“Because you have all the qualities I’m looking for in a guy. You are single, aren’t you?”
“Terribly, and unfortunately.”
“And you’re queer, like me, right?”
My God, he was becoming quite personal, and somewhat intrusive, but I seemed to enjoy it no less. When was the last time a local man had taken an interest in me? I couldn’t even remember. I wasn’t pertaining to one-night stands either: men who I sometimes picked up at the queer bar called Below the Sun and fucked around with them until dawn, getting my rocks off. I meant a guy who was serious about me and saw more than my dark-skinned good looks. I had a soul, and a brain. Did Amazon Don get that? Maybe so. Maybe not. Only time would tell.
Before I could respond to his arrangement of dropping off my insurance card, he cleared his throat again, which was definitely a sign of being nervous, and added, “I have a better idea.”
“I like a man with ideas.” It was the truth. Who wanted dead weight around for company? No one.