Jean watched from the hallway, her hand over her mouth to smother the laughter.
“Like this.” Scott grabbed the plastic from Logan’s hands and sealed it carefully. He didn’t even flinch when the shorter man took it back with a fierce snarl and reopened it. The contents spilled out between them on the expensive marble floor.
“I can do it.”
“Fine, then. Do it.”
Scott shook his head and Logan’s fingers ran along the edge of the Tupperware as he closed it again. His face red with frustration and Scott smiled.
“Still not right. You have to make it burp.”
Logan, Porn Magazine
“Darlin’, I don’t need to look at this crap.”
She laughed and opened up the centerfold. She held it above them, pretending to admire the airbrushed curves, the plastic breasts, and the carefully trimmed pubic hair.
“Isn’t this what all men want?”
“No.” Logan tore the magazine and let it fall to the floor beside the bed. His hands cupped her soft breasts, his mouth nuzzled her warm throat. His fingers drifted over the rise of her abdomen and he kissed the scratches and scars that faded into the tanned skin of her arms.
“This is what all men want.”
“You drink good for an American, bub.”
Three bottles of Jack and a fifth of Tequila. Lindsey could hardly see and the man beside him had to hold on to the bar to stay standing upright. The crowd roared in the background as another man was tossed to the mat behind the cage built of chain link.
Lindsey stripped off his shirt.
“Show me what you’ve got, little man.”
More flannel on the floor, the man beside him bristled and growled.
Who did he remind him of?
“Takes more than a pretty smile to bring me down, boy.”
“Layover … Four hours.”
Static on his cell. A message left while he was being interviewed. Quick drive to JFK.
He waited in a bar on the concourse level. An untouched scotch in front of him, a Marlboro burning in the ashtray. When he was not alone, the air between them became as brittle as old ice.
Lips he used to kiss. Skin he used to touch.
“I remember the flavor of your heart.”
“You could come. It’s only a weekend. Nothing more.”
"I miss ..."
“I can’t, Chris. I don’t live in the past.”
“I know, Dave.”