Date: Sun, 3 Aug 2008 17:56:54 -0700 (PDT) From: T. Chase McPhee Subject: LETS MAKE MATT 01 - (A new love story with friendly, authoritarian flavor) The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, in towns, cities, nor governmental areas, which the story is stages. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offences you, then you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most state and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such. Sexual safety matters. This is fiction. Use protection, in real life. LETS MAKE MATT 01 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee % "I can't believe it!" Swinging his head away from the customer in front of him at the deli counter, three patrons to the left, Matt exclaims, "Sal? Sal Barajas, from Alstadt?" He spoke of the university the two roomed together. Dropping the pound of sliced ham on the scale, Matt wipes the residue on his white butcher apron, offering it up to Sal. "It's Salvador now," Sal replied, holding onto Matt's hand longer than necessary. >From the sidelines, a grumpy guy aged about forty, complains, "This college reunion stuff is all nice'n'dandy, but you want to pack up my meat before my old lady starts tootin' the horn?" Matt's tongue pressed against his cheek as Salvador unleashed Matt's hand. From frat days he knew Salvador didn't take shit from anybody. "Sal... I mean Salvador... really... Mr. Mackie didn't mean anything..." Stepping out of line he advanced to the front of the deli queue. "In a hurry huh?" Salvador said, casing the gent like he was a six foot tall piece of sculpture. "Salvador, I'm sure Mr. Mackie didn't mean anything...." Then to Mackie, Matt hands the wrapped parcel of Black Forest ham, "Here you go Mr. Mackie... on the house." His attention derailed, Mackie telling Matt, "You wash up after you touched this Puerta-rican's hand?" Two other patrons were taking this all in stride, as if watching two contestants pitted against each other. If not for the small town deli, the scene could be much different. On a Saturday afternoon, the population of two hundred and seventy-four were mostly finishing up their round of little league or headed to the homefront for their evening supper, a few stragglers picking up odds and ends at the end of a long, sunny day. "Got something against Puerto Ricans?" Salvador asked snidely, his pecs in Mackie's breathing space. Matt interjects, "But Sal... I mean Salvador... you're not Puerto Rican." "Doesn't matter. You're all the same," Mackie slung at Salvador. "Got a back door?" Salvador asks Matt. "Um... yeah..." "Just give me an excuse to deposit your ass in the dumpster," Mackie threatened Salvador, knowing the Brazilian wanted to take this outside. Backing away, her back plastered against the milk refrigeration case, Salvador spots the five or six year old boy clinging to his mother's arms. Matt eased his stance when Salvador smiled, saying to Mackie, "You're not worth it." "Chicken," he heard Mackie say as he grabbed his package of ham, muttering to Matt, "Too bad you're the only deli joint in town." He made a quick exit. "Thanks for your business, Mr. Mackie," Matt yelled after him. Turning around, Matt saw his former high school classmate dropping from his six foot, two inch height to one knee. Smiling, the killer one which made Matt melt each time he saw it, he watched Salavador communicating with the five year old. Their conversation already in progress, Salvador inquires, "So Billy, which kind of ice cream is your favorite?" Billy looked up at his mom, her face appearing upside down. "Answer the man, Billy," she said this time, instead of speaking for Billy when she revealed his name. Instead of calling it by name, he pointed to the case, his tiny finger touching the cold glass, "That one!" Matt was in heaven, watching Salvador's broad shoulders sway towards the refrigerated case, his shirt stretching over his back, pulling at the waist, untucking it a bit as he retreived a package of popsicles. "What's your favorite?" Salvador asks. Shrugging his shoulders, Billy didn't give answer. Busting open an end of the box, Salvador pulls out a green one saying, "The green ones are my favorite." Then he turned the end of the box towards Billy, encouraging, "Go ahead. Take yours." Again Billy returned his gaze to the upside down face. Reiterating what Salvador had rendered, she gave permission, "Go ahead Billy," adding, "and don't forget to thank the man." "Thank you Sabadoor," Billy replied. "Close enough," Salvador returned with a smile. Lifting himself off the floor, Salvador said to Billy's mother, "On the house," handing her the box. Then, "Allow me," he placed the red shopping basket on the counter next to the register. She too thanked Salvador from the bottom of her heart. "Anything from `under the glass'?" Matt asked her about goods from the meat and cheese counter, before starting to check her out. While his mom shopped, Salvador and Billy had a good conversation, the subject containing popsicles, school and other events which kept the small town rolling on. "Not this week I'm afraid," Billy's mom told Matt. Eavesdropping, his ears attuned to two conversations, Salvador heard Matt say, "Your husband still laid up?" Ears pricked, Salvador learned through the woman, "Still. If this keeps up I don't know how we're going to swing it with the mortage and..." she paused to look at her dear son. Matt then announces, "That'll be eighteen thirty-six." "Doesn't sound right," Billy's mom says to Matt, looking over the top of each brown paper bag. "Well we've got a special this week. Buy any two adult foods and kid's food goes free!" Paying more attention to the checkout, Salvador smiled, seeing Matt flash his brighty-whities. "I know you're pulling a fast one on me Matthew." However she conceded, "I'm keeping tally. When my John gets back to work I'm coming here and paying you back every penny!" Standing from his crouched, `little people' status, Salvador reaches down into his front right pocket, withdrawing a wad of green. "I missed going to church this Sunday, so let me kick in my goodwill offering." "Wow Mommy!" Billy exclaimed, clinging to his mother's arm, "Looka' all the money!" No matter how Billy's mom protested, Salvador wouldn't back down. Matt finally intervened, "You might as well give up Mrs. Collins. When Salvador sets his mind towards something he usually gets his way!" "Alright," she gave in, "maybe just this once." Matt and Salvador laughed their asses off when Billy said to his mom, "Don't forget to thank the man!" When Billy's mom gave Salvador a hug, followed by Billy, neither noticed Matt slipping away from the counter and depositing two more packages of pops in amongst her groceries. Leaving with Billy attached to her hand, dragged behind her, Mrs. Collins didn't see Salvador tuck a ten into Billy's pants pocket. Billy, all eyes, said, "Thanks Sabadoor!" The two watching mom and son walk away, Salvador asks Matt, "They walk here?" "They're conservative on everything, especially the way the price of gas is headed." "Maybe I should offer a ride?" It's then Matt notices the only vehicle left in the deli parking lot, the 2008 Rubicon Wrangler sitting just outside the door. Due to the economy of the area, it's a dead giveaway it doesn't belong to anyone in these parts. "Um, I'd say you've done enough charity giving for one day." Matt clicks to the lock on the glass framed door, flipping the sign around, `open' facing himself. Smiling, Salvador gets a wicked thought. Balling Matt's apron, shirt underneath it, up in his fist, he physically moves the deli-man across the floor, plastering him up against the wall next to a supply closet. "You cutting an order for me, `boy'?" "No, I..." Before Matt could get out his reply, Salvador's arms are woven between Matt's arms and bod, his lips silencing Matt's explanation. As they break off their sweet necking, Matt says, "Um, let me drop the blinds." Right away Salvador picks up on it, rendering, "You in the closet?" "Hey, you don't know the folks around here. They get wind of me being gay and I might as well put pop's business up for sale!" Salvador watched as Matt eluded his arms and began dropping each blind in succession, tilting each one closed. Standing there, leaning an elbow on the deli counter, legs crossed, arms folded under his pecs, Salvador says sarcastically, "I guess we know where Mackie stands on this one!" "Mackie is right!" Matt says. "If he ever found out... he's related to half the town." "Oh really? Got any hot looking relatives?" "Sal..." "Salvador." "Whatever... I'm not joking. We're talking about my livelihood here," Matt said worriedly, drawing the last blind down. As he turned, Salvador was right there to accept him into open arms. With a hint in his voice he asks, "I think you mentioned your folks had an apartment upstairs?" Matt smiled. "I've got to close out the cash and..." "You can do it later," Salvador hinted, his hand juggling Matt's balls through his pants. "Mmmmm," Matt said, followed by a long sigh when Salvador gave a bit of a squeeze. "I... suppose... I could... wait..." Turning Matt around, facing the back of the store, Salvador replies, "Maybe you can but I can't." "It's this way," Matt replied, leading the way to the back, left corner of the deli, passing three aisles on the way. As they traisped up the stairs, Salvador smiled, seeing Matt's butt sway from side to side. He smiled even a bigger one when Matt commented, "It's so good to see you." "Good to see you too!" Salvador happily replied. "So what brings you out to the sticks?" Matt asks, passing by the refrigerator in the small kitchen, reaching in for two bottles of beer. Turning back around, Salvador gave hint. % "Where the hell is Salvador?" All Miguel Erazos' secretary could think of is, `He's on the warpath again - so what else is new?' "Stew..." "Stewart," Stewart emphasized. Huffing in an exhale, Erazos reorganized his thoughts, "Stewart... find Salvador and when you do, tell him he's in big trouble by me!" As honery as Salvador would be, Stewart renders, "You know he's not going to go for it?" He talked big, but Miguel sided with Stewart, "Be nice about it. You know Salvador as well as I do. Smooth things over with him, but make it a point to mention he has to be back in the city by Tuesday?" Stewart didn't say it, but thought it. Whipping out his cell phone, he smiled upon thinking about their college days. He dummied up when Salvador's message service picked up. However he was as cool as ice when speaking, "You know the drill... Erazos is being a pain in the ass. You're gonna like this... Miguel's exact words were, `be back in the city by Tuesday'?" He paused, just knowing Salvador would be going ballistic with being bothered by trivial matters while off on his five day vacation, his excursion out to the pacific northwest to visit his old college pal, same one they both had common ties to. He finished off with, "Oh and I forgot. Tell Matt I said hello!" He slapped the phone back together, shoving it in the pec pocket of his white shirt. He smiled thinking how doubly `moved', towards the bad, when Salvador listened to the message, the tone of voice he used to make Miguel sound annoyed. "I'm on my way downtown," Miguel said, coming out of his office. Adjusting his jacket to fit his five foot-ten inch frame he asks, "Did you track down Salvador?" Blatantly Stewart struck back with, "Cut him a break. The guy works like a dog. He deserves more than five lousy days vacation as it is and `no' I didn't speak with Salvador." "Well um.." Miguel cleared his throat. In several decibels lower he says, "When you `do' speak with Salvador make sure you give him the message and tell him...." "I'll tell him. You better get going?" Looking to his watch, Miguel grabbed the prepared folder from Stewart's desk and hightailed it out of there. % 2B continued... Copyright 2008 T. Chase McPhee This story may not be sold, nor made part of any collection without prior written permission, by the author.