Short Order

to find you.”
Whatever John answered was so quiet I couldn’t hear it.
“Whaddya mean you’re not coming back with me?” Then there was a loud thud. I wasn’t sure what I should do, if anything. Did John need help? I guess I could call 911 if things escalated.
As the noise continued, loud and louder on Leo’s part and too soft to understand on John’s, I grabbed my phone. I hated to get into John’s private business, but dammit, I didn’t like this Leo character at all.
Before I could dial, I heard John’s front door slam.
“You ungrateful little prick.” Leo was yelling loud enough that if John had neighbors, instead of a small city park next door, they’d be up and calling the cops, complaining about the noise.
Silence folded over the house once he left. What should I do? I put my phone down. I heard John moving around, so he was probably okay. No reason to go downstairs and check on him. I didn’t want him to think I was butting into his business.
Now I was wide awake, and hungry. Looking through my kitchen cabinets, all the snack food I could find was a bag of raw popcorn. I popped some of it in a saucepan on the old-fashioned gas stove and was sitting down to eat it and drink a beer when I heard a knock on my door. Afraid it might be the brute returning to recruit me to help him, I peeked through the security hole.
Standing outside, with snow falling around him, was John.
“Hey.” I might be awake, but I wasn’t eloquent at this time of night. The smell of popcorn billowed around me. “C’mon in.”
“Sorry if we woke you.” John didn’t move.
I waved a hand to dismiss his apology. “It’s cold out there. C’mon in and join me for some popcorn and beer.”
He stared at me a moment, then gave me a tiny smile. The smile was a green light to my dick. I had to remind myself that while John had been perfectly nice to me, he hadn’t given me any signs he was interested in anything but friendship. My self-lecture brought me back to earth, and I led him over to the kitchen table.
We sat across from each other, beers in front of us and the bowl of popcorn between. At first John seemed nervous and shy, almost like he was embarrassed.
“Sorry about the noise.” We’d been munching away in silence for a few minutes when he spoke up. He smelled like raw onions and some kind of grilled meat, and he looked exhausted.
“Hey, no problem.”
I took a handful of popcorn, chewed it, swallowed, and took a slug of beer. “You wanna talk about what just happened?” I was idly asking, not looking at him, so there was no pressure.
As I glanced up, he shrugged. “Not really.”
He hadn’t said no, so I asked, “Old boyfriend, huh?”
His grin faded to a grimace. “More like a bad mistake.”
I sighed and nodded. “Is there any other kind? Been there. Done that. No souvenirs.”
“Not as bad as this one.” He sounded fierce and tough, like we were talking about an old gang experience or something else I knew absolutely nothing about.
What could I say? No answer came to mind, so I drank my beer and ate popcorn.
“Somebody once told me,” he murmured in a sleepy-sounding voice, “that the secretary of agriculture said beer and popcorn were a complete nutritional diet.” His sleepy voice told me whatever had happened between him and Leo was starting to dissipate.
“Yeah?”
He grinned a sloppy, one-drink, cheap-date smile. “Yeah. I always thought it was funny.” He glanced over at me, suddenly looking my age and very vulnerable and totally fuckable. “So why am I chopping all those vegetables and creating all those sauces if I only need to pop some corn and pull some tabs for the Star customers?”
I still didn’t know what his position was at the restaurant. He wasn’t the celebrity chef. I’d seen photos of that guy. His smug, self-satisfied grin always rubbed me the wrong way. Beth said he’d swaggered into town and immediately divided it into the glamorous haves and the local peons.
“So you cook?” I asked it tentatively since he could be famous. I didn’t want to insult him.
“Yeah. I cook. I cook good.” He giggled, looking even younger now. “I’m the sous-chef. Soon to be a full-on chef. Try saying that fast three times.”
He giggled again and sounded happy, or at least happier than I’d heard him earlier.
He stood and wobbled, putting a scarred hand flat on the table to balance himself. One beer and the loss of an adrenaline high will do that to a guy. He blinked as if trying to wake up fully.
“This has been fun.” Wonder filled his voice, as if he was surprised the big guy hadn’t ruined his evening. “Thanks for the beer and popcorn. Till next time.”
He got across the room okay, so I didn’t offer to help him downstairs. When he opened the door, the porch already had about a half inch of snow on it.
“Be careful.” I tried not to sound like my mother as I watched him slowly navigate his way down the steps.
Next time? I hadn’t thought he wanted to see me. Now we had, and he was talking about next time. I shook my head after we waved to each other, and I closed the door. Next time? Thank God. Couldn’t wait.

Chapter 4
Next time turned out to be a couple of days later after I got back from work. I felt like a tractor had run over me, and I smelled like fir-tree resin. My apartment, on the other hand, smelled like I could eat it. Any doubts I had about John’s cooking ability dried up as I walked into my kitchen to survey my frozen dinner choices. Talk about haves and have-nots. Whatever he was making downstairs smelled delicious.
I was just settling on a Hungry-Man spicy fried chicken and mashed potatoes dinner, a gourmet delight