“Suit yourself.” He leaned back into the couch.
Fat dick. Maybe she could…
“So I heard about your date last night.” Billy picked up a bath towel from the laundry basket on the floor in front of him.
“Oh?” Was he jealous?
“From your busboy.” Etsuko giggled when he shook it out before starting to fold it.
“My busboy?”
“Kensuke’s his name.”
“Yeah.”
“And I think he’s probably gay.”
“Yeah? How do you know all this?” Erika wasn’t that famous, not anymore, hardly worthy of a mention on TMZ or anything like that over a spilled drink at a restaurant. In Japan she was, but not the States, where alleged diehard figure skating fans often walked right past her and Tom Alan looking for Tara and Johnny.
“I know Kensuke,” Billy said. “He plays on my team.” He nodded towards an autographed hockey stick hanging on the wall. “He doesn’t know the whole story with us—you and me, our connection. He just called ‘cause we’re tight like that. These kids think I’m all cool and stuff.”