1 Chapter 1

It was a dark and stormy night, the kind of night Kellan would have liked to spend at home with a cup of tea and some Zen video gaming, or with Matt. Yet here he was at work, as usual, thinking about Matt’s dimpled smile, or his warm tight hugs, or the way he occasionally tried to brush his fawn-brown hair behind his ears, even though he hadn’t had hair that long since their second year of culinary school. There were so many adorable and admirable things about Matt, and while Kellan loved doting on his boyfriend, their conflicting schedules meant they could only see each other every few days, which wasn’t nearly enough in Kellan’s opinion.

It didn’t help that there weren’t many customers at the restaurant that night, so Kellan barely had anything to do to distract himself. He was the prep cook at Besha, a Moroccan restaurant on the outskirts of Buffalo, New York. It was popular in tourist season and with some local regulars, but now that it was October, and a rainy one at that, not many people were venturing out. A third of the orders they had received that day were for delivery. Kellan had kept mildly busy with little tasks, like measuring out servings of grain he might have to cook or cleaning vegetables he might have to chop. The best part of the kitchen, however, was the ever-present smell of spices. Even when Kellan went home sweaty and exhausted, he would also take home the scent of those spices. They reminded him of his grandmother, who was Turkish and insisted that he learn to cook as a boy, “Lest he wind up unmarried and starving.” He didn’t have to worry about that with Matt. They were both happy to cook for each other.

As Kellan cleaned a bunch of carrots, he thought about the way Kellan smelled. They had graduated from the same school the same year, having met at orientation, but Matt went on to be a baker. Matt usually worked until one in the afternoon and Kellan had to be at Besha before it opened at noon, so the only times they could see each other were the mornings of Matt’s days off and Monday evenings, when Besha was closed. Their Monday meet-ups were Kellan’s favorite, because Matt would come in smelling like cinnamon and chocolate and warm bread. If they felt like cooking dinner, Kellan would add to that with the smell of roasted garlic and cumin and smoked paprika.

Thunder rumbled outside, making Kellan pine for Matt even more. It was Sunday evening. If this had happened a day later he and Matt could have spent the evening together, probably at Kellan’s place so they wouldn’t be bothered by Matt’s housemates. Though they both loved cooking, on nights like this they might order in instead and relax. No dishes to clean or leftovers to find containers for, only the two of them enjoying each other’s company as they watched the lightning through Kellan’s bedroom window. Kellan sighed. He was probably the only person who looked forward to Mondays.

There was an hour left until the restaurant closed, and Kellan was tempted to ask his boss if he could simply prepare enough food for a handful of customers then leave. It didn’t seem as though they would be getting many more tonight. There might even be time to call Matt before Matt passed out for the night. He decided to finish chopping the carrots, then go find Omar to ask him.

It was Omar who came to find him instead. Kellan opened his mouth to ask about taking off, but the look on Omar’s face gave him pause. “What’s wrong?” Kellan asked.

“It’s your car,” Omar said, his rumbling Arabic accent muted by his apologetic tone. “Someone broke into it.”

“What?” Kellan’s chest clenched as he ran through a list of everything he had left in his car. A change of clothes, his satchel, a phone charger, empty soda bottles he had been meaning to recycle, and of course the stereo system, but it wasn’t exactly the prime target for a robbery. It was a seven-year old car, an affordable Mazda he bought a couple years back after his old junker died for good. So far this car had treated him well. Kellan hated to think that someone had smashed its windows and possibly torn out its stereo. What’s worse was his favorite mix CD was in that stereo.

Omar drooped his shoulders and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. A customer just came in and reported it. They said they pulled up and saw someone in a raincoat leaning through the broken window. They honked at the thief, but whoever it was grabbed your bag and ran off with it.”

Some of the tension in Kellan’s body relaxed. “Well, the good news is my phone and wallet are in my jacket over there. All I had in that bag was my day planner and some, um, miscellany.” He had a travel bottle of lube and some condoms in the interior pocket of the bag, ready to go in case he and Matt had time for a spontaneous rendezvous. As for the day planner, that was unfortunate, but he had most of his appointments saved in the calendar of his phone so he would get a reminder alarm about them. He imagined the look on the thief’s face when they realized how worthless that bag ultimately was.