Chapter 6

Tonight he just might get his chance.

Slowly, Mark smiles. He touches Peter’s shoulder and feels warm skin beneath Peter’s shirt. “You okay, man?”

Peter yawns and rubs his eyes. “Fine.” He sounds sleepy, like his buzz is starting to get to him.

Can’t have that.

“What about some brewskies?” Without waiting for Peter’s reply, he steps into the room and picks up the phone by the bed to call room service.

* * * *

Mark sits cross-legged on the floor nursing a can of beer as he watches Peter. The overhead bulb is out now, replaced by the softer, diffused light of the bedside lamp. Peter lays on the little, two-cushion loveseat by the window, his legs curled up under him so he’ll fit. He’s on his third can of Coors.