((A short mystery in 35 parts...Please be aware it is m/m))
“And then the shit hit the fan,” he said, stretching his long legs out, resting his feet on the seat across the booth from him.
Cary looked down at them and shook his head. “Manners Pres, manners. This is a high-class joint.”
Preston looked around and snorted. “Yeah I can tell by the peeling linoleum on the floor next to the counter and the greasy scum on the walls by the kitchen. Real high-class. So anyway Fulton wasn’t exactly pleased when I told him ”
“You actually quit? Finally. He was running you into the ground and for what, a meager salary and no overtime pay.”
“Wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d gotten some exposure.”
Cary laughed. “Oh you were ‘exposed’ alright, just not anywhere that would do you any good.” Sobering he asked, “Are you going to be in trouble for leaving?”
“He threatened but what can he do? My contract was up; I’m a free agent now.”
“Pres…” Cary’s mouth tightened. “That doesn’t mean a thing to him and you know it. He can put out the word and you won’t work anywhere in the biz, or in any field close to it.”
“So you’re saying I should have stayed?” A scowl darkened Preston’s handsome features.
“No, but knowing you, you didn’t bow out gracefully.”
“Actually I tried to but he wasn’t buying it. He said contract or no contract I belonged to him lock, stock and barrel. I finally told him where he could go and what he could do with the ‘barrel’ when he got there.” Leaning his head back against the wall he smiled to himself, remembering the look on Fulton’s face. “He was not a happy camper.”
“And if he sends Trace and his goons after you?”
“I can handle Trace if it comes down to it. He’s all talk and no action. Thinks cause he’s built like a stone wall people are going to be afraid of him.”
“I’ve seen him and I’m afraid,” Cary muttered under his breath.
Preston just smiled, picking up a fry, slathering it with ketchup. Cale shuddered when the red dripped onto the plate like blood as Preston lifted the fry to take a bite.