The Traveler and The Tourist 01 - Krung Thep, City of Angels by Zee Kensington

Author:Zee Kensington [Kensington, Zee]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

“I CAN’T believe I’m doing this.”

“Why not? This is awesome!”

“It’s an abomination, is what it is,” Chris grumbled. He was sitting cross-legged on his hotel bed, decked only in the threadbare towel he’d wrapped around his waist to answer the door. Marco was reclining against the headboard, still completely nude, his legs tangled in the white sheets. Between them, their late-night dinner was spread out on the bed: a greasy, post-coital feast of hamburgers and fries. The food was scattered on brown paper bags and white wrappers upon the bedding, where only an hour before the two men had lain entwined and moaning in their second round of energetic coupling.

“I can’t believe McDonald’s delivers 24 hours!” Marco said happily through a bite of Big Mac. “Why don’t they have this in the US?”

“Because if they did, no one would ever leave their house,” Chris griped and bit into his pork burger. If he was going to be forced to eat fast food, at least he was going to get something regionally specific. He’d offered to run downstairs to fetch them some stir-fry from the food cart across the street, but Marco had pouted so profusely that Chris had finally given in.

“This is corporate evil at work here,” Chris continued. “They’re trying to compete with the street vendors. Why go three blocks to get a greasy cheeseburger when you can just walk outside your door to get a plate of freshly made noodles? So they’ll bring it to your door.”

Marco rolled his eyes at Chris. “Sometimes you just want a greasy cheeseburger. It’s comforting.”

Chris snorted and finished the last of his sandwich, crumpling the paper. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d craved a cheeseburger. For that matter, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d really had a hankering for anything “comforting” at all. It was no use, in his line of work. If he found himself longing for a homestyle pork chop in the heart of Israel or a bit of cheddar in rural Japan, he was setting himself up for a big disappointment. So he’d trained himself to not crave anything at all and simply be open to the new flavors awaiting his palate.

He picked up another French fry and swirled it in the cup of sweet chili sauce that McDonalds had so thoughtfully included with their delivery order. Even with the hot-sugary Thai flavor coating the salty grease, the unmistakably American flavor triggered old memories.

“I haven’t had McDonald’s since the last time I was home for the holidays,” he admitted, picking up another fry. Okay. Perhaps he had missed these little grease bombs after all.

“When was that?” Marco asked.

“About four years ago.”

Marco’s eyes went wide. “You’re really always working?”

“Pretty much.” Chris shrugged again. “I have an apartment in Manhattan, but I sublet it to my brother and his wife. I don’t stay there more than a few weeks, usually.”

“Don’t you miss it?” Marco asked.

“Miss what?”

“Home.”

“No,” Chris answered reflexively. He’d told himself the lie so often it was easy to believe.

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