“You already asked me that. The answer’s the same. I forgot. Let it go.”
I watched Tacoma walk away and go outside. He left me behind in the sitting-room.
Tacoma met up with the dashing and good-looking Katz Strong near his Harley. The two young men shook hands and hugged the way straight men do: space between their hips, chests separated by inches, faces apart. They immediately started talking, smiled at each other, and kept steady eye contact, but not in a romantic action.
My eyes stayed glued on the interloper in the drive, and studied his details: slim build, muscled back, cleft in chin, fall-into eyes that sparked a necessary evil, broad shoulders, narrow hips, and a perfect set of teeth, like a model’s.