Loving and Loathing Vegas by Lex Chase

Chapter One
     
    J ACKSON WIPED down the lunch counter for the thousandth time. He’d counted. Of course he’d counted. Like he counted the notches on his bedpost.
    He sighed. Why couldn’t they close Eaven for Thanksgiving? It’s not like there were any patrons within a ninety-mile radius. Tezcatlipoca, New Mexico was a sleepy, one-stoplight town that not even Google Maps could find with both hands feeling for assholes. And Eaven was one of the two eateries. At least they were the more popular of the two. Or that is, when there were actual customers .
    Did anyone even cook turkeys here? Jackson had considered the same deeply philosophical question every year. The nearest supermarket was in Santa Fe, ninety miles to the north.
    One thousand and one , he counted as he made another pass across the counter. The aluminum edging gleamed bright enough to be a lighthouse’s Fresnel lens. Maybe it would light the way for starving customers? Ones who took a wrong turn on the interstate and ended up in an odd little town like Tez?
    Come , he prayed. Come try the pie!
    Jesus, fuck. Someone show up. And dear God, bring enough money so we can finally fix the neon sign. Eaven had ended up sticking as a name, since the H had long burned out.
    One thousand and two.
    “I don’t see any tickets on my cook line,” Vegas called from the kitchen.
    Jackson gave a dirty look into the pass-through from the counter to the kitchen. “I’m sorry. All the imaginary customers can’t decide.” He threw the rag down in a huff. “Why do you insist on keeping the damned diner open on Thanksgiving? The whole town is shut down for the holiday but us. There’s much better things we can do with our time than wiping down spotless counters and washing unused pots.”
    “It’s Sisyphus,” Vegas said with a pleased grin.
    Jackson groaned and tossed up his hands. “Again with the Sisyphus bullshit.”
    Vegas nodded. “Once a year we must remind ourselves that humanity is torture and hopeless.”
    Jackson fell back on the counter like a spoiled child. “And whose bright idea was it to decide to move out of the Seventh Circle? The condo was nice and out of the way of all of that nightmarish traffic coming off the Phlegethon River.” He rubbed his temples as he slumped off the counter. “My God, I can still hear the shrieking when we had to make a grocery run.”
    Vegas shrugged. “The rent’s cheaper here. And I didn’t have to make a Faustian deal to get a business license. Can you imagine what would have happened to us when it came time to collect?” He snorted. “No thanks.”
    “And now you get to freely serve your sinfully delicious pies to silly humans who take a wrong turn.”
    Vegas furrowed his thin blond brows. “Is that sarcasm? I’ll have you know my pies are damned good.”
    “Fuck yeah, they are,” Jackson agreed with a nod.
    “I didn’t earn that TripAdvisor Certificate of Excellence on my megawatt smile alone, you know.” He pointed to the aged, peeling window cling on the scratched-up glass door. “How’s the counter coming?”
    Jackson wilted. He could feel his spiritual energy leaving his body in sickly coils. “I am Sisyphus,” he muttered and picked up the rag. “Doomed to this hell.”
    “Don’t insult home like that,” Vegas warned him.
    Jackson wiped down the counter again.
    One thousand and three.
    Vegas chuckled behind him. “You have any better ideas of what to do for the holidays?”
    Jackson snorted. “Yeah, genius. Fucking. Fucking. And”—he turned, giving Vegas a lecherous grin—“ more fucking.”
    Vegas scowled. “You know the rules. While we’re among mortals, our powers are sealed.”
    Dammit. If he wasn’t so adorable, Jackson would have gladly pushed Vegas off that damned cliff epochs ago. “We’re incubi,” Jackson spat. “You know what that means.” He slapped a hand to his chest. “We fuck. A lot. We do it to live. We do it to give our partners a good time. A real good