Chrys here. I stole another chapter from Mr. O and made the mistake of reading it. This is...its just...I can't bring it to words without swearing and I promised I wouldn't fucking do that. Oops. Lets just say my brother, Spence, is a sloot. That's the nicest I can do. I probably shouldn't even post this one. But I promised. Here it is. Ugh I have the shivers.
Love ya - Chrys
By the way if you want to read the other chapters just scroll down and you'll find them.
“Are you okay, Spence?”
As he looked up from the receipts on his desk he found Jessie leaning against the door frame. Her eyes looked dark. When she was in a melancholy mood shadows seemed to fall over them giving her that naturally smoky look women paid money to achieve. She had her arms crossed in front of her, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He could barely see the tattoo along her forearm, “candle within the chaos.” That’s what he thought she was to him. Then she ended something that could have been special. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted it, but she ended it without a word to him. That blew the candle out.
“I’m fine, why?”
“Just asking.” Her short sun-kissed hair fell down over her brow as she dropped her gaze.
Spencer knew her next move. She would flick her hair back, smile and the shadow of her eyes would fade away. Then she’d tell him she would see him tomorrow in her sexy husky voice and he would sit there for a while thinking he should call her back. It had gone that way for months.
“Spence,” she didn’t lift her head.
His stomach tightened. He wasn’t going to be happy.
“I’m seeing someone. We’ve only been on a couple of dates, but I think it’s going to go somewhere.”
Spencer wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt like tossing all of the night’s receipts off his desk and screaming. He didn’t. He sat still. He stared across at her not sure what he was feeling. Was this anger or jealousy? Perhaps a little relief.
Jessie flicked her head back. Her hair flipped up and to the side. It half slipped back over her forehead. Her eyes didn’t seem to have that shadow effect any more. “I wanted to tell you myself before you found out. You know how everyone talks. Anyway, the front is all locked up. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Spencer mumbled, “night.” The word barely passed his lips.
He sat there for a long time staring at the empty doorway. He wasn’t upset that Jessie was dating. He was upset because he always thought she would be there for him. A fall back. That wasn’t a way to think of someone, but that was what he thought. And now she wasn’t going to be.
Who was he becoming?
Everything was a mess. It was more than Jessie. Even on the line he wasn’t sure any more. He fell in love with cooking as a little kid working with the rough pub cooks Dad hired that put good food together in a sloppy way, played jokes on each other and were crude and rude even with a ten year old around. He went to culinary school with the intention of being a Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay. He graduated school and worked in high end places. He had dreams. Then his mom told him Dad was ill. Spencer went home and started doing his duty as a son. His father passed and he bought The Alcrest from his mother. He had dreams then that included the gastropub. Now things felt like they were imploding. He couldn’t control anything. He couldn’t even control himself.
Jessie had been part of those dreams. He had wanted her to be. He didn’t always tell or show her though. Something was always in the way. He was.
Chrys was part of the dream too. She was his sister. He loved her, however at the moment he didn’t want to be anywhere near her.
Somehow Spencer found himself in his truck driving the Middleton streets after sending a text asking a friend if he could come over. He didn’t want to be home laying in the bed he had shared with Jessie. All he would do there would be to think about what bills needed to be paid, what he couldn’t pay, how long they could last the way they were going. While trying not to ask himself if Jessie was with him?
He maneuvered his truck around a mini-van and stopped next to the curb. What was he doing?
He stepped out into the cool air. Something was wrong. This whole thing was wrong. He had that eerie feeling that he needed to turn around. He was too afraid of what would be there.
It was a nice neighborhood of homes and up-kept lawns. Average looking automobiles sat in driveways and on the street in front of average looking houses. A few yards had dimming solar powered lights. Garden gnomes stood vigil around a couple flower beds and gardens. The front yard of the house he was at had recently been mowed. That was all the upkeep there was. A sign in the yard and in a second floor window announced apartment for rent. The air was chilly. Sweater weather, as his mom would say. You could almost feel the rain coming.
He knocked on the front door.
Spencer felt a bead of sweat run down from his temple. He took a deep breath and let it out. The door opened. He held his breath.
“Hi,” Hanni said. She sipped red wine from a glass before holding it out for her guest.
Spencer took it and swallowed a healthy amount. Hanni had cleaned off her make-up and had changed into shorts and a thin tank-top cut-out enough on the sides to expose everything underneath. The moment the cool air hit her, her nipples pressed against the fabric. Even without all of the outer coatings she looked great. Long – thin legs, breasts that were a lot smaller without the gel push-ups (they were more approachable) and her hair falling free around her face and over her shoulders. She wasn’t the seductive waitress trying to shock and get a bigger tip. She was just a woman. He handed the wine back to her. The French tipped nails tinked against the glass.
Hanni wasn’t sure why he was there. He just said he want to talk. “Do you want to come in?” Her nose scrunched as she sniffed.
No, he didn’t.
His left hand cupped her face as the other grasped her waist and pulled her to him. Their bodies and mouths met at the same moment. He kissed her tasting the wine on her thin lips. Moist tongues began to battle. His thumb gently caressed her cheek.
She could feel the hardened calluses against her skin and the twitching of his growing erection against her stomach. She slipped her hand beneath his coat pulling him closer.
Spencer walked his hand up her body slipping it in the side cut-out of her tank. He didn’t want to think about the restaurant or Jessie. He sure as hell didn’t want to think about his sister. He just wanted to feel. His palm cupped Hanni’s bare breast. His thumb caressed her nipple hardening the erection.
She put the wine glass in his other hand. Her fingers grabbed the elastic of his pants and found the strings hanging loose. Chef pants were easy to get in and out of. Her white tipped nails scratched his lower belly. His abs tightened. The back of her fingers ran over his flat stomach. “You don’t have to be so gentle with me,” she said and slipped a hand inside the black pants grabbing what pulsed inside. She was surprised he went commando.
His breath caught.
“We should go inside.” He squeezed her firm breast tight enough she let out a gasp. Her hand stroked. He felt his pants slipping. “Someone’s watching.” Was that panic in his voice?
Hanni peaked around him. There were cars parked on both sides of the street. Nobody was around. “Who’s watching?”
“Someone.” He kissed her again and tugged on her lower lip with his teeth. “Someone’s watching. That’s all I know.” He was smiling. That was new. He nudged her back.
Hanni pushed his pants down. They dropped to his knees. The air chilled his ass cheeks.
“What are you doing? Hanni!”
She took hold of his shaft and guided him in. “You have to let go, Spencer.”
He threw his arm out. The fingertips barely hit the door making it swing shut.
~ * ~
A year ago Spencer was more relaxed. There were still the problems of staffing and bills and not having enough customers to be overly comfortable, however the financials were in the black. They made enough at the gastropub for him to have a little extra every month. Then there was the headless body cooked in the oven. The ovens were replaced by an old friend of his fathers who was also the alleged leader of the Irish Mafia in Middleton. That brought its own news stories. One thing lead to another which lead to another which lead to Spencer no longer being relaxed. First he started making sure he was downstairs when the baker arrived. It was more because she was afraid to start the ovens. Then after the summer he started staying late to count the day’s receipts. Usually that was Jessie’s job. He casually took it over until it was an every night thing. Up before dawn. Bed sometimes around midnight. Working out was something he didn’t bother with any more. He was still in good shape because he was eating very little. A few times a week he got away from the restaurant to do something else. A couple hours each week when he could try and relax, but it was all still there in his mind.
It was in the early morning when everything hit him. He would wake and stare at the ceiling as everything came to him and he realized how screwed he was.
Today was fish market day. He had to be down at the docks by 5:00 am to get good buys and hopefully beat the other city chefs. Even Spencer’s menus had gone in a different direction. He used to make a new one almost every day. Now he was just rotating recipes. He hated it.
“Where are you going?”
He didn’t even have his feet on the floor. “I’m going to the fish market.” He pushed the blankets off of him. They were rapidly replaced by fingers with French tipped nails. She traced the white scars that remained from being tortured. “Go back to sleep.”
“Give me a kiss first.”
Spencer turned back and lowered himself until his lips met Hanni’s. He was one of those people who always felt dirty after sex. After his nights with Hanni he often felt like everything was wrong. Their tongues wrestled. Her nails scratched his back. Finally she released him and he got up. It was more like he pushed away until she let go.
As far as he knew nobody at the restaurant knew about this relationship. His sister would be pissed and he wasn’t sure how Jessie would take it. Everything had just sort of happened. It wasn’t an everyday thing. It was more of an “as you need it” thing. Yeah, that made him feel so much better.
After he was dressed in last night’s chef pants and Deadpool T-shirt he took a look back at the bed. Hanni was there naked above the blankets face down. Her blond hair was tossed around her head. Her arms lay at her sides and her long legs were apart. The heart shaped buttock was extremely inviting. At night he wanted to feel her lips on him and be inside her. During the daylight hours the idea of screwing her – just the idea – made him feel filthy. It was still dark out however.
He quickly left the apartment.
On a good day the fish market had a festival attitude. No matter the weather the coffee truck was in the corner of the parking lot before you walked down onto the docks. There was usually people calling out what they had for sale, music, people cooking different fish items, chefs and restaurateurs fighting with other market owners for the best items and just regular folk looking to get a fish and see what it was all about. That was on a good day. This morning the rain had been pouring for hours. Only the diehards would be out today. The coffee truck was still open though.
He parked across the parking lot from where the coffee truck was. A walk in the rain would do him good. Wash away the cobwebs.
He parked across the parking lot from where the coffee truck was. A walk in the rain would do him good. Wash away the cobwebs.
Spencer wrapped his hands around a Styrofoam cup as he headed down to the docks. It didn’t really smell fishy as you would think. It smelled of the salty sea. Fishermen put their catch in big bins of ice or lined them up nicely in Styrofoam boxes. He took his time walking around and talking to the fishermen and dealers.
“Early bird gets the worm, Spence?”
He knew that voice. There goes the relaxation. “That’s the idea, Garrett.” Spencer had graduated the Culinary Institute of Canada with the chef of Terre Rouge. “How are you doing?”
“Pretty damn good. Restaurant is full every night. My wife is pregnant. It’s all pretty exciting. You?” It was like he knew everything that was crashing in Spencer’s life.
“I’m doing well.” Spencer sipped at his coffee. He felt Garrett’s eyes on him.
“You look ruffled around the edges. That either means a good night or a bad one.” His laugh was so fake.
When Spencer smiled his dimples showed. He looked around hoping to find someone else to talk to. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to Garrett, but every second day he heard or read something good about Terre Rouge and the “chef on the rise.” They may have graduated from the same place, but most definitely took different paths. “I hear you pilfered some of my staff.”
“Oh come on. They came to me, Spence. I’d never go out looking to steel your crew. Look, why don’t you come by Terre Rouge. Bring your sister. My treat.”
“Maybe I will.” Spencer didn’t want to offer the same thing. His friend had expensive tastes and wouldn’t feel a twinge of guilt fulfilling them on Spencer’s dime.
Two servers had left The Alcrest for the new fancy restaurant with its high prices and small portions. People kept telling Spencer to raise his prices, but that wasn’t the idea of The Alcrest. Great high end food at affordable prices in a friendly atmosphere. At least that was the original idea. He remembered arguing with his father after coming back from culinary school that the food needed to be elevated to more than deep fried and grilled.
Spencer bought an 80lb halibut from Hans, his main supplier, along with a box of haddock. The big halibut he could fillet and portion himself to the size he would like and use the carcass to make a nice broth. The small haddock would be great for beer battered fish and chips. He paid half the price and convinced Hans to come for dinner to pay for the rest.
He could probably go to the butchers down the street from the restaurant for some cheap cuts of meat, grind them up and make his own sausages for bangers and mash. An English themed menu could be fun. A tribute to his Dad’s pub days. This was why he liked coming down here. It gave his mind a chance to relax and his creativity to bloom.
As he helped Hans’ son lift the plastic tub of halibut into the back of his truck Spencer was thinking of how he could pan sear it in butter. Maybe put it with asparagus or a medley of spring vegetables and new potatoes.
He opened the front door. He could do a shepherd’s pie for the menu. Simple. Classic.
“What the fuck!” Spencer leapt from the truck.
His shoes shuffled on the wet pavement. His heart raced. One hand still held onto the open door. Rain splashed against it and the seat inside. With wide eyes he looked around. There was nobody near him. Nobody was watching. Hans’ son was walking away almost to the coffee truck.
Spencer looked inside the cab of his truck. It was a twin cab. The seat in the back was folded down so that he could store groceries on it. There was a string stretched from one back door to the other. He had never seen that before. He also never saw what was hanging from it.
The two arms were tied at the fingers. The nails had yellow polish on them. Between them was a foot. The string was tied to a toe. On the far side was a ball of blond hair. The strands hung down over what he assumed was a head. The hair was more dirty than blond. As he stared it turned slightly and he saw a milky eye staring back at him. The wind blew into the cab making the body parts swing and bounce against each other. Blood dripped from the hacked joints. Even with the rain falling he heard it land. Drip.