by Nicole Thorn
I wondered when his nose would start to grow, and if he would want to get some kind of surgery to fix it when it did.
“Oh, I have to head out,” Harry said, looking at his watch. “If you think you’ll still be out here late, I can bring you kids some dinner.”
“That’s okay,” Hamilton said. “We’re probably gonna call it an early night, since Jay needs rides home now.”
I didn’t say a word.
“All right,” Harry said. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Jay. Your honey is great.”
“Thank you so much. That’s very kind. Here, how about you take one on the house.” I grabbed a big jar from the table, handing it over to the man.
“Oh no, you don’t have to do that.”
“You brought us lunch, it’s only fair.”
He didn’t put up that much of a fight in taking it, which I took as a compliment. I got another couple of thank you’s before he hopped back in his car and started driving away. I waved, getting a wave back.
“Weird that you can have such a nice dad and you’re such an ass,” I said, shaking my head.
Hamilton stared into the cooler. “Yeah, and I guess that means I won’t be sharing this lunch with you. Would you like to watch me eat it?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t I?”
“Fine, what do I have to do to earn lunch?”
Hammy smiled. “Dance for me.”
I flipped him off instead, and that seemed to do the trick. The two of us sat side by side on the stairs of the RV, the cooler between us at our feet. Harry had been nice enough to make us sandwiches, along with some cookies. He’d even packed sodas.
“It’s cool that your dad did this,” I said. “Does he do that kind of thing a lot?”
“When he can,” Hammy answered. “He’s got work and stuff.”
“My parents are almost always busy. The only time I see them most days is in the morning, and typically, I get about a sentence in before one of the kids needs something. I haven’t had an actual conversation with them in I don’t know how many years. At least, not one that didn’t involve money.”
Hamilton took another bite of his sandwich. “Sorry, that sucks. My dad and I are pretty close, I guess.”
“Is that why he doesn’t know you’re gay?”
He paused, staring in silence for a while. I worried what he would say. I didn’t want to dislike Harry, but I worried that Hamilton would give me a reason to.
“No, that’s not why.”
“Do you not want to tell me the reason?”
He set his food on the napkin at his lap, then brushed his hands off. “I just haven’t gotten around to telling him yet. It’s not a big deal and I know he wouldn’t care. But, like, ya know.”
“I actually don’t know,” I said. “I never came out to my parents.”
“Oh, I thought you—”
“I am,” I said. “Yeah, I’ve known I was gay for about as long as any person could. I just never came out. It was never a thing in my house. It was always kind of known, and no one made a big deal about it. Maybe they would have if I’d ever had time to date someone.”
Hamilton went quiet again, staring off into the distance. “It was never a thing?”
I shook my head. “I guess they didn’t assume I would be straight, so it didn’t throw them off when I wasn’t. I understand that this isn’t the kind of situation that many people get, and I’m grateful. I have no idea what it feels like to be afraid of a day where you have to tell everyone you know something about yourself that shouldn’t even need an announcement. Like, why does anyone have to sit people down and tell them what they’re attracted or not attracted to? It makes no sense.”
Hamilton shrugged, breaking off a bit of his cookie. “I have no idea. It makes for a lot of interesting conversations, trying to dodge the subject.”
“Are you planning on telling your dad the truth? How did you even get around it when you were dating Sam?”
“We weren’t together all that long, and my dad was really sick for most of it. There were bigger things to deal with than talking about it. Now, I really don’t know when I’m going to tell him. When there’s stuff like money, and health to worry about, this seems like something small.”
I understood that part at least. With money always an issue, I didn’t want to complain about anything at home. Something worse always happened, or could happen. I couldn’t bring myself to complain when I always had food and a bed to sleep in.
A loud engine paused our conversation. I wouldn’t have normally looked over, but a normal car hadn’t made that sound. It looked almost like a modified van. The side of it said ‘A Little Taste of Heavaii’ and it had a painting of all kinds of sandwich things on the side. I saw a menu as well, with prices all lined up. It parked right in my fucking spot.
“Um,” I said. “What the hell might that be?”
I saw a man and a woman get out once it was parked. I thought that maybe their car had broken down, because I didn’t like the other options. But sure enough, they started setting up shop. I watched them pull out an awning that covered the side of the truck with shade for people.
The two had on matching uniforms, both with the logo of their little business. Their business that could have been far, far away from us if they wanted it. But no, they parked right in my spot, where I could see it clearly. I could even read the menu, my heart thudding as I saw how many choices they had and how cheap they had made their prices. Even I could have afforded it if I wanted to.
I could smell food cooking from where I sat, and it made my stomach turn with the unpleasantness. From my seat, I could see inside where they had the stoves and food all set up to sell. Here. In my spot.
It couldn’t have been possible. I went years without any real competition and in the span of less than two weeks, I’d had two places set up shop right there. I just didn’t get it. I didn’t get why I had the worst luck in the world, right when I needed a break. I couldn’t understand what I’d done to earn such a fate.
“Uh,” Hamilton said, staring as a woman set up a pop-up sign right in front of the truck. “I think we’re in trouble.”
Chapter Thirteen
Hamilton
I’d never seen a human being folded in on themselves before, but Jay had done a pretty good job of it, all while not moving. He looked tired all of a sudden, his head hung, and his hands had gone limp in his lap. “Why?” he muttered to himself. “Why do people keep taking my spot? It was mine for years. Why is it all of a sudden so popular?”
“I can’t tell you what made them choose to park there, but I can assure you that I did it on a whim.”
That didn’t seem to make Jay feel better, if the way he groaned indicated anything. He rubbed his eyes, hard enough that I worried for his vision, and then he turned to glare at me. “I blame you for this.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“For all we know, they decided to park here because they saw how popular a spot it was, which they wouldn’t have if you hadn’t shown up in the first place. You’re the reason that they’re here, so you need to fix this.”
“And how do you expect me to fix this? Ask them to a gun fight at high noon?”
Jay’s eyes went blank for a second, he shook his head violently, and then glared at me. “I don’t know! You just have to fix it!” I looked back at the food truck, which had set up their blackboard out front, so that anyone driving by would be able to see their prices. They looked fairly reasonable, I supposed. Cheaper than I had seen at a lot of food trucks, at any rate. Their actual truck would catch attention, since it was all blue and bright orange, with the words A Little Taste of Heavaii on the side. I didn’t care for the pun. I thought it was dumb as all hell, but everything else they had done looked attractive enough.
I wouldn’t deny that Jay had a reason to be worried. I rubbed the back of my neck, stretching it one way and then the other. “What, you want me to
go over there and ask them to please shove off?”
Jay continued to glare. “Well, the last time I did that, it didn’t work out so well for me, now did it?”
“Didn’t it?”
“How?” he shouted, loudly enough that the two people over by the food truck glanced at us.
“Because if I had actually shoved off, you’d be walking up and down that hill with a wagon full of honey twice a day in the blistering heat. Instead, you get to sit inside a nice, air-conditioned RV while I drive you around, and I know that you’re okay with that.”
I actually thought he might hit me, the way that he glared. “Could you, maybe, just go over there and see what the hell is going on?”
I sighed, heavily. “Fine, but if someone comes by for some jerky, you better sell it to them.”
He gave me a sarcastic thumb’s up, which I hadn’t known was possible until he did it.
Getting up, I let out an easy breath, and walked across the street. The man and woman setting up both turned to me with smiles plastered on their faces. The woman, a blond who spent too much time out in the sun, smiled at me with teeth so white that I almost got blinded. “Hello there!” she said.
The man, who had been inside the food truck, bent so that he could peer out the window at me. He didn’t look quite as tan as his wife—they had matching wedding bands—but his teeth were that same unnaturally white color. I wondered if they shared the whitening strips, or if they made the other one get their own.
“Hello,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “Um, nice truck.”
Someone kill me.
“Thank you!” the woman said, and I winced. “We just bought it a few weeks ago and have spent all that time making it look exactly the way we want it to. We got the idea while watching TV. Have you ever seen that show?”
“Um…”
“It’s so awesome. Those trucks are gorgeous, and I just know that we’ll attract attention with this one. We’ll be making money in no time.”
I’d never heard anyone say that they made a lot of money from owning a food truck, but I already didn’t like this woman, so I kept that to myself.
“So, uh, what do you sell?” I asked.
I got blinded by that smile again. “Oh, we make authentic Hawaiian cuisine, or as authentic as we can get out in the desert. My husband, Stanley, and I went there on our honeymoon, and it was so beautiful.” She blinked, as if she were about to cry. “Do you remember that, honey?”
The man inside the truck stuck his head out for a fake smile as well. “Sure do,” he said. “The best days of my life. The honeymoon is right before everything started to go downhill.”
My eyes widened while his wife laughed as if he made the best joke that she had heard in a long time.
“How is it authentic?” I asked, gesturing to the food truck.
“Oh, Stanley spent weeks looking up recipes and making sure that he had everything right,” the woman said, touching my arm. I didn’t like that, but I resisted the urge to pull out of her grasp. It might look strange. “We made sure that we looked it up from real Hawaiian cookbooks and whatnot, so it’s as authentic as it can get. Oh, and our family loves it.”
“I see.”
“Helen, don’t brag,” Stanley said, sticking his head out. “Let the food do it for you!” He held out a small paper bowl that had a pulled pork sandwich with a pineapple on top. I didn’t know how to feel about that, other than some vague thought that this didn’t look really authentic…
“Of course!” Helen shouted, taking the paper bowl from him and handing it to me. “Here you go. Let us know what you think about it.” She winked at me and turned to finish setting everything up.
Feeling in a daze, I walked across the street and sat down on the RV steps again. My legs felt weak, as if I had just run a marathon instead of talked with strangers. Jay came over to me immediately. “So, what’s up?”
“They’re making ‘authentic’ Hawaiian food,” I said, showing him the sandwich. “They looked bleached in all the right places and burned in all the wrong ones, but they’re so friendly that I don’t think anyone is going to mind. They also got the idea to open a food truck from some TV show they both like.” I shrugged.
Jay pointed to the sandwich in my lap. “What’s that?”
“This is one of their products. They thrust it at me to show how good their food is. I can’t decide if they’re trying to scare us off or not, but it feels like they are…”
Jay sat down next to me and picked up the sandwich. He took a bite and made a face.
“Not good?”
“I hate pineapple,” he said. “Otherwise, it’s fine. Not amazing, but good enough that most people won’t be furious that they bought it.”
I took a bite myself. The pineapple overwhelmed the pulled pork, which tasted like it had been cooking for a little too long. This wouldn’t have been an issue if the pork had barbecue sauce on it, which it did not. I set the sandwich back down and finished the bite that I already had in my mouth. I cleared my throat, trying not to make a face at it. “Well, I think people will like it.”
“Why?”
“Because most people like pineapple.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Jay said.
“It is true. Pineapple is delicious.”
“It’s gross,” he argued. I couldn’t tell if he argued because he actually believed it or because he thought that saying otherwise would be allowing the idiots across the street to win. I hoped for the former.
I rubbed my eyes. “We’ll figure something out. Maybe this will be a bad spot for them, and they’ll decide to leave on their own.”
“Your optimism is staggering,” Jay said.
Before I could respond, Helen came bounding across the street, that smile plastered right on her face. She stopped in front of me and bent down like I was a little child that she needed to speak to. “Well, how was it?” she asked.
“It was good,” I said, because despite what Jay believed, I could be friendly.
“I’m so glad you liked it. The sandwich was seven dollars.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
“The sandwich?” Helen said, nodding to it. “That’s seven dollars.” She held her hand out.
Jay and I both stared at her.
“You handed this to me,” I said, lifting the paper cup. “I didn’t ask for it. You thrust it into my hands.”
Helen frowned at me. “Now, now, let’s not make a big deal of this. It’s only seven dollars, and you do owe me. We gave you that food.”
Feeling mildly stunned, I pulled out my wallet and passed her seven dollars. She smiled, patted me on the fucking head, and then went back across the street as if this hadn’t happened. I heard her husband whoop about something after she had reached him. I almost saw red.
“I… don’t know what to make of that,” Jay said.
“I do,” I responded right before turning the sandwich upside down and dumping it onto the ground. I stomped on the bottom of the paper cup, just to make sure that the entire thing had been ruined.
“This is no reason to litter,” Jay said.
***
We called it an early day, mostly because we sold almost nothing. A Little Taste of Heavaii had knocked out their first day. Jay and I had sat on the stairs of our RV, watching person after person get something to eat from the food truck. Between us, we made maybe fifteen sales.
Jay didn’t feel like going home, so I brought him back to my house first. Dad had gotten home early too.
“You two look down,” he said, while petting Purricane and flipping through channels on the TV.
“You could say that,” I responded, going into the kitchen. Jay followed behind me.
I opened the fridge and pulled out a beer. “You want one?”
“Your dad doesn’t care?”
“Dad, I’m drinking!” I shouted.
“All right! Just stay in the house!”
I raised an eyebrow at Jay
, who took the beer from my hand. I grabbed another one and slouched into the den. We didn’t have much reason for a dining room, so my father had turned it into a second living room and called it a den. I flopped onto the couch and popped the top off my beer.
Jay, who had been looking around curiously, took a seat on the recliner. He opened his beer as well. “So, we’re fucked? That’s it?”
I took a deep swig. My dad imported his from England, claiming that it tasted better. I didn’t know about that, but I liked it well enough. “It certainly looks like it. So, you’ll have to do your honey business on the side, and I’ll have to take a job at the butcher shop my dad owns. Fun. Maybe in a few more years, I won’t be so upset about college.”
Jay, his shoulders slumped, took a huge swallow of his beer. I half expected him to cough it all up again, but he didn’t. The two of us sat in there for almost an hour, drinking and lamenting our fates to each other.
“Maybe it’s not so bad,” Jay slurred, reaching for the cooler that I’d dragged in and dumped on the table. “I should’ve gotten a real job years ago. Ya know, been a good son.”
I glanced at him. “You’re drunk and don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Jay waved his hands. “No, really. Think about it. If I had gotten a real job, I could have given my parents real money, my truck could have been fixed up by now, and I wouldn’t be sitting here, drinking with you and wanting jerky.”
I waved at the cooler, that he already fought with. “Go for it. Might as well not waste what we’ve got left.”
A few minutes and several pieces of jerky later, Jay made this worrying whining sound. “It’s so good,” he said, holding the jerky up. “I hate it for being so good!”
I smirked. “I thought you hated it already.”
“I lied.”
Shaking my head, I sat up and put the beer down. “You hurt my feelings. Here I am, buying loads of your honey to spread around the state, and you can’t even give me a straight answer about the way my jerky makes you feel. I’m devastated, honestly, Jay.”
He swallowed another bite of jerky, staring at the ceiling. “Is that the first time you’ve said my name?”
