The waiter brought their wine. He put Jack’s in front of him with no fanfare, but fussed with the coaster in front of Tom before placing the glass on it.
“Anything else I can get for y’all?” Jesus, was he batting his lashes at Tom?
“No thanks, we’re good.” The corner of Tom’s mouth curled in a grin, and the waiter blushed.
Jack frowned, picked up his glass, then put it down and cleared his throat pointedly.
“Well, if y’all need anything, just give me a whistle. You know how to whistle, don’t you?”
Tom pursed his lips and let out a short whistle.
The waiter smiled and sashayed—he actually sashayed—away.
Tom was smiling too. Jack couldn’t help but notice how his eyes lingered on the waiter’s ass.
Was that some sort of secret code? Had Tom just made an assignation?
Tom raised his glass. “Here’s to old friends.”
Jack pushed the paranoid thought out of his head. “To old friends.” He took a sip. “This is a good wine.”