(This is the seventh chapter in a rather long series I have written. It will stand on it's own but there will be better context if you read all the previous chapters. Enjoy and please comment and share!)
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Chris woke alone in the giant bed to the savory odor of frying bacon. His stomach grumbled, empty for the past twenty-four hours, and bid him to get out of bed in search of the origin of the delicious smell. He threw off the covers and moved quickly, too quickly for the wounds he forgot about on his back. He screamed obscenities and his eyes misted up.
'How could I have forgotten about last night?' he thought. Remembering the copious amounts of rum he imbibed, he figured out why. He eased out of bed, sore and aching, hobbling towards the kitchen. Her flat was pretty big, the entire second floor of a three-floor apartment building. Her bedroom was at the end of a long hall, next to it on the left side was the door to the bathroom that he had heard them running water in the night before. There were a few more rooms on the right side, closed doors, and then the hall opened up into a very large eat-in kitchen and open living room. The cupboards were white with glass fronts that revealed their contents. All of her plates were all different colors, her kitchen appliances matching the rainbow theme. In the center was an island that doubled as a breakfast bar.
He was greeted first by Johnny as he sipped his coffee, checking websites on Sarah's computer. Sarah was at the stove wearing only a tight t-shirt and her sexy black panties as she flipped sizzling bacon in the pan.
"Morning man," Johnny greeted, "Want a cup of coffee?"
Chris shook his head, coffee would have been a bad choice on such an empty stomach. "Fuck, what time is it?" Chris asked.
"Ten thirty," Johnny said, not gazing up from his work on the computer.
"Shit! I'm so late for school!" The young man said, starting to panic.
"Relax," Sarah said reassuringly. "I already called your school, pretended to be your mom, told them you had food poisoning from dinner out at Renaissance Bistro," she said, throwing a rival restaurant under the bus. Chris chuckled and then groaned, the pain in his back erupting with the effort of it all. He felt better overall, the nearly twelve hours of sleep doing him some good. He came up behind Sarah and spied on her as she cooked. The fat in the pan popped and she jumped out of the way of the hot grease droplet. She pulled the nearly crispy bacon out of the pan with tongs, transferring it to a paper towel-lined plate.
"You know you could have cooked that bacon in the oven and not had all that splatter. This one woman taught me how to do it. You could learn a lot from her," he joked referring to what she had taught him on his first day at the Black Bear.
"Yes, but if I did that, I couldn't do this," she said cracking half a dozen eggs into the pan with the rendered fat. The eggs sizzled wildly and Chris actually moaned aloud. She seasoned the eggs with salt and pepper and with a flick of the wrist, flipped the whole mass without breaking any of the yolks. She turned off the gas and let the heat of the pan continue cooking the eggs gently. Chris' stomach growled noisily, grabbing the attention of the other two in the kitchen.
"I'm starving!" he groaned as the others stared. "I didn't eat lunch and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep dinner down, so I didn't even bother trying. Then I drank a shit-load of rum and slept!" he said, justifying his belly's racket.
"Why don't you pull the fruit salad out of the fridge and some bread out for toast," she suggested. The fruit salad looked fresh and delicious; ruby-red strawberries, juicy pieces of melon and the scent of zesty ginger. The bread was thick-cut and full of whole oats and seeds. He put four slices into the toaster and got out some butter and jam he had spotted in the refrigerator door. When the toasted bread popped up, he smeared it with butter, pressed the buttered sides together into two portions and cut them in half, placing them on two of the plates Sarah was setting up. Four more pieces went in the toaster as he helped Sarah clear away some of the cooking dishes. They sat at bar stools at the island in her kitchen. Chris munched happily on his four slices of toast, slathered jam on two, using the other slices to make a rather large sandwich. He loaded up on fresh fruit, the ginger helping to calm his stomach after the sudden onslaught of food. Johnny and Sarah merely watched and laughed as he vacuumed up the contents of his plate.
"How are you feeling?" Sarah asked.
"Physically or emotionally?" he asked, not waiting for an answer, "Bruised and broken." Johnny put a comforting hand on his shoulder, avoiding any sore spots. It meant a lot to Chris that he was not alone in all this, that he had camaraderie with Johnny.
