Page 65 of Embers Glow After the Fire

“I’m Dillon.” The host lays the menus on the table.

“Of course you are doll.’’ Perry jests,

“Your server will be right with you gentlemen.” He winks and struts back to his podium.

“Behave yourself,” Matthew chuckles.

“This place is hilarious. Are they all supposed to be the gayest little lobstermen?” Perry’s eyes dart at each of the sparkly neon staff.

“It’s a vibe.” Matthew focuses on the abstract pastel drawing of a rainbow trout, framed in lime green acrylic and hung on the wall behind their table. “Honestly—I think I like it.”

“Of course you do, babe.” Perry smirks.

“Hi boys. I’m Weston, I’ll be your server. Can I get you drinks to start?” The slinky fisher-twink runs his pinky finger along the edge of the table and pops a hip.

Perry scans the menu. “Sweet tea.” He hums.

“Same for me.” Matthew smiles.

”Perfect. I’ll be right back with those. We’re supposed to tell you about the sea bass special, but I recommend the oyster platter.” Weston winks

”Thank you.” Perry wrinkles his nose at the suggestion.

Weston swishes toward the bar.

The menu is a fusion of Mediterranean recipes with southern American soul food flair. Each dish incorporates the name of a south European island with proteins like catfish, bass and bream.

“This is interesting.” Perry chews his cheek while browsing the selections.

“The signature Cypriot salad with grilled catfish sounds nice.” Matthew sets his menu aside.

“Mmm…I think so too.” Perry piles his on top. “Have you spoken to Dennis and Robbie?”

“Yes. Both, but Robbie and I chat a little every day.” Matthew’s eyes float around the dining room.

“How is he doing?” Perry inquires.

“He’s definitely struggling with what happened, but we’ve talked about it. That asshole got what was coming to him.” Matthew sweeps fingers down his neck. It still burns, though the bruises there have healed.

“And Brendon?” Perry adds.

Weston appears with two sweet teas, clipped with lemon slices in sugared rimmed glasses and turquoise acrylic straws.

“Two Cypriot salads.” Perry orders.

“Great choice.” The waiter pulls a digital tablet from the chest pocket of his glossy yellow overalls and taps in the order. “Those will be up soon.” He smiles. “Anything else?” He leans on the back of Matthew’s booth.

“Not right now, thank you.” Perry dismisses the boy.

Weston twirls away to check on another table.

“Brendon is having a hard time.” Matthew winces. “He’s gone a bit quiet on me. He’s spiraling with guilt.”

“Hmm.” Perry pulls a sip of tea through his straw. “He’s not at fault for what happened.” He gulps.

“He feels terrible for leading Christian to the cabin. The guy had been tracing his phone.” Matthew stirs the lemon slice floating in his glass with the straw. “He keeps telling me he shouldn’t have gone. I haven’t had any luck convincing him he’s not at fault but remind him we wouldn’t have met if he wasn’t there.”

Perry runs his thumb over the sugared rim and pinches the crystals into his drink.

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