Crazy Sex Adventures(Erotica)

Austin got into work late. Driving from home instead of the apartment took longer than he’d anticipated. He missed only about ten minutes of prep, but it was enough. Everything was off rhythm, like the drums in a band playing a quarter-beat too fast. Austin simply couldn’t keep up. He tried to ignore the glares of his co-workers as he stumbled through mistake after mistake.

First, he prepped the wrong order. Then he got the right one, but it was missing dressing. The one after that was over-dressed. And round and round he went.

It didn’t help that the whole kitchen was having a bad day. No one could cook fish right, apparently, and Chef Paul was in a particularly foul mood. Twice, food got sent back from the dining room. At the end of the evening, they all seemed like a battle-worn platoon rather than a kitchen brigade.

Once everything was cleaned, Austin went out back for his smoke.

“God tonight sucked,” he said as he puffed. Everyone except Chef Paul was back there: dishwashers, line cooks, even a couple of the servers. No one looked at Austin when he spoke.

“You would know,” Ramon, one of the line cooks, said.

“You’re right, I had a bad night,” Austin said.

“A bad week, more like,” Ramon said, “A bad month.” Everyone else snickered.

“I’m trying my best,” Austin said.

“Guys, cool down,” Jane said. Boy, if his ex was defending him, things must really be bad. “It was one of those days.”

“It’s been ‘one of those days’ every day for your boy here,” Ramon said.

“He’s not ‘my boy,'” Jane said.

“It’s salad for fuck’s sake. You’re not even cooking that shit, man,” Ramon said. The other cooks grumbled in agreement. James felt the anger rise in his chest. He backed it off.

“That’s fair,” James said, though it burned him to do it, “I’m sorry, OK? I’ll work to get better.”

Ramon glared at him. He dropped his cigarette and ground it under his foot, looking Austin down. He started to walk back into the kitchen, past where Austin was standing. And when he got so close that Austin could smell his breath, he leaned right in.

“Go fuck your mother,” Ramon said.

“What?” Austin asked, shocked.

Ramon said it again, louder. “You heard me, bro. Go fuck your mother.”

Austin didn’t think rationally about what Ramon had said. He didn’t take the time to consider that some random line cook would be totally oblivious to what was going on in Austin’s personal life. He didn’t reason through the very many ways that this man might simply say a string of nasty, angry words. Austin just got scared. Then he got angry.

Then Austin snapped.

They had to pull him off Ramon, both of them bruised and bloody. Austin didn’t know where the last ten minutes had gone. Couldn’t remember anything between those whispered words and the moment where his arms were pinned behind his back. His legs kicking in the air. No one needed to tell him what had happened, though. He could put it all together his own damned self. He limped back to his apartment; arms wrapped around his chest.

The next morning, he got the call. He knew what it was, but he held hope tight as he walked back to the restaurant. Stepped into Chef Paul’s office. The older man eyed Austin with sympathy. For a moment, Austin believed he might get one last chance.

“Ramon’s not going to press charges,” Chef Paul said, “But I can’t keep you on. You know that. I’m sorry.”

Austin’s heart fell, but he’d already expected it. Even he had to admit, there was simply too much stupid for Chef Paul to ignore. In the over-bright morning light, Austin knew that he’d overreacted. Hell, he kind of knew it in the moment. But Ramon’s words had pushed Austin into such a dark place, he couldn’t see right from wrong. There was nothing to do about it now.

Austin got his stuff from the restaurant and walked back to his apartment. On his way there, he realized that if he wasn’t earning money, he couldn’t stay at his place, either. It really was all over.Belongs © to NôvelDrama.Org.

He walked up the steps and unlocked the door. It was still early morning and his roommates were getting ready for work. Austin walked straight back to his bedroom, gathered his stuff, and threw it into suitcases. Kind of like he had that day back at the campsite, not even caring where things went.

Up and down the steps, Austin loaded up his car as much as he could. Then he wrote his roommates a check for his share of the next month’s rent and said goodbye. They shook hands. Austin drove off.

The emotions washed over him on the drive. Embarrassment. Guilt. Fear. He ran the argument with Ramon through his mind. He wondered if he could have argued Chef Paul into one last chance. But no. Austin knew it was over.

There was a point, maybe a month ago, where he’d have blamed it all on other things. On his asshole coworkers. On his family for constantly interrupting him at work. On those damned pills that had taken over his life. But Austin couldn’t make excuses anymore.

He’d made these choices. And as much as he hated where they’d taken him, he knew that they were his. Yet there was something else in it, as well.

Because, as he drove in damning silence, Austin realized he felt content. Happy. This wasn’t a setback, but a chance to reorient his life. An opportunity to really, truly make things better. Why worry about what had happened when his future could be so bright? This wasn’t a good result. But it wasn’t a bad one either. The world was still full of wonderful possibilities, Austin could feel it in his heart.

After all, he was coming home.