Bab 11: Chapter 11

He set the large wooden salad bowl on the table and lit citronella candles to keep the mosquitoes at bay, then leaned against an archway. Tonight he was going to…to fuck a man. He waited for a sense of panic to swamp him.

“Dinner’s ready, y’all. Come an’ get it.”

Jack turned to face his friend, smiling broadly. Panic was nowhere to be found.

* * * *

Dinner was excellent, the steak charred on the outside but rare on the inside, the roasted potatoes slathered with butter, salt, and cracked black pepper, and the salad crisp, its dressing tangy. As for the wine, it was exactly what the clerk had promised.

But now dinner was finished. The dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, soaking, and the charcoal in the grill was slowly burning down to glowing embers. Before them on the table were cups of coffee brewed from freshly-ground beans, and the cheesecake slathered with mounds of whipped cream which, as Tom had promised, he’d whipped himself.