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Summary:
Warnings:
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by
Mel Cornwall stepped out of the testing room and almost into Kirk Anderson's arms. "Hi, Kirk."
Kirk was a big man for someone not born on Riverworld, just a little shorter than Mel, but much heavier and very buffed. The officer was even more muscular than his older brother Jake. "How did you do, kid?"
"The written exam was pretty easy. The morals section really made you think." Mel hesitated. He didn't want to brag about the ease of the physical portion. "The rest was what I expected," he offered.
Kirk smiled. "I guess you wiped the floor with them during the physical tests?"
Mel spread his hands. "We're on different scales, Kirk. Being stronger and faster didn't keep me from having to run from my homeworld, it didn't save my family, and it doesn't make me a superior human being. But it might help the people here." Sometimes the anger over his losses would well up at the most inappropriate times. Kirk didn't deserve Mel's venom. The older man had been nothing but kind to Cornwall.
Kirk patted the younger man, his face sympathetic. "Come on, kid. Let me put those superior muscles to some use. Mike said that he would pay you two pairs of pants, and two shirts to bring all their orders to the restaurant."
Mel puzzled. He'd seen endless streams of transports through the window during his three hours of testing. Cornwall was guessing that those clothes would run about three days wages. Why would Mike pay him so much for a day's labor? "Two pairs of pants *and* two shirts?" Mel inquired.
"Yeah. Must be a big order." Kirk led them to the scooter rack and checked out two of the vehicles. Riding side by side, the two of them made their way to the market.
It was nearly noon and the place was hopping. Mel was almost disoriented by all the action going on. People struggled, in various dialects and languages, to part him from his hard earned money. Kirk kept them moving until they got to a sort of reception area complete with a large desk.
Sitting at the desk was a very harried looking woman wearing a spacer's jumpsuit unzipped to the waist and pushed off the arms. Covering her torso was a lightweight natural fabric shirt emblazoned with the phrase BITCH IN CHARGE in several languages. At least the seven Mel could read all agreed.
Her short brown hair was slicked to her skull by sweat, otherwise it must have been kept in a spiky do. One of her earrings, which had dropped off, was caught in the weave of the lightweight shirt. Her bronzed skin was flushed, and she had pronounced dark bags underneath her honey-brown eyes.
"Koko, this is Mel Cornwall. We're here to pick up the Apple Blossom order," Kirk announced. He grabbed the earring off her shoulder and placed it in her hand.
"Are you now?" she asked, giving the big cop a smile. "I thought you'd finally decided to take me away from all this." She leaned toward Kirk and batted her lashes. Just then three people rushed the desk squabbling hysterically in Martian and Common. "I don't understand you," Koko protested.
"He said that the vendors cheated him. He ordered three kilos of flour and the box was half-empty and only weighed one and three- quarters kilos," Mel explained.
"There may have been some settling," the vendor explained with a wave of his hands. He gazed suspiciously at Mel. Cornwall guessed he thought no one would speak Martian this far out. "Things settle you know. Especially in this heat."
"Settling doesn't affect the weight." Koko glared. "You will give this man an additional *four* kilos of flour, or you can pack up your goodies and move on."
"Of course, of course," the vendor agreed. He slapped his partner on the back of the head. "I told you to watch for settling."
"Could you tell the gentleman that everything is okay?" Koko asked Mel.
Cornwall turned to the fuming Martian. Even on Riverworld, where everyone not born there was an inferior, Martians were held in healthy respect. "They know you were cheated, and the seller now has to give you four kilos of flour in addition to the flour you have already received. The authorities consider this matter settled, and even though he cheated you, please do not kill him." Mel knew the old phrase 'the fastest path to death is to cheat a Martian' from his business ethics class.
The Martian nodded. "It was my next move."
"We are in a different place," Mel reminded him. "The rules are different, and we have to adhere to them." Cornwall shook the man's hand Martian-style and the tension oozed away. Sort of like the flour vendor.
"I didn't know you spoke Martian," Kirk noted as he placed the Apply Blossom's credit strip before Koko.
The market's manager inserted it into her console and produced a printout of the restaurant's order with everything marked as paid.
"Martians are considered excellent business and marital contract partners. The traditionalists consider them tough enough and the moderns consider them rich enough to mix with the Riverworld population," Mel explained. "We learn to speak the language as part of our course load in business school."
"How many languages do you speak?" Kirk asked.
"Four that I read and write well--Common, Riverworld, Martian, and Coventry, and another three I can sort of speak, but I can read and write--Europa, Castle, and Beltiz".
"Well... A man of accomplishment," Kirk said appreciatively.
Mel blushed. "Kirk, I'm not that special. I'm the product of a middle class family depending on an excellent marriage contract based on my abilities and my face."
"No marrying for love on Riverworld?" Kirk asked, slightly shocked.
"Second marriages, maybe. But not the first. My primary obligation was to ally my family with a more powerful line or a very rich outsider." Mel didn't have any other explanations for the man. On his world, marrying for love was such a romantic, and therefore stupid, notion. When you were well placed and had no more need of alliances, then you married for love. Few people reached that level of confidence.
Koko waved the Apple Blossom order and whistled. "I hope you two are well rested. It's a biggie." She returned the credit strip to Kirk.
Kirk grabbed the particulars and they were off. First stop, the freight office. They were 1000 warm packs waiting for them. "Mike must have gotten the lunch contract with the train people," Kirk noted. "They're offering lunch for their workers, and all the positions are permanent."
"That's great for the restaurant," Mel noted as he loaded the boxes onto a flatbed to be pulled behind his scooter.
Kirk helped, but for every one box he carried, Mel carried three. "That means they'll be able to hire at least two more people on at the restaurant," he noted happily. "Maybe I won't have to spend my day off canning strawberries."
"You can?" Mel asked as he strapped the last of the boxes in place.
"*Everybody* cans now, kid. There are no supermarkets to stock out of season fruits and vegetables. If we want corn in the winter, then we need to store it in the summer. After the orchard's final crop of apples are picked, we'll all be canning, drying apple chips, and making cider, juice, and vinegar. Even with the whole family and all our friends chipping in, we still won't be able to make enough to export." Kirk moved over to the chicken vendor. "Exporting is where the money is."
Mel understood that very well. Off planet markets would pay 6 to 50 times what a local buyer would be able to pay. But the Apple Blossom would be obligated to fulfill local contracts as well as keeping its walk-in customers fed. Then there was the problem of getting enough of the produce harvested. They would never be able to afford the cost of labor unless they had presold their entire crop. He couldn't imagine how much would just fall to the ground to rot or be eaten by the local fauna.
Mel looked up at a strange noise and gasped. "Kirk, those chickens are alive."
"What did you expect, kid? In this heat, the carcasses would start to go bad pretty quick." Kirk handed the lady the list, and she checked off her portion of the order.
"Forty-two hens." She looked at Mel and catalogued him as a rube. "The bigger, multi- colored ones are the roosters. Leave them alone."
Mel could not believe a bird who couldn't fly would be this quick. By the time he'd captured 42 of the screeching, fighting birds, he was soaked to the skin. It only got worse.
The pork was big, breathing, stubborn, and had to be carried to the flatbed and secured. Three mutant watermelons had the flatbed so low, Kirk had to show him how to increase the pressure in the load springs.
Those pants and shirts were no longer looking like an overpayment by the time he'd loaded 19 bolts of fabric, two boxes of thread, flour, sugar, raisins, ground corn meal, and three types of cereal.
Mel had to putter along slowly in the blazing sun to the restaurant. The place was so busy, he ended up unloading the whole shipment himself because Kirk had to report for duty. Then after half a pitcher of fruit juice and a sausage roll to fortify him, Mel had to turn around and return the flatbed to the market. The scooter was his until the next day. By the time he made it back to the restaurant, the crowd had thinned out.
"Shower, sweaty boy. I like my toys clean and sweet," Mike whispered as he kissed Mel's cheek. The smaller man placed another refreshing glass of fruit juice in Mel's hand.
Cornwall showered and put on his original clothes, now clean for the first time in days. Downstairs, about half of the tables were still full. Mel took a place at the bar so he would leave the tables for the paying customers. Mike promised Mel lunch, dinner, and another night in the guest room for unloading the flatbed and returning it by himself.
"What would you like?" Jake asked, indicating the menu board.
"That Salisbury steak sounds good," Mel responded. "With the vegetable platter too."
"Coming up," Jake responded.
The vegetable platter arrived first, and Mel began to eat quickly. He'd been running on empty for a couple of hours. During his life, Cornwall had taken part in regular exercise and sports, but he'd never spent so much time in intense physical labor like the last two days. But considering his circumstances, he'd better get used to it.
While his family had by no means been wealthy, Mel never knew what it was to do without the necessities of life. Here on Orion, he could not afford to get sick, to take a day off, or pass up an opportunity to earn cash or goods.
"Here you go," Jake said as he placed Mel's plate before him. "Don't be ashamed to eat it all."
"That's not going to happen," Mel remarked. Cornwall ate while keeping an eye out for an opportunity to talk to Jake and Mike. It didn't come until the two men closed and locked the doors for their afternoon break.
"How do you think you did on the test," Mike asked as he came over and leaned on the bar beside Mel.
"I think I did well. We'll know the results after they finish interviewing all of the applicants about three days." Mel helped load all the dishes into the machine for cleaning. There weren't many dirty ones as Jake had to keep the dishes moving through the cleaner in order to keep serving during the lunch rush.
"We can keep you employed until you know one way or the other," Mike responded. "As soon as we finish here, we can head over to the Brewers and pick up your clothes."
"Okay." Cornwall looked back and forth between the men. "I wanted to ask you about making a deal on the room I slept in. I'd like to trade daily labor for the room so I can hang onto my cash."
Mike and Jake smiled at each other. "Sounds like a plan, kid," Jake agreed. "You won't have a lot of days with huge orders like today, but they will happen."
Mike pulled out his notepad. He wrote 'Brewers for Mel's clothes', followed by 'pick up bread' and 'order dairy'. "Run down our list for me again, Jake. I don't want to leave anything off."
"Clothes, bank, bread, our dairy order, place our two permanent job openings on the board, be sure they know two meals a day come with the job, and room and board for a sous-chef."
"That's quite an offer," Mel said appreciatively. Most of the refugees did not have a permanent roof over their heads. The Rooming House was just a stop-gap measure for the refugees and was not a real residence.
"With this railroad contract, we're going to need to start making those lunches either the night before or *extremely* early in the morning. That means we need someone else on the premises." Jake put his arm around Cornwall's shoulders. "You did good with our supplies today, Mel. I know I couldn't have handled it all myself."
"Sure you could have. It just would have taken you longer," Mel answered. Cornwall relaxed into the older man's embrace, thoroughly enjoying the contact.
"I detect a cuddling," Mike declared before piling into the two larger men.
Mel found himself center stage in a three-way cuddle. It was very nice. Though he was definitely the smallest amongst them, Mike held his own when it came to hugging tightly. The smaller man smelled of hot bread and garlic. It made Mel want to lick him from head to toe.
Jake's big hands were rubbing the life back into Mel's ass. Cornwall's dick hardened up and began poking Mike's stomach.
The smaller man grinned up at him. "Let's take this party upstairs," Mike suggested.
The three men made it to the master bedroom and dived onto the bed. Mel was peeled by Mike, who was grinning at him like a kid on a holiday morning.
Mike kissed his way up Mel's body, starting at the toes and ending with a breath-stealing kiss. Jake moved up behind Mel and began teasing his asshole while sucking an especially sensitive area of Mel's shoulder.
When Mel was 15 he'd discovered that his ass was extremely sensitive to sexual play. His sexual instructor was a woman, so Mel had gone to his father with his observation. Donald Cornwall was a tall, strong, bear of a man, but Mel's simple question had reduced him to a blushing, sputtering fool. After four aborted attempts to say something to his youngest child, Donald had simply changed the subject.
Less than a week later, a male sexual instructor had been added to the list of Mel's teachers. His mother Evelyn's reaction to this added expense had been to prepare a meal of Mel's favorites and toast him for his bisexuality. This meant that if only male potential mates were interested, Mel would not spurn them. His mother was always very practical.
Jake may have never had special sexual instructors, but he had a natural talent. His fingers, his mouth, even the gentle rub of his muscled body against Mel was making the younger man's toes curl. When he pressed his long, slim cock into Mel, Cornwall actually shouted with joy. It had been so long since someone had taken him in pleasure. To the spacer, Stan Burke, Mel's ass had just been a place for friendly friction, but to Jake it was a place to both give and receive pleasure.
Mel held onto Mike as Jake took his body up and down the scales of pleasure. "So good, so good," he moaned. Mike took Mel's face in his hands and placed a series of tender, hot kisses on his lips, eyelids, and nose. Mel didn't know his nose was an erogenous zone. Or at least it wasn't before.
As the smaller man's tongue danced around the curve and tip of Mel's nose, Cornwall simply surrendered to both men. They'd conquered him in a few minutes of sexual battle.
"Gawd!!!" Mel shouted as his cum spurted onto Mike's thighs. Cornwall pushed back into Jake as the heavier man began to pump harder on his way to orgasm. Mel flexed the muscles in his ass.
"Oh yeah, just like that," Jake encouraged. "Work that ass, Mel."
Cornwall flexed again and again, building a rhythm with the larger man until Jake went silent and his body became *hard*. Every muscle was bunched as his cum spurted deep into Mel, causing the younger man to shiver.
"So sweet," Mike whispered as Jake gently removed himself from Mel. The big man kissed Mel tenderly before moving so Mike could take his place.
While Jake was a slow steady fuck, Mike could vary the speed, depth, and power of his thrusts so quickly that Mel couldn't keep up. If Jake hadn't been holding his hands, Mel would have clawed up the smaller man's back in a futile effort to control him. Mike was a wild man, taking Mel on a sexual rampage.
Cornwall was a limp, sweaty, and satisfied man, by the time he felt Mike cum. "Very sweet," Mike panted as he eased his long, thick cock out of Mel.
"You were *wild*," Mel gasped.
"You make me that way," Mike countered as he wiped the sweat off Mel's upper lips with his thumb. They kissed.
The three men exchanged long kisses for several minutes before Jake rolled out of the bed. "Come on, guys. We've got a lot of work to do before the dinner crowd." He pulled Mel and Mike out of bed and into the shower.
Mel was loving the sweet attention to his body by the two other men, but he knew he wasn't going to be able to talk them into another quick fuck. Or at least he didn't think he could.
"Grab the top of the shower door," Jake whispered as he pushed Mel's legs further apart.
Mel moved into position and sighed as the big man's soapy hands gently caressed his balls and cock. "Oh, Gawd," he moaned as Jake's long man-pole slammed home into his ass. "Yes, yes. Fuck me, big man. Fuck my ass so good." Mel continued to babble as Jake continued to pump his ass and cock.
Mike moved up behind Jake and pushed into him. Mel could feel the smaller man's thrusts echoed in Jake's thrusts into him. Mel clutched the top of the shower door and used his superior strength to keep Jake's powerful thrusts from smashing him into the tempered glass.
Cornwall couldn't imagine a more decadent feeling. His cock was in a fist of bubbles, his ass was being gloriously plowed, and the heated, pulsing water of the shower was beating down on his back and shoulders. It was heaven.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Mike shouted as his thrusts became rabbit quick.
"Yeah, yeah," Jake agreed as his hot cum spurted into Mel.
"Fucking insane!" Mel shot his cum onto the glass door and then almost slid down it. Jake wrapped his arms around the lighter man's waist and held him up.
Gently, the big man pulled out of Mel's happy asshole and allowed the water to rinse them. Mel was still grinning stupidly as the three men tumbled outside and ineffectually dried each other.
"I am so *fortified*," Mike declared as he stepped into clean clothes. "Come on, Mel, we have a lot to do." Mike dashed out of the bathroom and down the stairs.
Cornwall stared at Jake, who was still trying to dry himself. "Where does he get his energy?"
"Sex makes some people sleepy, it *gives* Mike energy." Jake stretched. "Another one of nature's jokes." He grinned.
"How long have you two been together?" Mel asked as he dried the larger man's back.
"Almost ten years," Jake answered with a sort of wistful tone to his words.
"Ten? Wait a minute, how old is Mike?" Mel asked scandalized. He knew that Jake was 35 because Kirk had told him, but he was convinced Mike was around 25, which would have made him 15 when Jake was 25.
Jake smiled. "He looks 22, but Mike is actually 30 years old," Anderson answered.
"Oh." Mel blushed because he'd been angry that Jake would take advantage of a teenager. But now he knew the men were actually only five years apart in age, and that both were more than ten years older than him.
"No, I'm not robbing the cradle, but I like to treat Mike like I am." He wiggled his eyebrows. "It's such a scandal."
Mel laughed. A pretend scandal was much better than the real thing. The two men dressed and headed downstairs.
Mike had the scooter hooked up to one of their wagons. "Come on, lazy bones. We have a long list of things to do."
Mel climbed on the scooter behind Mike, nestled his cock against the smaller man's ass, and got just the wicked grin he was hoping for.
"Save some for me," Jake demanded as the two men pulled onto the road.
"Always, lover," Mike promised. "The wind in my hair and a juicy hunk against my ass. This is the life."
"Do you miss Earth?" Mel asked after a bit.
"Some of the people yes. Some of the perks, yes. But I don't miss the noise, the crowds, and the crime." Mike pulled the scooter up in front an impressive building proclaiming itself to be the First Bank of Orion. Which meant it was the *only* bank of Orion. They went inside.
While the lines to the loan desk was long, the tellers were just sitting and waiting. Mel decided to open an account and stop carrying all his money on his person. It was just asking for trouble.
On Riverworld, if you had 100 credits to open an account, you'd be lucky to actually deposit half of if after the assorted fees and taxes had been applied. But the bank charged no fees or taxes. Every credit he'd deposited ended up in his account. He felt almost prosperous once he'd been issued his credit strip.
After they left the bank, it was a short walk to the employment office where they advertised the Apple Blossom's two permanent jobs.
Their next stop was Brewers. There they dropped off seven bolts of fabric and some thread which would become table cloths, napkins, and aprons for the restaurant. While they waited, Mel was laser measured and fitted with two pairs of pants and two short-sleeved shirts. Winter was months away, so Mel would wait before getting a long sleeved shirt or a coat.
Mel and Mike left with his custom-fitted clothes carefully packed into the wagon. Mike was pouting as he watched Mel tie down his clothes. "What is it?" Cornwall asked.
"Now I have no excuse to keep you naked," the older man pouted.
Mel kissed the smaller man. "Jake, when you want me naked, I'm with you on that."
Anderson smiled. "Good," he said before giving Mel another kiss.
The two of them headed off to Miller's Dairy Emporium where they placed the restaurant's orders, including the sliced sandwich cheeses they'd be needing to make the railroad's sandwiches. Mel tasted several of the cheeses they had to offer, including a blue cheese he liked so much he spent his own money on it. Unless it was going in a salad dressing, blue cheese was a little upscale for the Apple Blossom where most of the clientele purchased the blue plate special and licked the generously filled dishes clean.
On their way to the bakery, Mel and Jake found a wagon tilted to the side and mostly blocking the road. They moved their scooter and wagon to side and went over to help.
"Hey," Mike called. "Can we help?"
Two young men were both looking at the left front tire which was being squished by the load. "It collapsed," the taller man explained. Both were black haired, and eyed. Both had beautiful mouths and almond shaped eyes. Both were close to Mel's age, if not younger.
Mike swung under the wagon and looked carefully. "The hose feeding the air pressure to this spring has a hole in it. I can patch it, but we'll need to unload most of the wagon before I can pump it back up."
The four men shifted the load of peaches away from the damaged corner. Mel watched carefully as Mike's clever hands repaired the hose with the kit from their wagon. Neither of the Woo brothers knew they had a kit in their wagon or how to use it. Mike took the opportunity to explain how the repair kit worked to the three younger men.
Just as Mike said it would, the wagon went back to level, and the load was quickly redistributed. The Woo brothers had no cash to spare for Mel and Mike's help, but they did have peaches. A payment of 5 bushels of peaches was offered and accepted. The men shook on it and parted ways.
"How did you know how to do that?" Mel asked once they were moving again.
"I asked when we bought our wagon because there's no handy garage around here. We have to be able to fix everything we have." Mike pulled the scooter in front of the bakery. "Grab one of those bushels of peaches. We need to be able to bargain. We may be family, but that doesn't help us at all with Ida."
Mel knew that Ida was Jake's mother and the boss of the bakery. Jake's father, Sam, was her second-in-command. She did all the bargaining because Sam was perceived as a pushover for his children.
"Hi, Dad," Mike called as he walked into the bakery. He kissed and hugged the older man at the counter. Mel now knew that Jake would be a serious stud for years to come. Sam Anderson was one seriously handsome man. "Dad, this is Melvin Cornwall. He's living with us, and likes to be called Mel."
Sam grinned. "So you're the total blonde cutie Susan and Kirk were talking about." He eyed Mel up and down. "I see what they mean."
Cornwall blushed furiously and held onto the peaches like a shield. "It's nice to meet you, sir."
"Call me, Sam, son." He opened the door behind him and stepped into the doorframe. "Ida, Mike is here and he's bought Mel with him."
Ida stepped into the front of the bakery. She was a tall, thin woman with a surprisingly plain face when compared to her stunning daughter. "Hello," she said softly. Her eyes rested on the bushel of ripe peaches Mel was holding in front of him. "Peaches?"
"Yes, ma'am," Mel answered. He looked hopefully at Mike, who gave him a reassuring smile.
"We have the railroad contract, so we'll need sliced bread for 700 sandwiches a day, six days a week," Mike announced.
"That's wonderful, Mel," Ida replied. "What time of day would you need this bread?"
"What's the earliest you could get it to us?" Mel asked.
"No earlier than 4:30," she answered. "Call it 5:00 to be safe. But it'll be pre-sliced and already loaded into drop tubes."
"Drop tubes?" Mel asked. He hadn't meant to interrupt the bargaining, but the phrase confused him.
"The bread drops down from the tubes one slice at a time," Mel explained. "It makes conveyor belt sandwich making possible."
"Son, why don't we place those peaches on the table," Sam suggested as he came around the counter. "We'll leave the negotiations to the experts." He herded Mel and his basket to a small table placed along the west wall of the bakery.
"Thank you, Sam." Mel placed his burden on the table, and the older man began sorting through the contents.
"These are some large, firm fleshed peaches," Sam said appreciatively. "What are you planning on doing with them?"
Mel hadn't a clue. Sure he could polish off quite a few by himself, but they'd likely go bad before even he could eat them. Then he remembered what Kirk had said about preserving food. "I hadn't thought about it, since we just traded for them, but I'm sure we'll freeze some, can some, and make preserves out of the rest."
Sam smiled. "Good plan, son."
Ida and Mike shook hands and both were smiling, which Mel was glad to see. "It's a done deal," Mike announced.
"How many peaches did we get in the bargain?" Sam asked as he kept a possessive hand on the rim of the bushel basket. Mel grinned at the older man's expression. It plainly said Mike was going *nowhere* with those peaches.
Ida patted her husband's shoulder. "We get to keep the whole bushel, sweetheart. You don't have to beat them up," she assured Sam. "Now we need to fill the rest of their order."
Sam looked longingly at the peaches. "I've counted them," he warned no one in particular.
Mel was absolutely drooling by the time they had loaded up the restaurant's order of coffeecake, danish, crescent rolls, bagels, and uncooked dough balls which would become rolls and loaves of bread.
Just as they were about to leave, Ida placed a carrot cake in Mel's hands. "This is for you, Mel." She kissed his cheek.
"Thank you, ma'am," Mel said softly. He really hadn't been expecting a present.
"You call me Ida," she instructed. "Now, I want you to go home and look after my boys. They can get into such trouble without even trying." The words were spoken sternly, but Ida was smiling. When she smiled, he could easily see where Susan got her beauty.
"Okay, Ida," Mel agreed shyly. He kissed her cheek, then climbed on the scooter behind Mike. The wagon was absolutely stuffed, so he held his treasure carefully as they made their way back to the restaurant. It was just a few blocks away, so Mel had no fear for his cake.
Jake stepped outside and helped them unload. The older man was wearing only his khaki shorts and sandals. "I was starting to worry about you guys."
"We came across a wagon in trouble and received 5 bushels of peaches for our help," Mike explained.
"What happened to the fifth one?" Jake asked as he helped carry in their cargo.
"We traded it for goodies at the bakery," Mike said as he placed Mel's blue cheese in the back of the refrigerator. "Don't serve the blue cheese, it belongs to Mel."
"Okay," Jake agreed. "When will they deliver the bread?"
"Five in the morning," Mike answered. "That means if we don't have some help by then, we need to get started at about 3:30," he lamented.
"Ack!" Jake groaned. "That means we won't have time to molest Mel. How can we start our day without molesting Mel?"
Mike puzzled for a moment. "I got it! We molest him twice in the afternoon." He patted his own shoulder. "I'm so good."
Cornwall chuckled. "Am I a morning tidbit now?"
"Tidbit!?! You're a full platter of sex," Jake insisted. He grabbed the taller man and dipped him. "We just want to take you to the Casbah and do wicked things to you." He nuzzled Mel's throat.
Someone knocked on the door, otherwise Cornwall was sure he would have been, at the very least, felt up. Jake put him back in the upright position and forced the pout off of his lips. "Can I flog them if they're not here to work?"
"I'll help you," Mike promised. "I was looking forward to your next move."
Mel stepped out into the main part of the restaurant. Not that he would be much help in an interview, but he wanted to be there just in case somebody was here to start trouble. That, he could handle.
Jake pushed aside the curtain and gasped. "My God, there must be sixty people out there." He cracked the door. "Hello?"
"We're here to interview for your staff positions," the young woman at the door announced.
Jake turned back toward his husband. "What should we do?"
Mike looked at the crowd and then around the restaurant. "Bring them in and seat them at the tables. Try to remember the order so we can do a first come, first interview." He turned to Mel. "Bring in three bushels of potatoes, Mel, and some knives for peeling."
Mel did as directed. Mike put potatoes and knives at each of the tables and told the applicants to get peeling.
Mel didn't know what blanching meant in regards to potatoes or vegetables in general. Why didn't they just tell him to boil them for a couple of minutes? Selena Holmes, one of the applicants, had twenty-six people ahead of her to be interviewed, assisted Cornwall. Selena had completed her potatoes, so she ended up in the kitchen helping Mel blanche, season, and bag the potatoes which would be fried for the railroad lunches the next day.
Selena was petite, nicely rounded, with short brown curls, brown eyes, dark skin, and beautiful full lips. Like Mel, she was a refugee from Riverworld. "They came into the restaurant at the height of the dinner crowd and told us to get out. There must have been 30 of them representing the Hellman family, all heavily armed."
"What happened?" Mel asked anxiously.
"They lined the Moses family up to execute them, then a second squad showed up representing the Hilliard family. They killed off the Hellman squad and then killed the Moses family themselves." She shuddered. "The restaurant and the four buildings surrounding it were destroyed which brought two factions into the conflict who had been neutral before. Then it actually got worse."
"How?" Mel asked. He knew there was bad blood between the Hellman and Moses families, but had no idea where the Hilliards fit into the melee.
"Prince Halifax escaped from his Earth prison and has all but taken over. I got away as quickly as I could." She leaned against the counter. "We have some unpleasant history, and I figured my life expectancy had just shortened considerably."
"What kind of bad blood?" Cornwall asked.
Selena scowled. "Since Max was having a hard time taking 'no' for an answer, I decided he'd listen to a broken nose." She paused. "I was right."
"Good for you," Mel said approvingly. Max Ryan was an arrogant prick. Joshua, Mel's older brother, had transferred to a different school to get away from Ryan's nonstop seduction attempts. Ryan was not offering marriage, and Mel seriously doubted Josh would have been interested if he had.
Cornwall could suddenly see his handsome brother's face. Josh had a sort of lopsided smile which always decorated his face, and the deepest emerald eyes. His brother also had a bad habit of walking with his hands in his pockets, which made him look like he was advertising. Cornwall tried to push his brother's face from his mind before the fact that Josh was dead bubbled back to the surface.
"Are you alright, Mel?" Selena asked.
"Yes, I was just thinking about... things." Cornwall blinked away the tears. "How did he get out?" Mel asked. Max Ryan, also known by his proper title of Prince Halifax, had kidnapped and nearly raped an Earth businessman. He'd received a 15 year sentence. Various attempts by his family to get him transferred to a Riverworld prison had failed. The Earth authorities had no intention of parting with Ryan's company.
"Ryan ate poison, enough to kill him, and escaped from the hospital with the help of one of his squads. He was bragging about it during his broadcasts." Selena loaded the last of the peeled potatoes into the hopper of the machine which turned the potatoes into french fries.
"What do we do with all these skins?" Mel asked.
"Make the water for potato bread, slivered and fried for garnish, and you could feed it to your hog and chickens," she suggested.
Mel felt so out of his element. Until that day, he hadn't known corn came in green leafy covers. Did *everyone* know how to survive but him? "Okay," he said softly.
Selena smiled. It was quite a contrast to the serious expression she had been wearing. "I spent this morning looking at the job board and thinking how useless I was. This afternoon there was an advertisement for a job I actually have a great deal of experience doing."
Mike stepped in and surveyed their work. "Selena, it's your turn." He guided the smaller woman back out to where Jake was waiting.
Mel looked around and hoped that now he was alone he wouldn't do anything wrong. The last of the french fries dumped down into the seasoning mix, causing Mel to jump. His mind had started to wander, and that was dangerous when he was in such unfamiliar territory.
He bagged the now seasoned fries and placed them in the freezer compartment of the food storage area. Then he waited. Mel had no idea what needed to be done next. The dinner crowd would be coming in less than two hours and there wasn't even a menu ready. Other than his strong back, Mel was worthless to Jake and Mike at the moment.
Cornwall leaned against the refrigerator and crossed his arms. In the days since his family's ship had been destroyed, Mel had steadfastly tried not to linger on his family. They would have insisted he go on and survive as best as he could. On Riverworld, the thin coat of civility was very thin indeed. His mother had once told him that their superior genes also bred superior ambition. She'd also emphasized that a society which desired to crush all they perceived as weak underneath their heel could push cruelty to new levels.
Assassination was a very real possibility once you'd achieved a certain level within their society. It was sick, now that he thought about it, but there was a tradition of throwing a massive party after surviving an assassination attempt because it meant that someone important or very well off thought of you as a threat.
Cornwall hadn't even known when his family had become a threat. He had a theory, but it was only that. Mel's oldest sister, Jennifer, was being, Cornwall mentally corrected himself, had been courted by three different houses. She was simply one of the most beautiful women Mel had ever seen, even if she was his sister. Beautiful and, as befitting an ambitious house, accomplished. She must have accepted a marriage contract from either the house of Harrisburg, Goldman, or Jackson. All of which were possible enemies to the Drummond family, who had come after Mel.
Selena returned to the kitchen and began pulling food from the refrigerator. "I've been hired," she announced as if she had never had any doubt about the outcome. It may not have been arrogance, just a simple understanding of her own credentials and how they would stack up against everyone else's. It wasn't bragging if it was true. That had been one of Josh's favorite sayings.
Josh, Jennifer, his mother, and father were almost ghost-like at the moment. Mel knew if he moved any closer to them emotionally, he would lose it. They would all be so ashamed of him. Cornwall squared his shoulders in their memory.
"What can I do to help?" Mel asked.
"Fill up a washtub with hot, soapy water and go out and wipe down all the tables," she suggested. "Normally I like three hours prep time, but Jake said the dinner crowd would come straggling up in about two hours."
Cornwall grabbed one of the tubs he'd scrubbed down earlier, filled it with hot water and soap, and went out to clean the tables. After a bit, Mike and another man began to set the tables with tablecloths and napkins. Jake disappeared into the kitchen.
"Mel, this is Paul House, he'll be our new waiter and kitchen assistant," Mike announced once they'd finished.
Cornwall extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."
"Likewise," Paul replied, shaking Mel's hand. He had a deep, almost rusty voice. The older man was average height, athletic, dark haired and eyed, with very fair skin. He would have never made it at a construction site without several layers of sunblock.
"What next?" Mel asked now that the tables were ready for diners.
"Come out back and let me show the two of you how to fill and run the waterboy." Mike said as he led them to the side courtyard.
The waterboy turned out to be a tank with its own cooling system and multiple spouts. The tank was on a set of wheels with a front guidance panel and wagon connection. Obviously it was meant to be towed for long distances and maneuver into place under its own power after it was setup. Once filled with water, the workers would be able to have cool fresh water whenever they wanted.
"The workers will all get collapsible cups which hold up to one and a half liters and then fold down flat to fit in a pocket or hang off their belt." Mel went through the controls, and demonstrated how to fill and drain the system.
Not that Mel ever expected to have to drain the system. When he'd been on the high school site, the water tank had been totally empty when the work day still had two hours to go.
"Do they have water onsite?" House inquired.
"Unfortunately not," Mike answered. "By the time they have water in our first location, we will have moved on to our third site. We go where most of the manual labor is occurring."
Cornwall understood. The track laying was the most labor intensive part of the operation, therefore the water needed to be with those workers. Water and power workers would follow, always a step or two behind the track.
"We've gone back to the so-called taming of the West," Mike remarked. "Except this time we don't have to kill the indigenous population."
"Do we also get the shanty towns, brothels, low-rent bars, and brawls?" House asked impishly.
"Lord, I hope not," Mike responded.
=================
Mel crawled into his bed ready to melt in exhaustion. After serving the dinner crowd, Mel had gone to the storage warehouse with Selena and gathered her belongings. Unlike Mel, she had managed to leave with more than the clothes on her back, but not much more.
He then stopped at the employment board and canceled the Apple Blossom's positions.
After getting Selena moved into the third bedroom, he'd helped setup the warm packs. Mel had wondered how something which seemed so slender could possibly hold enough food to keep someone doing hard labor going. Cornwall knew, as well as everyone else, that this was probably the only meal these people would see all day.
The individual packs expanded to many times their original size. It was almost miraculous to watch. Each pack could hold a sandwich or roasted vegetable medley for vegetarians, two cookies, a salad or soup, and an apple. It was the apples that had worn him out. Mel spent two hours gathering enough apples for the lunches and to make more of the restaurant's signature dishes.
After his shower, all Mel wanted was sleep. He only had five hours before he needed to be up to help make, load, and deliver the lunches.
Cornwall kept twisting and turning in the bed. His room was comfortable and well ventilated, but Mel could not cross into sleep. It was like his mind knew once he was asleep the nightmares of the previous night would return. Mel was not a coward, but he did not want to face the images of his burning, screaming family alone.
Mel picked up a pillow and walked naked to the master bedroom. Jake was sweetly draped over Mike, with the smaller man providing body pillow service. There was a tiny bit of room left, surely too small for someone as large as Mel, but it looked so inviting.
Mel eased into the large bed on the side of the smaller man and was immediately snuggled by Mike, "Ssshhh," Mike whispered before giving Mel a soft kiss. He made a little more room, and the three men were comfortably placed on the mattress.
The nightmares, when faced by Mel's two fierce guardians, decided to seek easier prey elsewhere. Cornwall slept soundly.
=================
Jake was surprised to find fifteen apple baskets overflowing with produce. After the breakfast crowd had been fed, Mike, Mel, and Paul had delivered the railroad meals and the waterboy. After the men had returned with their clothes askew and swearing they'd been mobbed by near-to-starving railroad workers, Jake sent Paul and Mel out to gather apples.
"Wow, great job, guys," He said appreciatively to the reclining pair. Paul and Mel were resting on the side porch swing. When Jake had first seen it set up, he'd envisioned lazy afternoons with his man lying across his lap while he played with Mike's curls. It never happened. They were just too busy. Seeing Mel and Paul there made him wistful. "How did you get so much picked?"
Mel smiled. "We improvised," he reported smugly. "A group of boys were looking for work, so we gave them three bushels for the ten they picked. Now they're heading to the market to sell their share."
Jake nodded. "Clever. Any hope they'll show up again tomorrow?"
"You can count on it," Mel answered. "I was at the market yesterday and there wasn't nearly enough fruit to fill all the orders and have enough to sell to people just walking in."
"They make money, we get our apples picked, and it costs the restaurant nothing because a lot of that fruit is just going to fall to the ground," Paul added.
"Men who think. I love it," Selena declared. She carried out a big bushel basket of peas. "You don't have to get up. We can sit and shell."
Jake took up a position on the swing, and Mike came out with tubs for the shelled peas and sat beside him. It wasn't the lazy snuggle Jake had dreamed of, but it would do. The five of them finished the peas fairly quickly, then simply sat and enjoyed the apple scented breeze coming from the orchard.
"I noticed you have a great deal of cleared land," Selena began. "What are your plans for this place?"
Jake grinned because this was one of his favorite subjects--the future of the Apple Blossom, therefore his and Mike's future.
He pointed the level area north of the restaurant. Currently, the only thing there were the drains and water system waiting for the outdoor part of the restaurant to be built. "That's where the patio part will be built. We'll have three fireplaces, ceiling fans, a hidden cooling system, and miracle glass which has power levels that can be set to withstand a hurricane or be lowered to let the breeze flow through."
"There'll be a music stand and separate bar in that building and an outdoor grill," Mike added. "Plus live music and room for dancing. Just the place to have a wedding reception or anniversary party." He pointed to a site further north. "On that large parcel further up the road will be our apple processing site. Apple Blossom apple sauce, apple preserves, pie filling, cider, juice, and vinegar." He sighed happily. "It's going to be so great."
Jake couldn't resist his husband's mouth and kissed his man soundly. He loved that the man who shared his life also shared his vision. "Across the road, set way back is our house. Or it will be. There's a creek-fed pond, room for gardens, and our hilltop house."
"We go back there for picnics sometimes and describe it to each other," Mike continued. "By the time we can actually build it, we'll have saved a fortune in remodeling."
Everyone laughed. It felt good to Jake to be able to talk about their future home, which wasn't feeling as far away as it once had. "We need to get the two of you over to Brewer's to be fitted for work clothes," Jake announced. "Don't worry, we'll pay for them."
"Mel, grab four bolts of the dark green fabric and four spools of the matching thread, load up the wagon, and take Selena and Paul over to Brewer's," Mike ordered. "They need three trousers, two shorts, and three shirts a piece."
"Okay," Mel agreed as he got to his feet. "I was waiting for Kirk to come pick up the scooter."
"Don't worry, we'll give it to him," Jake promised. He watched them leave then tightened his grip on his husband. "Where do you think you're going, cutie?"
"I was going to do a couple of loads of laundry, and start the prep work for lunch," Mike answered lazily. He twirled around on the swing and placed his head in Jake's lap. "But I can be talked out of it fairly easy."
Jake shared a long, soft kiss with Mike. "Good." He buried his fingers into Mike's thick, rich curls. "I want to enjoy this with you." Jake bent down and kissed Mike's forehead. "This is one of my dream images of us."
Mike purred softly as he kicked off his shoes and wiggled his naked toes in the cooling breeze. The swing rocked gently, further stirring the warm air. "It's a good one."
Jake had to agree with that. The two men rocked the swing and enjoyed the silence and each other.
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