Coming Home - M.J. O'Shea Page 0,1

ever wanted to go again.

Home.

He cursed and turned up the windshield wipers to their highest speed. Any more of that bone chilling God-forsaken rain and he’d have to pull over. He was already nearly blinded by the downpour.

“Why didn’t I ever move to California?”

Tally sighed into the darkness of his car.

“Why am I talking to myself is a better question. I’m already going freaking nuts, and I’m not even there yet.”

His car chose that moment to make a scary choking noise and shudder violently. It wobbled for a few minutes between life and death before finally settling itself in the world of the living — at least for the moment. He petted the steering wheel like it was the neck of some skittish prize horse.

Please don’t die, baby girl. I promise to take good care of you from now on if you just get me there.

Walking the last fifteen miles to town at midnight in the middle of a storm appealed to Tally about as much as sleeping in his car on the side of the road — and most likely getting arrested for it if his usual luck held out. Tally’s usual luck was nothing but bad, and that bad had taken a turn for complete and total shit in the past few weeks.

“Hey, Tally, I’m moving tables fifty nine and sixty into your section starting tonight. Shelley’s having a hard time keeping up.” His manager’s voice was smug. The bastard didn’t like Tally much and he knew it. He didn’t like that Tally was gay, liked it even less when Tally refused to give him head for a four dollar an hour raise.

“Craig, that’s not fair. Shelley already has four less tables than me.”

His manager smirked at him. “Well, then I guess this will be an even better opportunity for you to make that extra money you were in my office whining about last week.”

Tally gritted his teeth together. He couldn’t afford to lose his job because his manager was a prick.

“Fine. Tables fifty-nine and sixty.”

Craig’s smirk grew more pronounced. “Table fifty-nine is a birthday party. Ten plates.”

Aw screw you, Craig.

Tally bit his lip to keep it from coming out.

The gig at The Bay Room, an expensive seafood place on the pier, had been his longest so far. He hated coming home every night smelling like beer batter and garlic but the tips were great. He didn’t want to lose it like he had all the rest of them.

Tally peered around the corner of the servers’ station to take a look at the party at table fifty-nine. Women. All women. He sighed. Hopefully they’d be tipsy enough to leave a decent tip.

“Hey, ladies, can I get you started with some drinks tonight?”

“I’ll take a drink of him,” one of them stage whispered.

Tally pretended not to hear. He took their drink orders and promised them he’d be back.

When Tally returned to pass out the drinks, the brunette in the corner with the loud whisper leaned back and looked up at him.

“Hey, handsome, do you recommend the steak? I want something juicy.”

Tally gritted his teeth. “The steak is great paired with our Australian lobster tail.” He tried to ignore the hand curled around his hamstring.

“I’ll take that. I love a nice...lobster tail.” Her hand crept higher. Tally backed away quickly and moved on to the next woman at the table.

By the time he returned with their salads, the ladies had each had another round of drinks. He started on the opposite end of the table. He dreaded going near the groper again. At last, though, all of the other salads were gone. He had no choice.

As he was leaning over to place her salad on the table, he felt a hand grab on to his ass and squeeze. Hard. There was no way he could pretend he didn’t feel it. The other women twittered behind their hands, but Tally had had enough.

Not okay.

He’d been groped, pinched, propositioned and just about everything else more times than he could count. Apparently for him, it was one time too many.

The plate in his hand started tipping. He couldn’t seem help it. Oh well, it was just too bad. The woman let out a blood curdling scream when her lap was all of a sudden filled with Caesar salad.

“Sorry,” Tally muttered with a small smile.

It was hard to hold in the laugh. Craig was rushing towards him, face beet red. Tally could almost see the steam coming off of him.

Less than ten minutes later