Mate. He’s our mate.
The goddess had answered me, and I’d lost him.
1
MERRICK
SIX MONTHS AGO
When I opened my mail to see that I had won an all-expenses-paid week in the mountains, I was sure it was a scam. Maybe it was a time share presentation I had to sit through, or a phishing attempt where they were looking for my social security number so they could steal my identity. It might’ve been just a random attempt at getting me to go and swipe my card for incidentals and have those incidentals be as much as a trip would have been. I didn't know, but it didn't seem right.
No one would ever accuse me of being lucky. I was the guy who went to college only to have my financial aid fall through the first week of school and end up in my first of many service-industry jobs. I was also the guy who had his first and only real connection with an alpha end with me having to leave the state because my brother was in the hospital. And there was that time my car set on fire for no reason the mechanic could ever figure out. Safe to say luck was rarely, if ever, on my side. I didn’t see them making up for it with a week in the mountains during the time of year I loved to hide away.
Even if I were the luckiest person on the planet, I had no recollection of entering my name into anything.
“To the shred pile you go.” I started to crumple it up and then changed my mind last second.
What if it was real? It wasn’t, but also… what if. Instead of tossing it in the shred pile like I’d planned on doing, I folded it up and put it in my pocket and brought it with me to work. I'd ask people there about it. If nothing else, it would be a good distraction before the place got busy.
I wasn’t looking forward to work tonight. It was a day where I was going to come home with not much more than I had when I walked in. Because the schedule was a hot mess, as usual, I was stuck bussing this shift. I didn’t hate the work. It was fine. Clearing tables was hardly taxing. What I did hate was the pay.
Sadly, we were shorthanded, and that meant we all ended up taking rotations through the different positions. It was wild because there were some days I was a bartender and having cash rain down on me, and then days like today, when I was bussing tables, and probably doing at least part of the shift as the dishwasher. Tomorrow I was waiting tables. At least the job was never boring.
It was safe to say my current management was pretty crappy at their job. They were nice, though, and tried to treat us well. If they weren’t the owner’s cousin, they wouldn’t have a job, of that I was positive. Still, this was one of the better jobs I’d had since moving back here. The money always averaged out to be decent, my co-workers were great, and it was never boring.
I arrived fifteen minutes early, hoping to grab something to eat before my shift began. That was one good thing about work; theytried to make up for the lack of organization with benefits, like getting a meal or having a drink after work.
"What kind of soup are we having tonight?" I asked Chef. No one knew his real name. He’d been called Chef the entire time I was here.
"It's your favorite." Chef winked. Most people couldn’t get away with winking at people the way he did. With anyone else, it would’ve been either creepy, or have you thinking they had an eye issue. With him, it was just Chef being Chef.
It was his grandmother's lemon rice soup recipe. And he wasn't exaggerating, it was my absolute favorite soup of all time. If I had to pick one meal to eat every day forever, that would be part of it. I had no idea what he put in it to make it so addictive, but I wasn’t the only one who would do unspeakable things for a spoonful of the culinary delight.
I served myself a bowl and stood against the wall, chatting with the others who were either coming in for my shift or getting ready to leave from theirs.
When the hostess, Sally, came in, she looked me dead in the eye. "Got something to tell us?"
I had no idea what she was talking about. Usually, when she made comments like that, it was to one of the staff who’d met someone and either left with them or exchanged numbers. She did love to gossip, especially when it came to love… or in most cases, attraction.
"I don't think so." I had not a clue what she was talking about.
"Merrick, you don't know, or are you being shy because you're afraid we're going to invite ourselves?" If she thought I went home with someone, that was a weird way to ask about it.
But why would she? I hadn’t gone home with anyone from work in years. One-night stands weren’t my thing. The one person I did have a thing with from work was years ago when I was bartending, and there was nothing casual about it—at least not for me.
If I didn’t have to rush to help my father… I didn’t want to think about what could’ve been. All these years later and I still thought about King an unhealthy amount. Focusing on what I might’ve had wasn’t going to accomplish anything except making me sad.
"Sally, back up and tell me what you are asking because I’m beyond confused.”
"I saw on the website that you won."
"What website?" The woman was talking in riddles.
"The radio station… You won a week in the mountains..." She swirled her hand in the air, encouraging me to fill in the blanks.
"Oh." I set my bowl down and dug out the notification letter. "You mean this?"
Sally grabbed it. "Yeah! Aren't you excited?"
