There was little light left. On the shore, against the sea wall rocks where Bill had left David, he could make out a scene that looked like a painting by Goya: David, in the same reclining position, but now bookmarked by Lou and Bowen and Stephen lying on either side of him, the four laughing and enjoying a joke among themselves and whose punch line Bill would never get.
* * * *
By ten the next morning, Bill, David, and Lou were out on the deck. Lou, wearing his Joan Crawford sunglasses, lay perpendicular to the sun, his skin polished with an even coat of Bain de Soleil. David, the palest of the three, was lying on his side facing away from Lou and reading the sports section of the New York Timesas he casually picked his nose.
“Gay bingo tonight,” Lou suddenly said.
“We’re not going,” David quickly retorted.