Chapter 12
February, 2024
Jeff
“Oh my God.”
Even through a closed door, it sounded as if Sandra was having an orgasm.
I pushed aside my sushi that I’d only just started eating, wiped my lips, and wandered over to investigate. I knocked. “Is it safe to come in there?”
She laughed. “I don’t know about that. This sauce gets everywhere.”
Intrigued, I opened the door. Sandra sat at her desk, on which lay a sub on a torn paper bag. I grinned. “You don’t even want to know what you sounded like just now.”
She chuckled, removing sauce from her lips with a paper tissue. “Sorry. It’s just that this tastes so good.”
“What happened to your usual box of salad and a piece of fruit?” Sandra was definitely a creature of habit. I swear she’d eaten the same lunch every day for the past five years.
“I needed to grab a few things from CVS, and as I was walking back to the office, I passed that Tesla charging station on Holger Way. You know the one, right?”
I nodded.
“Well, there’s a food truck in the parking lot, and I’d never seen it before, so I went to take a look. The sign said B’s NY-Style Italian Subs .”
I stilled. “New York-style? Really?” My mouth watered.
She chuckled. “Yeah, I thought that might interest you.” She picked up a leaflet and held it out to me. “That’s what’s on offer.”
I took it and glanced at it, noting with amusement how she went right back to her sub. “So what did you get?”
“Meatball Parmigiana,” she mumbled, her mouth full. Sandra rolled her eyes. “God, this is so good.”
“It must be. You’ve said that twice already.”
She swallowed. “I may never go back to salads again.”
I scanned the list, and holy fuck, I was drooling. “Chicken cutlet Parmigiana, Chicken and pesto, prosciutto, caprese, mozzarella…” I stilled again. “Oh my God. Muffuletta. They’ve got muffuletta.”
“What is that?”
“Fennel salami, Italian garlic salami, provolone…” That took me back. I smiled. “Enjoy your sub, or what’s left of it. I’m going for a walk.”
Sandra laughed. “Gee, I wonder where you could be going.”
I went into my office, grabbed my coat from its hanger in my private bathroom, and headed out.
The temperature was chilly as I turned right onto North First Street, walking briskly toward the charging station parking lot, my mouth drooling at the thought of New York-style subs in San Jose. Every time I went back to New York for a family visit, I made the trip to Brooklyn, mostly to remind myself where I came from, but also to find something delicious to eat.
It was easy to spot the white food truck with its colorful sign, and laminated images of Italian sandwiches full of meat, cheese, lettuce, tomatoes… The line of people waiting to be served told me word had already gotten around. I took my place in the queue and waited, scanning the menu board, trying to decide which sub to choose.
I was spoiled for choice.
Two young men worked inside the truck, visible from the waist up. One was tall and clean-shaven, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, and a smile for every customer. But once I’d glanced at the other shorter guy, I only had eyes for him.
His dark curly hair was in contrast to the golden hue of his skin that spoke of the warmth of endless summers, kissed by the sun. His eyes were as dark as the night sky, and his beard gave his face a look of rugged masculinity, his mustache adding a sense of maturity that belied the youthful roundness lingering in his cheeks.
What captured my attention was the way he moved, a subtle grace in his actions I recognized immediately. Then it was easy to spot the trace of softness in his shoulders, the gentle curve at his waist. His body didn’t match the ruggedness of his face, but the contrast had me mesmerized, a balance between who he’d been and who he was on his way to becoming.
I always had an eye for a gorgeous guy, but this one? I was lost in him, drawn to him, I yearned to hear his voice… And I’d never reacted so fast to a guy in my life.
When I reached the front of the line, I gave him a warm smile. “This is a welcome surprise. I hope business is brisk for you.”
He returned my smile. “I think we’ve picked a great spot. What can I get you?”
His voice was a delight, low and soft.
“The Muffuletta hero, please.”
He nodded, and grabbed a long seeded roll. “The olive tapenade is homemade.”
“Excellent. I used to buy Muffuletta from this great little deli in New York.”
He widened his eyes. “Oh my God. You might have visited my granddad’s place. He had a deli in the Bronx.”
“Dino’s?” I suggested with a smile.
He gaped. “How did you—”
I laughed. “I’ve lost count of how many Italian delis I’ve visited in New York that are called Dino’s.” I grinned. “Besides, do you know what the odds would be?”
“Granddad’s place was in Arthur Avenue, in Little Italy.”
“And my favorite deli was in Bensonhurst in Brooklyn.” I sniffed. “Do you have dill pickles? I used to eat them like candy.”
He chuckled. “Of course. You want a side of them?”
“Sure.” I watched as he layered the ingredients on the sliced roll, then held a knife against one side as he closed it. He wrapped it in paper before sliding it into a bag. “That’ll be twenty-two dollars.”
I handed over the bills, and he passed the hero to me. Our fingers brushed, and his breathing caught.
My heart was pounding a little too.
“I might be able to put some business your way,” I told him. “If you give me a few leaflets, I’ll leave them around.”
His face glowed. “That’d be great, Mr.—”
“Call me Jeff.” I looked him in the eye. “And you are?”
“Brandon.”
Someone behind me coughed, and I realized I was taking way too long.
I flashed Brandon a smile. “I’ll be seeing you again.” Then I hurried back to the office, unable to keep my thoughts from focusing on the gorgeous guy with the dark eyes and soft voice.
Two things were certain. I wasn’t going to be having sushi for lunch anymore, and I’d probably need to work out a lot to keep the inches from piling on my waistline.
March
I closed the office door behind me, just as the cleaners arrived and started work. I was the last to leave, a regular occurrence, and as usual my stomach was telling me I needed to eat.
I wonder if Brandon is still there? More importantly, does he have something I can snack on until I get home for dinner?
I gave a cheerful nod to the security guard as I passed him in the lobby. The traffic was still heavy as I stepped onto the street, my coat over one arm, my messenger bag on my shoulder. As I drew closer to the food truck, I realized the shutters had already been lowered.
Damn it, I’ve missed him.
Then the door at the rear end opened and Brandon got out, a trash bag in one hand. He walked over to a nearby dumpster and disposed of it.
I called out as I approached. “You’re working late tonight.”
He turned and smiled. “Hey. So are you, apparently.” He climbed back into the truck.
I wandered over to stand in the doorway, peering inside. “So this is where all the magic happens.”
He laughed. “Come on up, I’ll give you the tour. It should last all of two seconds.”
“If you’re sure I won’t be in the way.”
Brandon gave me a warm smile. “I’m done for the day, so you won’t be.”
I climbed the metal steps into the truck. “It’s really clean in here.” I could smell disinfectant, and every surface was devoid of clutter or utensils.
“It has to be. I’ve had a few surprise inspections.” Brandon indicated the left hand side. “Okay, so here you have the fryer, the griddle, the range…Those sinks are for the dishes, and that one right at the end is for washing hands.”
“So the truck has its own water supply?”
He nodded. “I’m also hooked up to a local water source, but that’s just for if the tanks run dry. The only thing it doesn’t have is a restroom. That’s why I always park near someplace that has one. On the right we have the deli prep area, at the end there’s the fridge, and in between there’s the prep counter. You’ve seen the serving hatch loads of times.” He cocked his head to one side. “Well? How did your idea work out?”
I beamed. “They didn’t leave a crumb.” I’d ordered two platters of subs for my conference, and everyone had raved about them.
“Fantastic. By the way, I need to thank you. Business is booming. In fact, I think it’s tripled this month.”
A month during which I’d had a conversation with Brandon six days out of seven. Sometimes it was only a few words, and at other times it was longer, especially when I did my late afternoon run which happened to go past his truck. Brandon had taken to giving me a bottle of water at the end of it, and we’d chat during the lull falling between his lunchtime rush period and the wave of people who flocked to the truck on their way out of work.
“Glad I could help. We business owners need to stick together and help each other out, right?”
I’d gotten to know a bit more about him. I knew he’d moved to California with his family, like I’d done all those years ago. I knew his family was conservative and had put up a lot of opposition to his plans, but his grandfather had supported him, providing him with the capitol to start up his own business—and the funds he needed for his surgeries, not that he’d come right out and told me that last part. I’d read between the lines.
Brandon had seemed a little wary at first, but it hadn’t taken long for him to realize he was safe with me.
That was when the flirting started, mostly innuendo and coquettish glances, but it didn’t let up.
I didn’t want it to. Not that I’d make a move on him. I was enjoying the banter, the blossoming attraction, the exchanges that hinted there might be more to come.
Brandon opened the fridge. “I’ve got some great mortadella. You need to try this. It’s got pistachio in it, and I know how much you love pistachio.” He removed some bologna, peeled back its wrapping, and cut off a chunk.
“Looks great,” I murmured.
Brandon rewrapped it, then took a step toward me. He held out the tasty morsel, guiding it to my lips. “Taste it.” His eyes gleamed in the strip lights above our heads.
I opened my mouth and he slid it over my tongue, his fingertip brushing my lower lip. I bit off a piece of the bologna, then grasped his wrist, keeping him there. When I’d swallowed, I couldn’t hold back a moment longer. I sucked on his index finger, flicking it.
Brandon’s breathing quickened, and his pupils enlarged. “Oh God,” he whispered.
I pulled his finger free and looked him in the eye. “If this isn’t what you want, say so now.”
He grinned. “Are you kidding? I’ve been dreaming of this ever since I first laid eyes on you. There you were in that dark blue suit, and God, you smelled good.” He sniffed. “You took a shower after your run today, didn’t you? I can smell citrus.”
“The benefits of having a private bathroom.” I gave him an inquisitive glance. “You get to choose what happens next.”
Brandon smiled. “In that case…” He pushed past me, closed the door, and locked it.