switching who's grabbing who, and slam her face
into the table, her hand thrust into her back. It's a very painful position
to be in.

	"And now you've broken the law," I say. "Having assaulted a
minor. If you attempt to involve the police in this, then they will be
shown the video footage of the incident, as well as the audio that shows
you getting in my face and screaming at me, then grabbing me. So let's make
a deal: you quietly leave the restaurant, and I'll talk my boss into not
pressing charges for attacking a member of his staff. And the next time you
come here, please, specify which of the six meat sauces you'd like."

	I let go of her, and she can't get out of here fast enough, her
friend leaving in silence. I turn to find David staring at me.

	"Sorry if I went too far, there," I say. "I'm not a fan of people
touching me, and kind of react instantly when it happens."

	"You should've seen Emily on her first day," he laughs. "One guy
tried groping her, woke up as the EMT's were checking his pulse. I've never
seen a right hook like that before."

	"Six older brothers," Emily flexes her arms. "Ain't no man that
scares me. Except maybe you, but you're a boy, not a man, so the statement
still stands."

	"I'm not that much younger than you!" I protest in mock offense.

	"I'm nine years older than you," she laughs. "To me, you're a boy."

	I'd have put her at twenty, max. Definitely not the twenty-five
she's claiming.

	"How much trouble am I in?" I ask David.

	"She assaulted you," he says. "You used reasonable force to defend
yourself. If you hadn't, I would've stepped in."

	"I beat you to him," Emily says. "You only came out when you heard
the screaming. It would've been me she was dealing with."

	We get back to work, but I'm still a little nervous about what
happened. Half an hour later, I'm talking with one of my customers, who's
just finished eating and is taking his check. Four people, and they've been
nothing but pleasant the entire visit.

	"The only thing that would make this place better," he says. "Is if
it didn't have that fag of an owner."

	"Pardon me?" I ask, not sure if I heard him properly or not.

	"The food here is amazing," he says. "But it's ruined by that owner
being one of them fags."

	"Is David gay?" I look at Emily, who looks over at me.

	"That's a weird question," she says. "But yeah, he's gay. He's
married, actually. His husbands super-cute, you'll love him, when you meet
him. He'll be back from his trip in a few days."

	"How out are the gay workers?" I ask.

	"Everyone's out as out can be," she shrugs, and I look back to the
customer. "Why, Cal?"

	"So you only come here," I say. "Because you like the food, even
though you absolutely hate the owner? And you hate him because he's gay?"

	"Indeed!" He nods. "They should all burn in hell! If one of THEM
was making my food, I don't know what I'd do!"

	"Well, for the record," I say. "Two of the chefs are gay, and the
third's a lesbian, so I recommend you think of what you'll do quickly,
since you've apparently been eating it for a long time, and just finished
eating food made by them."

	He pales.

	"Will you be paying by cash or card?"

	"Cash," he answers, handing me a fifty and a twenty. "Keep the
change. If I were you, I'd recommend getting a job elsewhere, before they
corrupt a boy like you to one of those monstrosities."

	"I'll be right back with your receipt," I say, going to the
register, returning with his receipt and handing him his change. "And
here's your receipt and change."
     "Keep it," he tries giving the change to me. "Use it to get away
from...them. Follow my advice, get away from here and find a new job."

	"My apologies, sir," I say. "However, I cannot accept a tip from
you, as I'm still in the trial run, and so my tips go straight to the
chefs. I'm sure that, as a homophobe, you would prefer it if your money did
not go directly to three flaming homosexuals. I'm glad you enjoyed your
meal, and I hope to see you again. Have a good night sir."

	It's clear by the expression on his face that he's not sure how to
react. He pockets the money and leaves.

	"By the way, Emily," I've got the room staring at me again, I
realize. "Are you lesbian?"

	"I'm straight and married to a man," she laughs.

	"Oh, okay," I say. "I think he'll be back."

	I go back to work, and someone apparently complained to Emily that
they wanted to talk to David about withholding my tips. They just said they
wanted to talk to the owner, so no one knew what she wanted to say until
David was out here. He got confused by that.

	"I don't withhold his tips," David says. "He gets to keep any he's
given."

	"But he said-" she starts.

	"Pardon the interruption," I approach. "Ma'am, I felt giving that
explanation to him was better than telling him I didn't want to accept a
tip from someone spouting hate about my boss and our chefs. David doesn't
actually give my tips to them. I wasn't aware anyone else was listening in,
or I would have cleared up that thought as soon as he'd left. I do
apologize for the confusion, it wasn't intended."

	"What's his sass level today?" David looks at Emily.

	"Exceeding mine," she says. "I'm feeling kind of worried, he's
going to steal my spotlight."

	"Already have," I walk past her and to the doors. "Hello! Welcome
to the Wolf's Dragon! My name is Cal. How can we help you tonight?"

	"What happened to Emily?" The woman looks confused.

	"I stuffed her in the trunk of her car, then drove her off a
cliff."

	"And you say that with a smile on your face, too!" Emily laughs. "I
swear, we'll make a proper host of you yet! Welcome back, Gracie, how are
you?"

	"Oh, you're actually alive," the woman looks at Emily with a
serious, concerned expression on her face. Did she believe me? "How did you
survive the fall?"

	"He was joking," Emily smacks me in the back of the head. "I'll
take care of Gracie, Cal. Since it's now seven, no more new customers for
you, so you can be out by eight. If your customers aren't done by then, you
can stay to finish up with them."

	"Okay," I say.

	I finish with my last customer at eight to eight, and see David in
his office to collect the tips. Two hundred, eighteen dollars. Yeah, I
figured the six hundred wasn't going to happen again. Not regularly,
anyway. David gives me my schedule for this week and next week, and tells
me that until he hires more people, and except during holiday seasons, that
will probably be my schedule every week, and that I'll be notified
immediately if anything changes.

	It looks like I'll be working Wednesdays and Fridays from four to
eight, Saturdays from ten to nine, and Sundays from eleven to eight, for a
grand total of twenty-six scheduled hours. Not as much as I'd like to be
working, but it still gives me plenty of time with my little brothers.

	I hang up my apron and hat, pull on my jacket, then start to leave,
but am stopped by Garret, who just grunts behind me to get my attention. I
look at him, and he holds one of our takeaway bags out to me. I take it,
and realize that it's filled with to-go boxes.

	"For your brothers."

	"My brothers?"

	"I see you shopping on Mondays."

	He disappears back into the kitchen. I have tomorrow off, even
though Mondays are a little bit busier. Was that his doing? And I'm
surprised someone here knows about my brothers, everyone else here seems
way above my status. I walk home quickly, hoping my little brothers are
still awake. I usually start putting them to bed at eight-thirty, but with
me working, they'll probably be waiting for me.

	Sure enough, when I get home, all three of them are sitting on the
couch, already wearing just their underwear, yawning in sync with each
other. As soon as they see the bag in my hands and smell the food, all
three of them perk right up.

	"Did you three already brush your teeth?" I ask, and they all
nod. "Then we'll save this for dinner tomorrow. Showers?"

	"Check for three," Travis says, then promptly yawns.

	"You three get to bed," I say. "I'll tuck you in as soon as I get
this put up."

	I go to the kitchen and put the food in the fridge. There's a ton
in here, I realize as I open each one before putting in it. Two different
soups, four desserts, six entrees, three sides, and two appetizers. Smaller
portions of each one, but still plenty, as he packed each box with food.

	I check in on the twins first. They're already passed out. I check
their homework, just in case, and as expected, it's done and only has a few
errors. Well, Henry's does, Greyson's doesn't. Greyson, like me, never gets
anything wrong on the first try.

	Once they're tucked in, I check in on Travis, who's struggling to
stay awake. His homework's done and error-free, too. Like me and Greyson,
he never has to go a second round. Henry wouldn't if he actually applied
himself, but he's a little on the lazy side when it comes to applying his
education.

	I don't bother tucking Travis in because I know that as soon as I'm
naked and in my bed, he'll be in it, too. I take my time stripping, knowing
that it's killing him having to wait to join me in my bed while he's so
tired. Once I'm naked and in my bed, he's out of his and making his way
across the room to me, climbing into my bed and curling up against me,
promptly passing out. I ruffle his hair for a moment, then close my eyes
and fall asleep.

~~END OF CHAPTER TWO~~

	Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! As always, you can
contact me with your feedback, comments, suggestions, questions, etc. at
kingkurt1339@gmail.com at any time. I try to respond to all emails.

	Stay tuned for Chapter 3!