Chapter 16

His text on my phone comes in around eight-fifteen this evening.

It reads: Your man is here. He’s drinking a White Russian.

I text him back: I’ll be there in a few minutes. Keep him busy.

Truth is, I have to hustle, leave the apartment, and get down to the inn before Wave finishes his drink and leaves.

“Who are you going out with?” Ira questions, delaying me.

I don’t want to be rude and calmly reply with, “Someone you don’t know.”

He stares at the flat-screen without moving his head. “This is kind of shocking, since I know a lot of queer men in this city.”

The flat-screen shows a beefy and handsome actor sucking on a female’s neck. Blood rolls down and along her flesh in two lines. The scene is cliché, another reason why I don’t like the show.

“I’ll ask my date if he knows you.”

He laughs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he does. Hell, I’ve probably fucked him once or twice.”