“Oh, yeah,” David let out with a sigh. “As you now know, he still does it.”
“It being?”
“Being his Catholic, mafioso boyhood filtered through a miscreant adulthood loose in Queerdom. I think he must dream of nuns chasing him with Leviticus in one hand and a lubed-up electric cattle prod in the other.”
The coffee began to percolate in the old aluminum pot sitting on the old Hotpoint electric range.
“You don’t live with him. How do you know it happens all the time? Maybe it’s only here, in Provincetown. With you.”
It occurred to Bill that it might be David whom Lou dreams of.
David got two chipped cups and saucers, again making as much noise as he could, and set them on the counter. Standing by the brewing coffee, he continued to talk about Lou.