Chapter 8: Finding a New Place

Jason

Leaving the resort at the height of the season probably was not my best move, but Linda has reopened all my emotional wounds and I just could not face her. I probably could have returned, but by the time I had calmed down three days later I was in a small fishing town on the Gulf Coast and sampling some truly terrible seafood at lunchtime at a little diner near the docks. The place was nearly empty and I had not noticed when a grizzled man with a grey beard dropped into the chair across from me.

"It can't be that bad," he said. "It's my mother's best recipe."

I raised an eyebrow and looked at him. "It's heavy and way to greasy for seafood. Add in the fact that the fish is overcooked so much that it's dry, and I'm afraid I now have a perfect understanding of why people aren't packing the place demanding lunch."

The man looked a bit upset. "And I suppose you can cook better than that?" he said, rising up from his chair.

I sighed and shook my head. "Look, I'm not here to fight. If you want proof, let me finish this, and I'll run your kitchen for dinner service tonight. After that, we can talk."

The man looked at me and laughed. "A boy like you running the kitchen here? The men on the trawlers would pay to see this. Better be ready to fall on your face, sonny."

Fifteen minutes later I was looking over an extremely filthy and disorganized kitchen and wondering what I had gotten myself into. The stocks of seafood were good, but there was little in the way of vegetables or spices. I probably wasted nearly an hour trying to figure out the menu that was in place before asking the man if I could make changes. His only reply was a snort of amusement, so I quickly wrote out a couple chefs' specials for the entry chalkboard and began trying to clear an area of the kitchen to cook in.

The dinner staff turned out to be a young lightly colored black lady who appeared to be my age. She performed double duty as hostess and waitress while the old man stood behind the poorly stocked bar and watched. The bar did have a few men of his age sitting at it, but the place remained quiet even once dinner service started.

The old man might have told others, but it appeared that few decided to brave the boy's cooking because that first night only twelve people showed up. I was disheartened by the quality of the food I was sending out as it was well below the standard I wanted to set, and even below the quality of the seafood itself, but the lack of fresh produce and spices had limited my options.

Interestingly, the waitress kept coming over and smiling at me as I sent plates out to the four tables of guests who did attend. The smile was small and tentative with the first table, but by the time I had finished a crisped snapper grill for the last table her smile was bright enough to light the room by itself. Still the pace was slow enough that I was even able to continue with some cleaning and organizing between tables.

When the last diners left, the young waitress came into the kitchen, and dragged me to a table almost throwing me into a chair. There were still a couple men sitting at the bar drinking, but she immediately started questioning me.

"Where did you come from? Are you going to stay? Can you cook like that every night? Are you really willing to help grandpa?" came rattling out of her mouth faster than I could answer.

She finished her series of questions and then looked closely at me. I waited a moment to see if she was going to continue and then replied. "Um ... Hello. My name is Jason. As for the staying, that would be up to the old man behind the bar. I haven't really thought that far."

The girl seemed upset for a moment but then started with another rapid-fire speech. "Oh, but you must stay. Everyone was saying that it was the best food served here since Grandma Nellie died three years ago. Grandpa tries, but he's not a cook. Besides, you are cute. You can do so much. You have to stay."

I was taken back as the girl leaned over the table to look me directly in the eyes. She was bending over the table, and her tight-fitting waitress top had slipped down to give me a clear view of the tops of her full breasts. I felt myself getting hard and was trying to formulate an answer when the old man from lunch stepped out from behind the bar.

"Calm down Tameka," he called out. "I was going to see if the young man wanted to stay, but it's got to be his choice." He walked over to the table we were sitting at, and I could now see a faint familial resemblance between the old white sailor and the young black lady accosting me. He obviously noticed me making the comparison and laughed. "She's my daughter's daughter. Dumb girl decided that she had to try out one of the ghetto boys. Last I heard she was working in Houston in one of the clubs, so Meke stays with me."

"Grandpa!" the girl shouted and swatted at him with a towel she had been using to wipe down tables. "You aren't supposed to tell anyone about that!"

The man grumbled, but smiled and winked at me before continuing. "Well, I will admit that I was wrong, everyone seemed very happy with the food, so if you want, the kitchen is yours. Can't offer much, just sixty dollars a day, but if you need a place to stay my old boat is just a short walk, and you can crash in one of the cabins. They are small, but it will save you from having to find a hotel."

I had to be surprised that my luck had brought me to a struggling diner for the second time, but the man's smile appeared genuine and the offer appeared generous. I took a moment to think about it before replying. "Well, the offer sounds good, but if you really want me to serve good food, I need to have authority to purchase better produce and such, and I insist on having Mondays off."

The man looked at me and laughed before putting his hand out and saying, "Deal." I took his hand to return the handshake as Tameka wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss on the cheek.

After my experience with the resort, I had some idea of the process of setting up new sources of produce and food. However, the kitchen had clearly suffered from several years of neglect as well, and the next morning found me scouring surfaces and clearing out a series of inedible concoctions stored in various locations. The rocking of the boat had proved to be soothing and my nightmares had failed to surface for the first time since I had seen Linda up in Wyoming, so I had renewed energy. I had pretty much cleared out the main area I was planning on using when the old man wandered in and found me. He looked around the much-improved kitchen and said. "You did all this? This place hasn't been this clean since Nellie first talked me into purchasing this back before Tameka was born."

There was a slight tear in the man's eyes and I waited patiently as he slowly looked through the kitchen. He paused a long moment as if perusing a fond memory before turning to me. "Oh, I came down to tell you that I've called ahead to the markets. They'll know who you are. Just tell them that Nathan is your boss and they will bill me as normal. I'd like you to cook for lunch as well as dinner. Lunch from eleven to two, and dinner from five until about ten."

I looked over at the clock and realized that it was only nine-fifteen, so I could probably make a trip to the market and still get back in time to prepare lunches, if I hurried. I turned to the man I now knew to be Nathan and replied. "Lunch today might not be the best, but if I hurry I can probably make something happen. Where are the markets I should visit?"

Nathan smiled and gave me directions. The market keepers proved to be very helpful and I made it back to the diner with time to change the chalkboard of specials and start preparing food before Nathan returned to open the doors. Tameka appeared just as he did that and once again served as hostess and waitress. As it was the night before the crowd was small, but Tameka's smiles never wavered and on a couple occasions I could hear laughter from out in the dining area. Nathan spent most of the service behind the bar, and preparing drinks for the diners.

I wanted to ask either Nathan or Tameka questions after the meal, but both vanished immediately, and rather than search for them I returned to my cleaning and food preparation activities. The kitchen really needed a through steam cleaning to remove some of the accumulated grime, but at least it no longer looked in imminent danger of failing a health inspection. I even had time to pencil up a new menu, which would take advantage of some of the local and less expensive produce available in the market.

Dinner my second night in the diner was much busier than the previous night, which surprised me at first until I remembered that it was Friday and therefore a night many people would eat out. Tameka seemed beside herself with glee as the diner got crowded and Nathan finally had to come out from behind the bar to help clear tables so that his granddaughter could concentrate on serving customers. I was grateful that he had allowed me to remove certain hard to prepare items from the menu as I barely managed to keep up with the press and found myself wishing for a decent assistant cook.

In the end, everyone seemed to leave happy. Nathan was actually smiling as he watched a few old timers finish off drinks at the bar, when I finished shutting down the kitchen and prepared to leave. The men there gave me a loud and cheerful toast, which had me blushing as I exited the diner and then followed the well worn path down to the docks and Nathan's boat.

I guess I should describe Nathan's boat. It was a battered old sloop, obviously well used and weathered. The craft had a pair of small cabins, one in the front and a second one near the middle of the ship with the stern taken up by the motor which was used while in port or calm winds. I had taken the front cabin, thinking that it might be quieter, although Nathan warned me that the rocking might be stronger up there. It was small, but I was keeping most of my items in my car and only bringing clothing into the room at this time.

I had stepped into my cabin and was removing my shirt when a pair of arms wrapped around me and knocked me down onto the bed. I barely managed to get my hands up to protect my head from running to the wood wall of the cabin. I had gathered my strength and was preparing to spring backwards when I heard a very feminine giggle in my ear.

"Now, what are you going to do?" a voice purred as the arms relaxed slightly. I fought to roll over in the bed. I had finally got onto my back when I realized I was now shirtless and in the arms of Nathan's granddaughter Tameka before she bent her head down and tried to suck the air out of my lungs with a kiss.

I fought her off, and finally managed to break the kiss with a gasp. "Tameka! What are you doing here?" I cried as I looked down and realized she was wearing only an extremely scanty bra and panty set.

Tameka giggled. "What does it look like silly? I want you to stay, and I figure the best way is to seduce you into not wanting to leave." She rose up a little and then slid down my body before stopping to unbuckle my belt and remove my pants. I was still fighting to comprehend the situation when I felt her lips touch my cock and darkness momentarily washed over my heart.

There was a moment where I nearly threw Tameka out of the cabin, but instead I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back up towards my chest. "No, Tameka. That has bad memories for me." I whispered out as I held her against my chest. I had not realized that the act would be so devastating, and I was trying to avoid shaking with the intensity of my emotional reaction.

Tameka allowed me to hold her for several moments before pushing against my chest and looking me in the eyes. "How am I supposed to seduce you into staying then?" she asked.