Edward Lee - The Black Train

Sammy’s eyes thinned. “Tell me it’s bullshit, Justin. Your ratings jumped. You don’t turn down a contract renewal when your show skyrockets to the third slot.”

“It’s no bullshit,” Collier said. “I’m not going to sign the contract.”

Sammy smiled. “Sure, I get it. You’re holding out for more—cool. That’s why I’m here, my man. Prentor sent me here to convince you to come back. I know how it works—you don’t take the first offer. But I’m prepared to up that by—”

Collier shook his head, amused. “I’m not holding out, Sammy. I don’t want to do the show anymore.”

Sammy’s tan face creased. “Another channel made an offer? We’re prepared to counter offer.”

“You’re not hearing me. I’m not coming back. I’m burned out. I’m sick of being on TV…”

Savannah Sammy looked on the verge of grabbing Collier’s throat. “Justin! You just got voted sexiest man on the Food Network! You don’t walk away from that!”

“I’m walking.” Collier winked. “But look at the bright side. With me gone, you’re back in the third seat, right behind Emeril and what’s her name.”

Sammy’s hair spray began to break. “You just hit the big time, brother! No one says no to that!”

“I do. I’m just going to write beer books and relax. I’m not even coming back to L.A.”

“Where are you gonna go?”

“Here,” Collier said. “I’m staying right here, in Gast.”

One of Sammy’s eyes began to twitch. “This is a Civil War tourist town in bumfuck Tennessee!”

“That’s right.” Collier patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry you came all this way for nothing, man. But my mind’s made up…”

“Jesus. Prentor’s not gonna believe it…” But then Sammy’s eyes flicked to the door’s glass panel. “Hey, check out this old woman with the fantastic bod. Holy shit. ”

Mrs. Butler was coming through the doors, her breasts and wide hips highlighted in a clingy dress.

“And look at the little fireplug behind her!” Sammy added.

It was Lottie who followed her mother, in a halter and cutoff shorts barely bigger than a bikini.

“Mr. Collier, I’m so sorry you won’t be stayin’ any longer,” Mrs. Butler lamented. “Jiff said you needed to check out right now.”

“Yeah, I do. But I’m not exactly leaving town.” Collier signed his credit card receipt and returned it.

Lottie grinned at him. She mouthed, Let’s screw…

Some things never change, Collier thought.

But Mrs. Butler was already staring. “My goodness gracious! ” She grabbed Collier’s arm. “Am I lookin’ at who I think I’m lookin’ at?”

This’ll be great! “Mrs. Butler, let me introduce you to Food Network star Savannah Sammy—”

“—of Savannah Sammy’s Sassy Smokehouse !” the old woman shrilled with delight. Lottie’s eyes snapped to Sammy’s crotch.

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Sammy extended his hand.

The woman almost fainted. “Oh, I just LOVE your show! And, please, please, call me Helen! Are we blessed enough that you’ll be staying with us?”

Sammy hesitated, his eyes pasted to Mrs. Butler’s bosom. “Well…”

“Stay a few days, Sammy,” Collier goaded. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, and urged them to enter. “It’s the best bed-and-breakfast you’ve ever seen in your life.”

Sammy’s eyes couldn’t settle on whose body to examine harder: Mrs. Butler or Lottie. “Yeah, I guess I could stay a few days…”

Collier squeezed the old woman’s shoulder. “Mrs. Butler, why don’t you check Sammy into my old room?”

“Oh, I’d be happy to! Come on inside, Mr. Sammy!”

Lottie grabbed Sammy’s bag and followed them in.

“Later, Sammy,” Collier bid.

“Yeah, yeah—we’ll talk—”

No we won’t, Collier thought. He chuckled under his breath. This house is gonna LOVE him…

Jiff came back out with Collier’s suitcase and laptop. “Well, here’s your stuff, Mr. Collier. It’s been great knowin’ ya.”

“I’ll be seeing you around, Jiff. I’m moving here.”

Jiff gaped through his hangover. “You kiddin’?”

“Nope. I need a change of scenery. Bad.”

Jiff paused through some confusion. “Well that’s just dandy…”

Collier took the suitcase. “I got some things to tend to right now, but I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Okay, Mr. Collier.” But then Jiff stopped him. “Wait a sec. Before ya leave…” He pulled something out of his pocket. “Didn’t know if you wanted these in yer suitcase, ya know?”

He handed Collier Dominique’s bra and panties. “Thanks, Jiff. I’ll get them back to their rightful owner soon. Take care!”

Collier stowed his gear in the car and drove off.

Jiff just shook his head. “What the hell does he wanna move here for?” he muttered. II

Jiff decided to blow off the rest of the day; the hangover had thoroughly ragged him out, and with his mother and sister fussing over that Sammy guy who’d just checked in…

They’ll never know I’m gone.

Instead, Jiff moseyed over to the Spike, but not to turn any tricks. Shit, I’m even too hungover for that …For a hangover of this magnitude, there was only one real cure.

The long, dark bar had no customers this early, just Buster—in his vest and Frankenstein’s-monster haircut—hanging up some glasses.

“Jiff. Can’t believe you’re in here after all those beers you pounded last night.”

“Buster, I need me some hair’a the dog.”

“Don’t know where you put it.” Buster slid him a beer. “How’s business?”

“Sucks.”

They both laughed at the same time.

“Heard you’re cutting off old J.G. That true?”

Jiff sat slumped. “Yeah, that old whack job was gettin’ too kinky even for me.”

“I’ll bet the poor old guy is heartbroke. He’ll probably jump out his window.”

“Hope not.” Jiff paused. “He’d crack the street wide-open.”

Both men honked laughter.

“Or maybe you’re just gettin’ too old yourself,” Buster kept it up, “and don’t want to admit it.”

Jiff glared abruptly. “Hey. Jiff Butler will never be too old to hustle. Fellas’ll be paying for my hard peckerwood till I’m ninety.”

“Yeah? What are you now? Thirty-eight?”

“Thirty- two, bitch.”

Buster wheezed. “If you’re thirty-two, George Clooney’s a Republican.”

On the TV, Jiff spied the opening of Savannah Sammy’s Sassy Smokehouse . “You ain’t gonna believe this, Buster, but that guy just checked in, right after Justin Collier checked out. kind’a weird, you ask me.”

“Two Food Network guys in the same day, huh? That is weird. But the weirder part is him being in here the other day.” Buster leaned over, grinning. “You turn a trick with him?”

“Naw—”

“Sexiest man on the channel they’ve been saying all day.”

Jiff shrugged, then remembered with some shame what he’d almost done last night during the storm. Jesus…

He could only hope the house would settle down for a while now. “He’s straight, believe me. Got the hots for Dominique Cusher.”

“The Christian chick?”

Jiff nodded. “Straight folks are ALL fucked up, ain’t they?”

“Tell me about it.”

When Jiff signaled for another beer, Buster frowned. “You got money, Jiff? You’re not going to stiff me like the other day.”

Jiff pretended to look offended, and pulled out the fifty-dollar bill that Justin Collier had given him. “Just pull me another cold one…faggot.”