Page 15 of Smut Lovers

Mae and Phor hadn’t lived over the restaurant in several years, because they bought a townhouse three doors down from Mae’s sister a little over a mile away.

Tom still lived in the apartment, at their insistence, because he worked for the restaurant as a server, handling deliveries, and picking up supplies.

On the side, in the mornings he worked part-time as a phone customer service agent for an insurance company.

His parents still ran the restaurant, though.

Annnnd now Cal felt guilty. “I can’t let you pay me if you’re letting me do that.” If he had no living expenses, it meant his artwork, which he could do around his hours in the kitchen, would help him build a nest egg.

“Nonsense,” she said. “I refuse to let you work for free. You’re family, but you need to earn a living.”

“My Thai still sucks,” Cal joked.

She smiled. “So? So does Tom’s.”

“Thanks, Mae,” Tom muttered.

“Now get going,” she said, herding them toward the door.

“What?” Cal asked. “We just got here.”

“You have to open in three hours,” Phor croaked from his bed, and they all looked at him.

Cal’s heart broke at how frail the usually vibrant 62-year-old looked lying in the hospital bed. Practically swallowed by it.

Cal walked over and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “How you feeling, Phor?”

“Like I fell down a flight of stairs. You have to open the restaurant. Somchai can’t cook, and Tom will burn the place down. Sasi, give him my keys. Your alarm code is still the same.”

There goes my days off. Not helping wasn’t an option.

They were the only family he had.

The only family who mattered, that was.

Mae sighed and retrieved her purse, handing the familiar wad of keys to Cal. They weighed a prickly ton resting in his palm.

She looked him in the eyes. “We love you.” She glanced around him at Tom. “Both of you.”

“Love you both, too,” Cal said.

Twenty minutes later they were heading to Cal’s apartment so he could grab work clothes and his bundle of knives.

He never used them at his current job because he wouldn’t dare risk them getting stolen.

He hadn’t used them for anything but cooking his own food since graduating college.

They’d been a high school graduation gift for him from Mae and Phor.

They’d overheard him talking about wishing he could afford his own professional set.

“You set me up,” Cal wearily said.

“Yeah, well, I was just following orders.” He glanced at Cal. “I knew you could tell me ‘no’—and that you couldn’t say it to them.”

“Fucker.” He closed his eyes. “I was planning on working—art—and sleeping the next two days. There goes that.”

“Well, we’re still closed on Mondays and Tuesdays,” Tom said. “Somchai and I will help you move.”

Cal groaned. “I need to quit and tell the landlord I’m moving and all that bullshit.” Then something popped up in his brain. “Who cooked the food you brought me? I know damned well you can’t cook like that.”

He grinned. “Don’t tell Mae and Phor, but I stopped by the place a few blocks from your apartment.”

“Tom, where the hell’s Ava?” Cal yelled as he reached for the wall phone which, today, rang off the hook.

Not a bad problem to have, but having to interrupt his cooking to answer it was a pain. Eight days after returning to the restaurant, it felt like he’d never been away.

Ava, their new server, was late. And it was only her third shift with them.

“Empire Valley Thai.” Cal was already reaching for the pen and order pad that lived on the counter under the phone.

A tentative-sounding woman replied. “H-hi. Is this Phor?”

He shoved aside his mild irritation that the woman used the nickname for the man because Cal knew damned well Mae and Phor had “adopted” others throughout the years.

Not to the extent they’d taken him in and raised him, but in the friendly sense of it

“Sorry, he’s not here. He’s in the hospital.”

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry. Is he okay?”

Cal really didn’t want to get into a discussion about it because at this point it was emotionally draining explaining the story over and over to their patrons. “He fell, and he’ll have months of rehab in front of him, but he has an excellent prognosis.”

“That’s good. Oh, uh, I’d like to place an order, please. Phor knows my dietary needs, so I’m not exactly sure how to describe how he customizes dishes for me.”

“Tell me what it is and I’ll do my best.” No matter how busy they got, Phor and Mae never got snippy with customers, and he would not disappoint them. “Go ahead.”

“I’d like to order a vegetarian yellow curry, with potatoes and carrots added. Not super-spicy, but a little heat’s fine.”

Yes, they accommodated reasonable special requests such as this, and the veggies were already chopped and prepped, so it wasn’t a big deal.

“Sure. Vegetarian, or vegan? We use fish sauce in that dish, so it’s not vegan.”

“Vegetarian. I eat eggs, dairy, and some seafood, so fish sauce is fine. Chicken broth is okay, too. He usually adds extra spices for me, but I’m not sure what they are. He told me they help with my pain?”

Cal couldn’t call and ask Phor because he didn’t want to bother the man. “I’ll do my best to figure that out for you. Tofu for the protein, or just the veggies?”

“Tofu, please.”

There was…something about her voice. Like maybe she was on the verge of tears, but he knew it wasn’t his place to ask.

“Is this for pick-up or delivery?” Although with Ava MIA that meant their delivery options were limited with Tom needing to run the house.

“Pick up, but I’ll be in an Uber. I’m sorry, I’m having a really bad pain day. Can I call and have it brought out to me?”

A vision of Phor’s pained expression when Cal visited him just that morning flashed through his mind. “We’ll be happy to bring it out to you,” he said.

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?”

“Just that, thanks. My name’s Violet…”

He took down her name and phone number, glancing at their caller ID to make sure it matched, and it did.

One of the positive things repeated in their online reviews was how much people appreciated the comforting, family feel of the restaurant. Not dated, but familiar.

How repeat customers were frequently recognized by face if not name. How regular orders were remembered.

As word about Phor’s fall spread like wildfire, cards and flower arrangements poured in, as well as countless offers of assistance in any way they needed.

This is what family is supposed to feel like.

It was also the exact opposite of what he’d experienced growing up—until he became friends with Tom.

Cal plugged the order into their computer system before heading back to make it.

He had an index card box where Phor filed recipes for various options, but Cal didn’t see one specific to this, so he’d wing it.

He opted to up the ratio of turmeric and ginger from what he usually used and hoped it would be sufficient.

So far, their repeat, long-term customers had been very patient with Cal relearning the recipes and the custom tweaks they preferred.

Tom stuck his head through the door. “Did I hear you yell?”

“Yeah, about five minutes ago. Where’s Ava? I can’t cook and answer the phone at the same time.”

Tom made a familiar, disgusted noise. “She finally texted me that she can’t work after all and asked when she can pick up her check.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Cal resisted the urge to slam pots on the cooktop. “Did she even work long enough to earn anything?”

“I know, I know. I called another applicant and I’m waiting to hear back. Plus, Somchai’s picking up Kelly, and she’s coming in with him. It’s her night off so she can fill in.”

Kelly was Somchai’s girlfriend and a very sweet woman. She worked as a 911 dispatcher, a high-pressure job. She’d once joked she enjoyed working at the restaurant because it meant no one was dying and nothing was on fire.

Usually.

“Man, that sucks,” Cal said. “We shouldn’t have to impose on friends like that.”

Tom shrugged, smiling. “Well, she’s apparently about to become family, soooo…”

Cal finally grokked his meaning. “When’d he propose?”

“Two nights ago. They haven’t announced anything yet because they want to wait until Phor gets a bit better. As soon as they tell his parents, you know they’ll go into hyperdrive planning a wedding, and so will Phor and Mae.”

“True.”

When the bell on the front door rang, Tom ducked out of the kitchen while Cal got to work.

Thinking about what Phor might do, he also packed extra cooked veggies in a small side dish container in case she wanted them.

It was too easy to hear the genuine physical pain in her tone, and they took care of people with their food.

Continuing that tradition was the least Cal could do.

Somchai and Kelly had already arrived when Violet called back that she was outside. Kelly ducked into the kitchen, grabbed the order, and headed out with it. They were unusually busy even for their usually busy Wednesday nights.

Cal had just returned from a desperately needed bathroom break when Kelly got his attention. “Call on hold for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah. Some woman.”

Cal warily picked up the call. “Hello?”

“Hi. Are you the man I spoke to earlier?”

“I don’t know. When did you call?”

“I’m Violet. The vegetarian curry order?”

“Oh.” His stomach tightened. “Is everything okay?”

A soft, pained laugh. “No, everything’s not okay, but your food was perfect. I wanted to call and thank you. And thank you for the extra veggies. I really appreciate it.”

Tension flowed out of him. “You’re welcome.” He grabbed a pen and noted what he’d done so he wouldn’t forget. “Did you have anything you want me to do differently?”

“Seriously, it was absolutely delicious. Please don’t tell Phor, but it might have been even better than his.”

Cal snickered. “Don’t worry, I’ll let that be our secret.”

“What’s your name?” she asked. “I don’t remember you being there before. You don’t sound like Tom.”

“Cal. Cal Morris. I’m running the kitchen at least as long as Phor’s out of commission.”

“Are you Tom’s brother?”

“Kind of. I’m their bonus kid. Long story.”

“Oh! You’re the artist! Yes, they talk about you all the time. I love your prints in the dining room. Mae’s always showing them to everyone.”

Cal’s cheeks heated. “Yeah, well if everyone raved about my work as much as Mae and Phor and you, I’d be rich.

” He chuckled. “But I appreciate the kind words.” He looked up when he heard the front doorbell ring.

Through the serving window he watched five people enter the already full dining room.

“I’m sorry, but I have to go. We’re really busy. ”

“Sorry, of course. Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome.”

He didn’t know why, nearly an hour later, he still thought about her, her voice, her kind words.

But at least it meant, in this way, he was doing Phor and Mae proud.