Chapter 4

Such a strange bird Harding was during a cocktail party we shared a few years before. Easy on the eyes and flirty. No filter. Somewhat rude. He admitted to me over vodka cocktails that he sometimes liked to bang men who looked like professional football players.

“I really like Tom Brady. I’m sure you hear that all the time, Pete. To tell you the truth, you could dress like a quarterback, and I could fuck you over a bathroom sink or somewhere. Both of us can score.”

I told him his fiancée wouldn’t approve.

He said, “Maybe she’ll want to join us.”

No thanks on my part. Three drinks later, I changed my mind, and we fucked in a stranger’s bedroom. Faye never knew about it.

I say to Ira, “I read one or two of his books. Not my thing. Too much blood and gore. Not enough mystery. He’s a butcher at writing and storyteller.”