Unwanted Attention

by Feral Sephrian

  Unwanted Attention

  By Feral Sephrian

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 Feral Sephrian

  ISBN 9781634867665

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Unwanted Attention

  By Feral Sephrian

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  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.

  Omar allowed Kellan to go make a report to the police. Kellan was more concerned about the rain getting into his car, so after he made the call he took a trash bag and some duct tape to patch up the hole until he could get it to the shop. He also texted Matt. Matt had to be up at four in the morning for work, so he was usually asleep by now, but he put his phone on silent so Kellan could text him anytime.

  Omfg, someone broke into my fuggin car in the restaurant parking lot. They didn’t steal anything important, but still, grrrr.

  To Kellan’s surprise, Matt replied within a minute. :O Oh no! Your poor car is probably soaked inside now, huh? Poor Kel. Want me to come over with some bath towels?

  Kellan’s heart fluttered. That was Matt in a nutshell. He could always tell what upset Kellan most about any unpleasant situation and knew how to make that situation better. No, it’s fine. You should be asleep. Talk to you tomorrow, okay?

  Mkay. Don’t worry, I passed out on the couch earlier and I just finished getting ready for actual bed. Glad I was able to get your text, but sorry to hear the bad news. Let me know if you need anything. Love you.

  Kellan sighed. Even if Matt didn’t have to be up for work, Kellan didn’t want him coming out here in this rain anyway. Kellan got as soaked as his back seat while he tried to tape the bag o
ver the hole, despite having his hood up and the drawstring pulled as tight as possible. Whoever it was hadn’t had any mercy with the window. Only a few pieces of glass remained stuck valiantly to the frame. Everything else was scattered over the seats or the asphalt. By the time Kellan had cleaned up, every piece of exposed fabric in his clothes was stuck to his body.

  The police came, took Kellan’s and Omar’s statements, then checked the CCTV footage of the parking lot’s camera. As the customers had said, the thief was wearing a long raincoat with the hood pulled up. Because of this and the poor quality of the video, it was hard to make out their features. Kellan cringed at the sight of the thief taking something from their pocket and using it to smash open the window.

  “Probably some teen looking to make a quick steal,” one of the police officers said. “I guess they hoped you had a laptop in that bag or something.”

  “No, nothing like that, thank God.” Kellan sighed. “You don’t have enough to find this guy, do you?”

  The officer shook his head. “Afraid not. If there are any other thefts in the area, maybe we’ll find more clues, but even if they had broken your window with their fist and left some blood behind, the rain would have washed most of it away. We’ll have to hope if they do it again they won’t be so careful.”

  Everyone in Besha was waiting to hear the news, staff and customers alike. Omar simply shook his head and told them all, “Nothing to be done about it, but I will be adding a second, more visible camera to the parking lot for extra safety so this won’t happen again.”

  That was something Kellan hadn’t considered, but he felt guilty about it. He had been so wrapped up in concern for his car and what the thief might have taken that he didn’t think about what this could do to Besha’s reputation. Customers wouldn’t want to come here if they thought their belongings wouldn’t be safe in their cars.

  Kellan was in a sour mood for the rest of the night. He wished he knew who had done this. He’d give that punk a good slap in the face and a punch to the gut. That wasn’t going to happen, though. Chances were this would be just another break-in that everyone would forget about within a few days. He was going to get the window fixed as soon as he could afford it, he would be more careful about leaving things visible in his car, and tomorrow he could lament about his situation to Matt while in the comfort of Matt’s arms. That last thought helped him get through the end of his shift, but despite his attempts to be positive he still shuffled out after closing with a pit of melancholy in his stomach.

  Chapter 2

  True to his nature, Matt came straight from work with a chocolate/vanilla marbled pound cake and a little sealed cup of the strawberry reduction glaze that Kellan loved so much. They both had some errands to run before they met up again that evening, but Kellan appreciated seeing Matt any chance he could. The tight comforting hug Matt gave him in addition to the pound cake was also very welcome.

  “Sorry you had such a crappy night,” Matt said, his voice slightly muffled as he rested his chin on Kellan’s shoulder. He rubbed Kellan’s lower back with one hand. “Are you sure I can’t give you just a little money to help with the repairs?”

  “Nmm-mmm, that’s okay,” Kellan said. He inhaled deeply. Matt smelled as delicious as ever. Today he carried the scents of cinnamon and burnt sugar, of melted chocolate and flaky pastries. There was also the smell of the pound cake, which was warm to the touch. It must have been the last thing Matt made before his shift ended.

  Kellan didn’t have enough money to send his car to the shop for now. His paycheck was coming in at the end of the week, but in the meantime he had reinforced the trash bag over the window with a layer of cardboard covered by another trash bag. At the very least if someone tried to rip it open they would be met with some resistance. Kellan truly was nervous about someone else breaking in, to the point where he had completely cleared the car out except for one decoy bag that could hopefully distract a thief away from the stereo long enough for someone to notice and chase them off. He didn’t tell Matt this. Matt didn’t need to carry this anxiety with him as well.

  “What about money for the bus?” Matt asked. “Can I give you money for the bus? Then you won’t have to worry about anyone else trying to break into your car.”

  Kellan chuckled. Matt always knew. “If you want to be my sugar daddy, you have to at least be making more money than I do.”

  Matt grinned and nodded at the pound cake. “I think I’m already your sugar daddy.”

  Kellan clicked his tongue. “Well, if you really want to be called daddy then you should top more.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Okay, what am I then?”

  “You’re my…” Kellan jumped backward and started to dance. “‘Sugar pie, honey bunch! You know that I love you…’” He sang through as much of “I Can’t Help Myself” by the Four Tops as he could remember. Matt stood with his arms crossed, trying to look unamused, but when Kellan forgot the words and improvised to the tune instead, a smile tugged at the corners of Matt’s mouth. Kellan took Matt’s hands and pulled him into a dance. “You make the best fuckin’ coo-kies,” Kellan sang. “I want to eat them all with whipped cream! Can’t help myself, gonna have to hit up the gym at some point…”

  “Okay, okay,” Matt said through his laughter. “I accept being your sugar pie, but only if you’ll be my honey bunch.” He tilted his head. “Yeah, that works, since I always smell like sugar and pie and your skin is a kind of honey-colored.”

  Kellan smiled. “Aww, does that make this our song? I don’t think we really had an ‘our song’ yet.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Matt gave Kellan a quick sweet kiss. “Okay, honey bunch, gotta run, but I’ll be back in a couple hours. I hope you’re feeling better.”

  “Much better,” Kellan said, stealing another brief kiss in return.

  As Matt headed for the door, he sang under his breath. With one hand on the door handle, he turned and said, “That song is going to be stuck in my head all day now.”

  “Mine too. I think that means it’s going to be a great day.”

  Matt smiled. He blew a parting kiss to Kellan, who pantomimed catching it and clutching it to his chest. When Matt shut the door behind himself, Kellan allowed himself to beam like a lovestruck fool. Sure, life was crappy and people could be assholes, but Matt loved him, and that made everything alright.

  Kellan went out and ran errands of his own. His pantry needed restocking, he wanted a new pair of pajama pants, and he had to replace the bag and day planner that had been stolen. Since Mondays were the only days he technically had to himself, they were generally his Get Shit Done days. He could have spread things out over the week, but that would mean less sleep in the morning before work, and he liked sleep. Furthermore, there was no telling what delays he might come across while out and about, and he didn’t want anything to make him late for work. Instead, weekday mornings were for around-the-house chores, and weekend mornings were for video games.

  Kellan’s phone chimed with a new text message on his way to the mall. He didn’t want to check it while he was driving, but some asshole in a Volvo ran a red light to make a left turn in front of him into the parking lot and he completely forgot about the text as he fumed over selfish drivers as he looked for a space. His phone chimed again on his way to the mall doors. He pulled it out of his pocket to check it and the most recent text caught his eye first.

  ?????

  It was from Matt, as was the previous one. The previous one also had a photo attachment.

  Wtf is this?

  Confused, Kellan opened the attachment. It was a photo of one of those notes Kellan had only ever seen in movies or TV shows where someone was being ransomed, the kind where every letter was cut from a magazine or newspaper headline. The letters spelled out DON’T TRUST THAT FILTHY CHEATER in a haphazard formation.

  Kellan stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at the photo, his lip curled into a bemused sneer. Someone passive-aggressively scooted past him, so
he moved to stand by the wall as he wrote his reply.

  Where did that come from?

  It was in the mailbox when I got home.

  Kellan was about to ask if it could possibly be for one of his other housemates when another text came in.

  Addressed to me.

  Sugar pie, Kellan replied, even if I had enough free time to have an affair, I never would. You’re the only guy who appreciates my eccentricities. You have any idea how hard it is to find a guy who can laugh without losing his boner? DO YOU?

  Kellan gritted his teeth as he awaited Matt’s reply. Perhaps trying to lighten the mood wasn’t the best response, but it all felt like a bad joke. He honestly didn’t have a lot of free time, and the free time he did have he preferred to spend with Matt or being productive. The only other people he interacted with were the friends he met up with on the rare occasion that their schedules all aligned, his coworkers, and other gamers in the multiplayer online games he played sometimes.

  At last, Matt’s answer came in. Aww, honey bunch, I know you’re not the cheating type. I’m more concerned why someone would put this in my mailbox at all.

  Maybe it’s Ollie or Rich playing a prank?

  Eh, I could see Rich maybe getting drunk enough to think it was funny, but he didn’t go out last night.

  Could be one of the neighbor’s kids playing a prank? Y’know, randomly telling people their SO is cheating on them to start drama?

  Maybe. Ugh, sounds like something Chelsie would have done back in the day.

  Chelsie was Matt’s ex-girlfriend. She had been seeing a therapist for a few years, but before that she was an absolute nutcase. Matt met her after he and Kellan started culinary school, and he confided in Kellan a couple months into their relationship that he didn’t think they were meant to be. He had recently come to terms with his pansexuality, but this was back when people were just starting to understand the different between pansexual and bisexual, and Chelsie was of the “bisexuality doesn’t exist” mindset. However, she was also of the “we’re soulmates and if you dumped me I’d kill myself” mindset. If she even got a whiff that Matt was having doubts about them, she would come up with something elaborate to win his sympathy, including a fake pregnancy and pretending her uncle had died to see how he would comfort her. In the latter case, she even convinced her mom to come over and “mourn” with her to sell the act. Eventually it was too much. Matt encouraged her to see a therapist, and when she had made enough progress, he broke up with her. Shortly thereafter, Matt asked Kellan out, and they’d been together ever since.