“Please. You just want to meet the guy so you can have fantasy material for sex with Curtis. That’s what porn is for, remember?”
“Whatever.” Wade went back to stocking the shelves, and I went back to earning my keep.
* * * *
Several days later, on a Sunday morning, someone knocked on my door. It could only be Damien.
I opened the door. “Hey.” He looked really good in cargo shorts that exposed his fit calves, and a muscle shirt that, well, you get the idea. “Got the rent?”
“Yeah.” He handed me a sealed envelope.
“Thanks,” I said as I took it. Usually Damien would turn around and leave with a wave, but this time, he just stood there.
“Anything else?” I asked.
Damien cleared his throat. “Can I come in? I want to talk to you about something.”
I stared at him for a second. He looked so serious. I stepped aside so he could enter. I had a George Strait song playing on low volume in the living room. Damien walked past me and took a seat on the couch. I sat in a chair to his left.