September 21, 2008

Wiseguys: A Touch of Domestic by Aaron Michaels

Friday afternoon at three, Tony put a hand-lettered sign in the deli window and flipped the switch on the Open sign off.  The buzzing from the red neon stopped as the light winked out, and behind the counter, Carter arched an eyebrow.

"What's up?" he asked.

Tony pulled the iron gate closed across the front of the deli and locked the glass door behind it.  "Closing up early today," he said.

"We got our best crowd coming in yet."

Six was when the summer people left the public park at the lake and headed back to their rooms.  Tony and Carter did a good business early in the morning – lots of sandwiches for the crowd headed out to spend their day at the lake – but they did a good business in the evening too.  All the people who wanted to get a good head start on their day bought the next day's food in the evening.  Then there were the people who just took food back to their rooms instead of hitting the crowded restaurants on the four-block long main drag.  Friday evenings saw some of the best business the deli did all week, not counting Saturday mornings.
"We're taking the weekend off," Tony said. 

Now both eyebrows crept up Carter's forehead.  "Wish you'd have told me," he said, thumping the heavy serving dish of fresh-made lasagne on the counter.

"It'll keep."  Tony untied the plain white apron he wore during work hours and tossed it on a nearby chair.  "We deserve a weekend off, don't you think?"

They hadn't really taken a weekend off since they opened the deli.  Not even after their impromptu vows and wedding night.  They'd gone back to work the next day. 

"We going on vacation?" Carter asked.  One side of his mouth quirked up in a grin.  "I didn't think you knew what that word meant."

Vacation wasn't exactly the word Tony had in mind, but it was close.  "Quit busting my chops," he said, "and help me clean up this stuff."

Closing up and cleaning up came easy by now.  They had a routine, who did what – Carter with the heavy lifting, Tony with tallying up the till.  A half hour later they locked up the back door.  An hour after that they were on the road in Carter's van.

"Gonna tell me where we're heading?" Carter asked.  "Considering, you know, that I'm driving."

"Just stay on this road until I tell you otherwise."

Tony had to work to keep from smiling.  He'd worked hard on this little surprise, and he didn't intend to fuck it up now.

Ten minutes later, Carter asked, "We got the right kind of clothes?"

Tony faked a frown.  "When have you ever cared about clothes?"

"If I'm fucking you, not too much."  Carter looked at him sideways.  "People do that a lot on vacations.  From what I hear."

On fishing trips, too.  Tony's Uncle Sid had fucked long and hard in the room next to theirs every time he'd taken Tony and Carter on his little fishing trips to Jersey back when they'd been kids.  Lots of fucking, no fishing.  Sometimes Tony wondered if his uncle even knew what a fishing pole looked like.

"Doesn't matter where we go," Tony said.  "No way I'm not fucking you."  Not anymore.

Carter seemed satisfied with that answer.  He turned his attention back to the road and kept driving.

Half an hour later, Tony told Carter to make a right turn onto a road that led down to the lake. 

"We're going on vacation to the same lake we live on," Carter said in a you've got to be fucking with me tone of voice.

"Shut up and keep driving."

Tony couldn't help the grin this time.

"You got somethin' planned," Carter said, grinning back.  "Gonna let me in on it?"

"Maybe."

Carter's laugh echoed off the metal walls of the van.

The road to the marina wound through several more turns, dipping down sharply to lake level.  The houseboat Tony had rented was tied at the end of a long row of power and sailboats. 

The rental fee wasn't cheap, but the look on Carter's face was worth every penny.  Like when they'd been kids and Uncle Sid had given them each twenty bucks and turned them loose in an arcade.

"We're going on that?" Carter asked when he got his voice back.
"Yeah.  Thought we deserved a honeymoon.  Just the two of us."

"Damn big boat for the two of us.  Who's gonna drive it?"

"We are."

The boat owner helped them stow their gear, showed them the fishing gear he'd stocked on Tony's orders, and gave them a long, private lesson in how to take care of his baby. 

Finally, three hours after they'd pulled into the parking lot at the marina, the two of them were alone.  They were still tied to the dock – neither one of them wanted to drive the boat out onto the lake at twilight – and sitting in lounge chairs on the lower deck near the bow.  They each had a beer from the well-stocked fridge.

"What made you think of this?" Carter asked.

"All those fishing trips we used to take.  Never learned to fish.  Always thought that was a damn shame."

Carter chuckled.  "We actually gonna fish this time?"

"There's gear."  Tony had paid extra for that.  Whether they used it or not, he didn't care.  They could spend the entire honeymoon in bed and he'd be happy.

"You know how?"

"Yeah."

Carter arched an eyebrow.

"Okay, I can fake it," Tony said.

"About the only thing you better fake."

Tony put his beer on the deck and straddled Carter's lap.  "I don't have to fake anything with you."  He kissed Carter on the lips, soft and loving.  "You know that, right?"

Carter's large hands came around Tony's waist.  "Yeah.  I do."

They sat like that for a long time, kissing without urgency while the boat rolled gently on the water.  When they went to their cabin, they held hands the whole way. 

The bed wasn't big, but it was big enough.  Tony thought he'd be happy spending all his time there, then Carter sucked him in deep and worked him with his tongue, and Tony forgot to think about much of anything at all.

Afterwards, Carter pulled Tony in close, arm around his shoulders.  "You going domestic on me?" he asked.  "Making vows, taking me on a honeymoon."

Tony stared out at the night sky through the window.  "No."  He thought for a minute, then said, "Maybe.  Just a little.  Just enough to make a commitment.  To you.  To this life."

Carter's arm tightened.  "Sounds good to me."

Yeah, it did.

Tony wasn't sure how long they could live up here.  It was easy to think they were isolated from their old life, up here in this little town far from their Jersey roots and the reach of Uncle Sid's old life.  But Uncle Sid had been a powerful guy.  He had more friends – more "fishing buddies" – than Tony knew about.  Someday one those guys might find them.  Until that happened, this life was a good life, and Tony intended to live it as long as they could.

Just the two of them.

Together.

~ ~ ~ ~
For houseboat rentals like the one Tony rented for their honeymoon, check out these websites:

http://www.sandpointhouseboats.com/Home/tabid/36/Default.aspx

http://www.shastalake.com/resorts/

http://lakepowell.com/houseboats/index.cfm

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