Copyright © 2011 by Eviant
“Lucas, get in here.”
Luke Small wrinkled his nose at the cigarette smoke wafting from his father's office and steeled himself for the inevitable confrontation. His father, Bruce, had opened the diner, Small's Landing, or just the Landing for short, soon after being discharged from the Marine's.
“Good morning, Dad.”
“Did you get the silverware rolled last night like I asked?” Bruce never bothered with pleasantries, or really, to say anything pleasant at all.
“You know I didn't. You had me doing inventory of the freezer until midnight and then kicked me out so you could go to the bar.” Manny, the chef, had offered to do the freezer inventory since that was part of his job, but Bruce would have none of it.
“How the hell do you think you're going to run this place one day if you can't even roll the damn silverware? I've always known you were a good for nothing little fag. Thank God I didn't fork out the money for you to go to college.” Bruce's speech was punctuated by streams of smoke coming out of his nose. With his red, angry face, it likened him to a cartoon character.
“For the last time, Dad, I'm not gay. And if you would give me a key, this wouldn't be an issue.” Luke tried not to let his father see how the constant rejection stung. His father had made the 'fag' accusation since he was a teen; so much so that Luke started to believe it and experimented with guys. While he enjoyed men, he was definitely preferential to women. Unfortunately, despite his deep baritone voice, his height, dimples and baby face made him look like a stereotypical twink. This made finding a man's company easy, but women tended to assume that he was friend material only. Not that he had many friends.