A Guilty Pleasures Edition (#6)
by
Pages: 285
Pages: 285
A steamy, queer retelling of The Postman Always Rings Twice
After a beef with the mob, Sal Minovich has to get out of New York City pronto. He gets as far as Beacon, New York, otherwise known as Nowheresville, and talks his way into a situation working as a handyman at a fading motor lodge. It’s not a bad place to hide out for a while and sock away some cash until he figures out his next step.
Then Sal meets the young manager, Will, and things get a whole lot more interesting. Pushed out by his homophobic father, Will hooked up with a small-time real estate investor, and now, six years later, he’s trapped in an unhappy relationship that might also be abusive. Sal thinks he and Will should run away together and leave their pasts behind. But Will won’t leave without a payout for all the time he’s put in. Do they have to get George out of the way to have their happily-ever-after?
Cover Artists:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 4
Romantic Content: 3
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 18-25
Tropes: Hurt / Comfort, Mind Games
Word Count: 85000
Setting: Upstate New York
Languages Available: English
Series Type: Same Universe / Various Characters
Twice
Romeo Preminger © 2024
All Rights Reserved
The kid cleared the couple’s table and deposited plates, cups, and utensils in a wash bin behind the counter. He wasn’t big on friendly conversation. Sal noticed he had a heck of a nice diver watch with a bright orange dial. A real Seiko. That didn’t match his cheap, cross necklace, which every working class Catholic boy got for his first communion. Sal took a sip of his coffee.
“Mmm. That’s good stuff,” he said. “S’pose I could get two eggs on a roll?”
“It’s a dollar forty-five.”
“I gotta pay ‘fore you make it?”
“Just letting you know. The coffee’s forty cents.”
Sal rubbed his jaw. “Guess I’ll have to take your word, seeing as I never got a menu.”
“You want a menu?”
“Nah, you look like the honest type. How long you worked at this joint?”
The kid ignored that question. “How do you want your eggs?”
READ MORE“Scrambled. You charge extra for that?”
The kid took his order pad out of his apron, and scribbled things down. Sal noted the nameplate on his shirt. Will.
Will passed the order through the kitchen window and drifted down the counter to page through some kind of real estate daily. Sal had much bigger issues to contend with, but none were as fun as ruffling the kid’s feathers. Sal told him, “Y’know, I ain’t some vagrant looking to bum a meal.”
“Oh yeah?” Will glanced at Sal’s Marlboro butted in the ashtray. “We’ve got a cigarette machine by the john. You don’t need to be mooching off my customers.”
“I ran into a little problem with your town’s precipitation. You gonna hold that against me?”
Will gave a little shrug. He went back to reading his paper. Sal pulled out what he could.
“You get a lot of customers ‘round here? ‘Sides your queer cop friend and the local retirees?”
Will’s eyes flared, and then he scowled dismissively. “Hogan’s not queer.”
“I thought he might be.” He delayed the kid again. “I was sayin’, you get a lot of customers? I’m genuinely interested.”
“We’re not the Plaza Hotel, but we do all right.” He crossed his arms in front of him. He had handsome arms. His junior biceps showed better with his shirt sleeves pulled taut like that. The way he said plaza with a hard “a” made Sal grin.
“The Plah-za Hotel,” Sal remarked. “You been to New York City?”
“Yeah. You?” Will passed a glance at Sal’s suede fringe jacket, which he’d draped over a neighboring stool to dry.
“I ain’t been to the Plaza, but yeah, I been livin’ in the city for a while.” Sal picked out one of his cigarettes in front of him that looked dry and lit it with his Zippo.
“Sorry to disappoint you, then. Guess you’re used to fancy dining in Times Square.”
Sal smiled to himself. The kid was trying to take a dig, but he was green. If he really knew Times Square, he’d know it wasn’t a place for fancy dining. It was a place for junkies, hustlers, and prostitutes.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’.”
“You told Hogan you’re from New Jersey. So, what is it? Jersey or New York?”
“Same difference. It’s just a hop, skip, and a jump on the train.” The kid was looking at him skeptically. “So, what does a fella do for fun up here?”
“You should’ve stayed in the city. There’s nothing to do in Beacon.” The kitchen bell dinged, and Will brought Sal’s egg sandwich over.
“I been to all kinds of places,” Sal said. “I grew up in a little town that don’t look so different from here.”
“You a drifter?”
Sal took a pull on his cigarette. “You this pleasant with all your customers or is it my lucky day?”
Will finished writing up the bill and placed it on the counter face up in front of Sal. A dollar and ninety-five cents. Underlined, twice. “When you’re ready.” He stepped away to clear the counter where the maid had been sitting.
Sal had an impulse to throw his plated egg sandwich against the wall. Who the fuck did this country pretty boy think he was? He controlled himself and took a chomp of his eggs on a roll. Sal washed it down with some coffee and measured his bites. He wasn’t going to wolf his meal in front of the kid like he was some low class nobody. His teeth were in the fight now. The kid wasn’t the kind of mark he was used to, but he was committed, and he was going to come out on top.
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