Chapter 3

“Well, son,” Seth said smoothly, letting his western accent work some magic on the young man, “my friend and I are celebratin’ a kinda reunion. So, if it’s all right with you, we’d like to have a few rounds and catch up on old times…and enjoy the view ‘fore we decide on what really appeals to us. That sit right with ya?”

“Of course. You take all the time you want. I’ll be happy to take your order whenever you decide what your desires are.” He winked at Seth then left the table.

Seth’s eyes followed the waiter’s retreating ass. “Goddamn, he’s hot,” he said before taking a sip of his scotch. “They all are. Look at ’em.”

Mack looked down from their balcony table at the six or seven waiters moving fluidly among the patrons. Seth was right—good looks and well-toned bodies.

“Well, we’re in Chelsea, Seth,” Mack said, looking back at his friend.

“What’s that got ta do with it?”