Z.A. Maxfield - Stir 1 - Stirring Up Trouble by Z.A. Maxfield

Author:Z.A. Maxfield [Maxfield, Z.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

ChApter Seven

“Vanity is the food of fools” Anonymous Toby gripped the phone and spoke quietly. He’d slipped out back, after the lunch crowd was over, to where Evan and the busboys usually smoked, and toed a pile of butts around on the ground. They needed a bin full of sand back there. “So, if someone called you junk food, what would that mean, do you think?”

Deb didn’t answer right away. “Did Evan call you junk food?” “Maybe.”

“How’d he say it, like, you’re only junk food, and you’re making me sick? Or you’re junk food and I can’t get enough?” “That’s just it! I don’t know.” Toby frowned and took a long sip of his coffee. “He just said something about me being a feckless party boy and that I was junk food. But he didn’t follow that up with anything bad.”

Far from it . Evan had followed those words up with something so real, so completely honest and forthright that Toby was currently unwilling to make his phone calls sitting down. It hadn’t quite been punishment sex. There was no way anyone could have sex with Evan and not feel cherished. He wasn’t a punishing man. But he’d been subject to more than a little emotional turmoil and Toby’s young and willing junk food body had obviously provided him with some sort of a release.

And what a release it was. Toby’s body still rang like a door chime. “Then what?” she asked. “What was the context?” “I told him I liked him. He said he liked me too. Then he said

I was junk food.” “Aw, shit.” He could hear Deb put her hand over the phone and say something to someone else before she spoke to him again. “That can’t be good.”

“That’s what I thought.” Toby frowned. “I can’t get over the feeling that I’d better be working on that.”

“Working on what,” Evan asked from behind him. Damn. The man walked as silent as falling snow.

“Gotta go,” Toby told Deb. He heard her say something like “good luck” when he hung up. “How’d the bartender interviews go?”

Evan drew in a deep drag of his cigarette. He looked thinner than he’d been when Toby first met him and more fatigued. He leaned against the wall and shut his eyes.

“There are a couple of good candidates. One who was particularly charming. Mixed drinks well, seemed to know what he was doing. One problem, though. He told me his specialty drink was the Peppermint Candida, ‘a tasty and potent concoction of Wild Turkey and peppermint schnapps.’ Candida’s yeast isn’t it? Should anyone really call a drink that?”

Toby shook his head. “Probably not. Think maybe we should keep looking? Wait for the guy that’s ready to bring the world a Burning Chlamydia?”

Evan’s thin smile transformed his face from tired to resigned. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing in there, Toby. I drink whiskey in my coffee. I can identify around thirty-two beers by taste alone, but you put an umbrella in a drink or a slice of fruit on it, and…”

“ Shh.

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