"Dog Days" 7
The dinner shift.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2005
"That was my last table," said Justin, setting down the heavy tray. "Thank God! I'm dead on my feet!"
"If you think that was busy, you should be here on a Friday or Saturday night," laughed Bryce. "It's a total zoo! But the tips are great."
Bryce was a few years older than Justin and had been working evenings at the Watermark for over two years. Clarence, the manager, had assigned Bryce to keep an eye on Justin during his first evening shift.
"The tips I made tonight are a lot better than what I get in the afternoon out on the Patio." Justin rubbed his hand against his pocket and felt the bulge of cash there.
"Why don't you get Clarence to put you on evenings?" Bryce suggested.
"I'd love to, but he only let me work tonight because another waiter called in sick," Justin said as he and Bryce began to clean up the station.
"That would be Chad," Bryce sniffed. "He's a fuck-up. He's always missing his shift. Clarence should fire him, but he keeps him on because... well...." Bryce rolled his eyes.
"Because why?" Justin asked innocently.
"Because Chad puts out, that's why!" Bryce stated. "Every time Clarence is fed up and ready to kick his butt out of here, Chad gets him into a corner and sucks him off!"
"You're kidding!" Justin exclaimed. He'd heard about that kind of thing, but he never imaginedit would happen at a nice place like the Watermark.
"No, I'm not kidding," said Bryce. "And if I were you, I'd watch my ass around Clarence. He's a total lecher."
"Yeah," Justin admitted. "He's bumped up against me a bunch of times, but I just ignore it. I don't want to slap his hands away and then get fired!"
"Well, watch yourself, Justin," said Bryce. "You're a good waiter. I'd hate to see Clarence drive you away. It's happened before. I've seen guys come -- and then I've seen them go!"
Justin frowned. Bryce was hot. He was muscular, with sun-bleached hair and a strong, handsome face. That's one of the reasons that he got such good tips -- he had a loyal clientele of gay male diners who always requested his tables. "Why doesn't Clarence hit on you? I'm not trying to butter you up or anything, Bryce, but you're the best-looking guy working here."
"I know," said Bryce as they walked down to the breakroom to change their clothes. "But Clarence doesn't bother to hit on me."
"Why not?" Justin asked in confusion.
"Because he's my lover," Bryce stated, opening his locker and taking out a clean shirt. "We've been together for six years."
"Oh," said Justin, turning bright red. But Bryce didn't seem the least bit fazed. He changed his clothes and went to meet Clarence out front, leaving Justin sitting on the bench.
This job is getting more interesting by the minute, Justin thought. And weirder, too.
He took out his cellphone and called Brian. But it went to voicemail. For some reason Brian had his phone turned off. That was odd. Even if Brian had gone out with Michael or over to see his son, Gus, he'd be home by now. Or he'd at least have his phone on.
Justin trudged out to the Jeep. Boy, my ass is dragging! he thought. I don't know how Debbie does all those double shifts at the Liberty Diner.
His arms and back ached from carrying the trays -- they seemed a lot heavier during the dinner shift in the main room than during lunch on the Patio. Everyone else on the shift was popping Extra Strength Tylenols, but Justin was afraid to take any for fear of a bad reaction to them. He was allergic to so many things that he avoided most drugs, even over-the-counter stuff.
But the money he'd made in tips was substantially more than what he made on the lunch shift. And if he worked dinners, then he'd have his days free to take some art classes in the fall. Ben Bruckner had given him a catalog from Carnegie Mellon and suggested a few good professors in the Art Department. He was already taking a drawing class that Lindsay taught at the Gay and Lesbian Center, but that was only once a week and most of the people were only taking it for fun. Justin wanted more than a fun class -- he wanted something more serious. More challenging.
But if he took classes during the day and worked in the evening -- that didn't leave much room for Brian. Or for their relationship.
As he got into the Jeep, he said a silent 'thank you' to Brian. He'd been right, as usual, about his need for his own transportation. The thought of waiting for a bus at this time of night made him shiver. Not that he really felt unsafe. It was just... a feeling of unease. There were so many police cars around. So many dark areas of the city. So many shadows at this time of night. Justin was far from a fearful kind of person, but he knew he needed to be alert. It never helped to go looking for trouble.
Justin walked into the loft and knew immediately that Brian wasn't there. That was odd. He was almost never out after midnight.
He pulled off his shoes and socks. His feet ached. He loved the loft, but often wished it had a bathtub. A long soak in a warm tub would be just the thing. He took off the rest of his clothes and went in to take a shower. Brian was probably out with Michael. In that case, he'd be home soon. Maybe even by the time Justin got out of the shower.
But Brian wasn't home when he got out. As Justin dried himself, he looked at the clock next to the bed. It was almost 1:00 a.m. He knew that Brian had work tomorrow, so it wasn't like him to be so late. And Justin had another lunch shift at the Watermark. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but he also wanted to wait up for Brian.
He wrapped his naked body in a thin blanket, sat on the sofa, and clicked on the television. He watched Conan O'Brien, trying to keep himself awake, but he kept dozing off. He clicked around some more. Movies. Infomercials. The Home Shopping Channel. Did anyone really buy this stuff? He watched some man practically swooning over a set of steak knives. How fucking gay was THAT? Justin thought. He kept surfing through the channels. Sports. MTV. VH-1. Lifetime. Some softcore hetero porn on the Curtain Network. So many channels and nothing he wanted to watch.
Where the fuck was Brian? It was now well after 2:00 a.m. He clicked the television off.
Justin heard a siren. Heard it get closer. Louder. Then sweep by on Fuller, right in front of the building. You heard a lot of sirens living in the city. The police. Fire trucks. Lots of noises outside.
But inside the loft was still. He could hear the building creaking. Water dripping in the shower. Justin pulled the blanket tighter around himself, not because he was cold -- it was a warm August night -- but for comfort.
How many years had Brian lived here all by himself? Justin wondered how he'd been able to stand it, year after year. The silence. The shadows. The loneliness.
He imagined Brian sitting on this same sofa. Drinking. Smoking a joint. Brooding. In the darkness. With the shadows closing in on him.
Justin covered his head with the blanket and shut his eyes.
By Gaedhal
Pittsburgh, August 2005
"That was my last table," said Justin, setting down the heavy tray. "Thank God! I'm dead on my feet!"
"If you think that was busy, you should be here on a Friday or Saturday night," laughed Bryce. "It's a total zoo! But the tips are great."
Bryce was a few years older than Justin and had been working evenings at the Watermark for over two years. Clarence, the manager, had assigned Bryce to keep an eye on Justin during his first evening shift.
"The tips I made tonight are a lot better than what I get in the afternoon out on the Patio." Justin rubbed his hand against his pocket and felt the bulge of cash there.
"Why don't you get Clarence to put you on evenings?" Bryce suggested.
"I'd love to, but he only let me work tonight because another waiter called in sick," Justin said as he and Bryce began to clean up the station.
"That would be Chad," Bryce sniffed. "He's a fuck-up. He's always missing his shift. Clarence should fire him, but he keeps him on because... well...." Bryce rolled his eyes.
"Because why?" Justin asked innocently.
"Because Chad puts out, that's why!" Bryce stated. "Every time Clarence is fed up and ready to kick his butt out of here, Chad gets him into a corner and sucks him off!"
"You're kidding!" Justin exclaimed. He'd heard about that kind of thing, but he never imaginedit would happen at a nice place like the Watermark.
"No, I'm not kidding," said Bryce. "And if I were you, I'd watch my ass around Clarence. He's a total lecher."
"Yeah," Justin admitted. "He's bumped up against me a bunch of times, but I just ignore it. I don't want to slap his hands away and then get fired!"
"Well, watch yourself, Justin," said Bryce. "You're a good waiter. I'd hate to see Clarence drive you away. It's happened before. I've seen guys come -- and then I've seen them go!"
Justin frowned. Bryce was hot. He was muscular, with sun-bleached hair and a strong, handsome face. That's one of the reasons that he got such good tips -- he had a loyal clientele of gay male diners who always requested his tables. "Why doesn't Clarence hit on you? I'm not trying to butter you up or anything, Bryce, but you're the best-looking guy working here."
"I know," said Bryce as they walked down to the breakroom to change their clothes. "But Clarence doesn't bother to hit on me."
"Why not?" Justin asked in confusion.
"Because he's my lover," Bryce stated, opening his locker and taking out a clean shirt. "We've been together for six years."
"Oh," said Justin, turning bright red. But Bryce didn't seem the least bit fazed. He changed his clothes and went to meet Clarence out front, leaving Justin sitting on the bench.
This job is getting more interesting by the minute, Justin thought. And weirder, too.
He took out his cellphone and called Brian. But it went to voicemail. For some reason Brian had his phone turned off. That was odd. Even if Brian had gone out with Michael or over to see his son, Gus, he'd be home by now. Or he'd at least have his phone on.
Justin trudged out to the Jeep. Boy, my ass is dragging! he thought. I don't know how Debbie does all those double shifts at the Liberty Diner.
His arms and back ached from carrying the trays -- they seemed a lot heavier during the dinner shift in the main room than during lunch on the Patio. Everyone else on the shift was popping Extra Strength Tylenols, but Justin was afraid to take any for fear of a bad reaction to them. He was allergic to so many things that he avoided most drugs, even over-the-counter stuff.
But the money he'd made in tips was substantially more than what he made on the lunch shift. And if he worked dinners, then he'd have his days free to take some art classes in the fall. Ben Bruckner had given him a catalog from Carnegie Mellon and suggested a few good professors in the Art Department. He was already taking a drawing class that Lindsay taught at the Gay and Lesbian Center, but that was only once a week and most of the people were only taking it for fun. Justin wanted more than a fun class -- he wanted something more serious. More challenging.
But if he took classes during the day and worked in the evening -- that didn't leave much room for Brian. Or for their relationship.
As he got into the Jeep, he said a silent 'thank you' to Brian. He'd been right, as usual, about his need for his own transportation. The thought of waiting for a bus at this time of night made him shiver. Not that he really felt unsafe. It was just... a feeling of unease. There were so many police cars around. So many dark areas of the city. So many shadows at this time of night. Justin was far from a fearful kind of person, but he knew he needed to be alert. It never helped to go looking for trouble.
Justin walked into the loft and knew immediately that Brian wasn't there. That was odd. He was almost never out after midnight.
He pulled off his shoes and socks. His feet ached. He loved the loft, but often wished it had a bathtub. A long soak in a warm tub would be just the thing. He took off the rest of his clothes and went in to take a shower. Brian was probably out with Michael. In that case, he'd be home soon. Maybe even by the time Justin got out of the shower.
But Brian wasn't home when he got out. As Justin dried himself, he looked at the clock next to the bed. It was almost 1:00 a.m. He knew that Brian had work tomorrow, so it wasn't like him to be so late. And Justin had another lunch shift at the Watermark. He was exhausted and wanted to sleep, but he also wanted to wait up for Brian.
He wrapped his naked body in a thin blanket, sat on the sofa, and clicked on the television. He watched Conan O'Brien, trying to keep himself awake, but he kept dozing off. He clicked around some more. Movies. Infomercials. The Home Shopping Channel. Did anyone really buy this stuff? He watched some man practically swooning over a set of steak knives. How fucking gay was THAT? Justin thought. He kept surfing through the channels. Sports. MTV. VH-1. Lifetime. Some softcore hetero porn on the Curtain Network. So many channels and nothing he wanted to watch.
Where the fuck was Brian? It was now well after 2:00 a.m. He clicked the television off.
Justin heard a siren. Heard it get closer. Louder. Then sweep by on Fuller, right in front of the building. You heard a lot of sirens living in the city. The police. Fire trucks. Lots of noises outside.
But inside the loft was still. He could hear the building creaking. Water dripping in the shower. Justin pulled the blanket tighter around himself, not because he was cold -- it was a warm August night -- but for comfort.
How many years had Brian lived here all by himself? Justin wondered how he'd been able to stand it, year after year. The silence. The shadows. The loneliness.
He imagined Brian sitting on this same sofa. Drinking. Smoking a joint. Brooding. In the darkness. With the shadows closing in on him.
Justin covered his head with the blanket and shut his eyes.