Outing [6]

**Present Time**

Vin’s POV

I don’t consider myself an excellent cook but I know my way around casseroles and pans. Unlike Gabe, who is a truly lousy cook. If left to his own, he’d probably do with frosted package of precooked food or worse, gummy bears and popcorn. Ever since I’ve known him, I’ve been ridding his ass, no pun intended, about his unhealthy eating habits until I figured out that the only way to change them was to cook the meals myself.

The irony is that I am the one having to keep an eye on my level of cholesterol in my blood so it doesn’t shoot up, and I also am the one having to watch what I eat so I don’t start gaining weight. Gabe almost doesn’t have any fat on him and he doesn’t even have to work out to keep in shape while I have to drag my fat ass to the track to run three times a week. Genetics is a bitch and getting older is no better.

The smells of fresh made coffee mixed with the sweet aroma of pancakes quickly fill the room and I grin, knowing it won’t be long until Gabe shows up, anxiously squirming as though a puppy, asking to be fed.

Now, don’t get any wrong ideas. We don’t have that kind of relationship. I’m not Gabe’s ‘daddy’ and he sure as hell is not my pet. Just the mere thought of having Gabe calling me ‘daddy’ creeps me out, and it’s not because I’m narrow minded. It’s just that when you have kids of your own that call you daddy, well, having your better half calling you the same doesn’t feel right, especially if sex is involved in any way.

Truth is that Gabe and I don’t have the kind of relationship where one of us takes on the wife role and the other takes the husband role. Through the years, we just developed a pattern where we choose to do what feels the best for us, and don’t worry about that kind of crap. In fact, we rarely bother with titles, mostly because we have yet to come across the one that would fit perfectly. I mean, I’m Gabe’s husband, his wife, his partner, his friend, his lover, his man, but he’s all these things to me and more.

We may not have a piece of paper from the state of California or New York that agrees with that assessment. Not that we really care, ’cause it doesn’t make of what we have any less true. Although on the few occasions that we have had to describe our relationship to someone, we both seem to use the word ‘partner’ or the expression ‘my better half’.

The reality is that we are an unusual family in which blood laces are overrated and don’t mean shit to us. It’s not just Gabe and I but the kids and Paloma as well. And there are also Valentino and Sara and Gordon and George. Ours is not the typical family, I agree, but it works for us and that’s what matters at the end of the day. It took us a while to see that though.

“Are you gonna flip those over?”

Gabe’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts and I blink, chuckling. “I should, shouldn’t I?”

“Yep,” Gabe leans over my shoulder, sniffing appreciatively and then moans happily. “I’m starving.”

“I thought the ‘protein snack’ you had earlier would’ve satisfied your appetite,” I tease him.

Gabe grins, gently nipping my earlobe. “All it did was whet it for more.” He whispers seductively into my ear and I shudder.

“Well, it’s almost ready.”

“The pancakes?” Gabe breathes out, nuzzling my neck. “Or my protein snack?” his hands slide down, resting over my belly.

“You’re such a tease…” I groan, feeling my cock twitching.

“And you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.” I grin, reaching back and, cupping his ass cheeks, I pinch them.

Gabe yelps and then giggles, releasing me but not before he slaps my ass.

I chuckle, splitting the pancakes onto two plates as Gabe walks over to the table, grabbing the pot of coffee and refilling my cup before taking a seat while I expertly sprinkle chocolate syrup and raspberry marmalade all over his pancakes. This messy mix of flavors is what Gabe loves the most. Then I turn around with a plate in each hand, placing his in front of him and mine across the table in front of my chair. But before I can sit, Gabe pulls me to him, resting his face on my belly.

“You spoil me,” he murmurs.

I stroke his hair. “I think you got that wrong.” I lean down, kissing the top of his head, then grin. “In fact,” I chuckle, “I think you’re the best little wife a guy could ever hope for, darling.” And with that I move fast, knowing what’s coming. However Gabe moves faster and kicks me in the butt, a reflex.

“Fuck you, dear.” Gabe sticks his tongue out at me but that shit eating grin is spread on his lips.
“Thought you said we were late as it was, darling.” I wink at him and he gasps, pretending to be indignant.

“You gonna pay for that one, dear.” Gabe points his fork at me and I grin wickedly.

“Can’t wait for you to make me pay, darling.”

This is an old joke of ours; the kind all couples share when they’ve spent as much time together as we have. It’s hard to believe that there was a time when we didn’t trust each other.

———–

**Past Time**

((Six years before))

Gabriel’s POV

It had been a long time since I had laughed so much. My belly and jaw muscles hurt and my lungs seemed to be about to explode from the lack of oxygen. I had readied to fight back Vin’s advances but I found myself having a great time with him.

Conversation flew both ways, changing topics frequently, but we both kept it light. I guessed that Max’s words still weighed between us, but we are men, so we avoided bringing up the delicate topic. Instead we focused on the only thing that, at first sight, it seemed we had in common, aside from liking pancakes. Gordon.

Talking about him gave Vin the chance to share hilarious anecdotes with me about himself that had taken place while he was growing up. Vin told me, among other things, that he had been a bouncer and that his job partners were the ones coming up with his stage name. He also told me that working as telemarker, selling tools, was how he had put the money together to shoot his first featured film, ‘Strays’, which he had also directed. Apparently, Vin’s childhood friends had encouraged him to keep going, offering him their unconditional support. I realized right away that Gordon, George, who I still hadn’t had the chance to meet, Valentino and Vin were a tight pack, really close friends, more like brothers actually.

Their friendship had lasted through the years and had survived Vin’s 180 turn lifestyle, which was praiseworthy. Vin’s fame hadn’t taken them apart. Quite the opposite, he had leaned on them to keep his head cool and his feet on the ground. But I soon realized that of them all, Vin seemed to have some sort of a special connection with Valentino.

Just saying his name, Vin’s entire face brightened and his eyes sparkled with a mix of deep pride and respect. The only thing that seemed to bother him, and I dared to say a lot, was the fact that Val’s career as an actor had yet to take off. It concerned Vin that his large shadow might be the main reason.

It was touching, but it also made me feel jealous, if in a good way. It wasn’t just love and respect, but true admiration. I didn’t think that there was someone out there that had me in such a high esteem. Sure, I had people that loved me, like Max and Fred, but their love seemed to pale in comparison with the love Vin felt for his childhood friends.

“So, Val found this kid…he looked like ‘Punky Brewster’…and he had drugs on him.” He paused and I nodded even though I had no clue who the hell that ‘Punky Brewster’ was. “And so he took him into the garbage room and had all the bouncers watch and reprimanded him like a father figure, you know? Saying…” Another pause, just to clear his throat, going deadly serious, and then, pointing a stiff finger he plunged. “You know how bad drugs are, now I’m gonna have to spank you.”

My eyes widened completely. “Oh my god!”

Vin chuckled. “Yep and the kid was like terrified, you know?”

“No wonder.”

I had seen Valentino three times and, even though he had been quite polite with me, I couldn’t say the man didn’t look frightening. Maybe it was because Val was huge. And before you ask me, yeah, he’s huge all over, if you know what I mean.

“And so Val goes and then he literally starts spanking this kid.”

“Oh, fuck me!” I blinked in disbelief, but I was grinning like a fool. “You kidding?”

“No kidding!” Vin laughed. “And that’s not all.”

“Oh, my…what else did he do?” I honestly couldn’t figure out what could be more embarrassing than having a bouncer spanking you in front of his fellas. Not that I had never been spanked myself, in front of a squad and by a drill sergeant no less! But that had been in a movie, so it wasn’t the same.

“You’re not gonna believe this, Gabe, but Val pulled out his wallet and then called his mother!”

I was laughing so hard that I barely could breathe. The wicked look in his eyes along with his mischievous grin had me gasping for breath, holding my ribs and wiping the tears from my eyes.

It wasn’t just the stories in themselves, which by the way were really funny, but how Vin told them. He was, and still is, an amazing story teller.

Pausing at the appropriate moments to let me catch my breath and then dropping yet another bombshell as soon as I was almost recovered, making me completely lose it again was with no doubt a skill he definitely knew how to make the most of. But that wasn’t all. Vin gesticulated, a hell of a lot, and it occurred to me that maybe, if he had his hands tied up together, then he probably wouldn’t be able to talk at all.

His hands, they are beautiful let me tell you, served him as an incredible support to emphasize his words, creating invisible scenarios that helped me to visualize the situations he was describing in great detail. The same with the goofy faces he made.

Vin didn’t seem in the least concerned about how he might look while screwing up his face in such a funny way. Quite the opposite, I dared to say that he felt pretty comfortable. His sense of the ridiculous seemed to be shame-proof, as though a wicked little kid who was so focused in telling a story that he didn’t care about anything else. It was refreshing, and led me to think that Vin didn’t have any issues making fun of himself; that he didn’t take himself too seriously either.

But above all, what got me for real was how he skilfully used his baritone voice as an instrument in itself. Dropping it to an even more gravely tone to sound threatening, like a cop or an assassin, or exactly the opposite, high pitching it to pretend that he was an old lady.

And so that was the reason why I realized then and there that I was fucked; totally and royally fucked.

I already knew that I’d let Vin have his way with me and then some, and that I’d likely encourage him to do it. I knew right away that Max’s prophesy would become a reality, if not that night, then some other night, but I’d have Vin’s cock buried up my ass so deep that I could taste it, and it would happen pretty soon too. I held no doubts about it.

Of course, back then it didn’t occur to me that all these stories were public knowledge and that over the years Vin had told them a dozen times in shows, interviews and the like. I naively thought of myself as special because Vin was sharing them with me. I should have known better.

————-

Vin’s POV

Now, now, I know what you all must be thinking. What an asshole I was for sharing with Gabe anecdotes that everybody knew, making him believe that he was special. But you gotta keep in mind that I didn’t know shit about Gabe at all, and I had yet to leave the safety of my closet.

I mean, I’ve always been cautious with what I revealed about my life. Hell! I even walked around with a bunch of standard confidentiality agreements under my arm with just the place for the names in blank to fill them out wherever I went before I allowed someone close to me! I couldn’t drop my guard just like that.

It was true that I liked Gabe, a hell of a lot, but back then I didn’t know for sure if he would end up betraying my confidence, telling everybody about our ‘culinary encounter’. It wouldn’t have been the first time that whoever I had been with had used the occasion to have these so called fifteen minutes of fame at my expense.

The internet was already full of gossip and rumors about me and the many girls I had ‘dated’ over the years. Stories about me hosting wild parties where only girls were welcomed; girls that I couldn’t fuck because I was huge; me getting off on a pillow or jumping out of bed just to do push ups at 3am, and the list went on and on, each one more bizarre than the previous.

There even was someone who had said that I had been at a party full of beautiful chicks but that I had chosen a guy and we both had moved to one of the rooms in the house to enjoy our private party. Okay, that one was true, but that’s not the point.

And I guess that some of you must be thinking that if I was more selective, setting higher standards before fucking a chick then that wouldn’t happen. I mean, if instead of getting some slutty chick I got a ‘decent’ girl, then that shit wouldn’t happen to me, right? Wrong.

First off, most ‘decent’ chicks wouldn’t come anywhere close to me and they wouldn’t have sex with someone they just met either. It’s one thing whatever sexual fantasy we may have, but reality is another ballgame.

In second place, most ‘decent’ girls don’t like ‘fuck buddies’ but boyfriends that eventually will end up asking them in marriage or that, at least, would be willing to develop some sort of commitment to them.

And last but not least, let me tell you that like most people, I have a very specific taste regarding what I like in the sack. I like people with an open mind regarding sex. Puritan, prudish and the like are not of my taste, if you know what I mean.

Sex is not what you see in movies, not even in pornos. Sex is about fluids and weird sounds and funny odors. It’s about giving and taking, but also about feeling free to ask for what you want without having to explain why you want it or being judged in the process. But let’s go back to the gossip and rumors because sure as hell it’s easy to talk out of your ass when you see the show from the sideline.

Let’s pretend that you meet someone. You’re both adults, you liked each other and you seem to have some sort of cool connection. So you both say, what the hell! Let’s have some fun together. You either go back to your place or decide to get a room somewhere. You have sex, to top it off, it’s not bad or maybe even incredible, depending on the mood and the skills. You say your goodbyes and go back to your place. Satisfied, or not, depending how it went.

So far everything looks normal, right? I mean almost everybody had casual sex with someone at some point in their lives, right? No big deal, right? Your life goes on and that’s that.

Okay, now let’s think about the ‘what if’.

What if sometime after that night of causal sex, you go check your email, or you get a phone call and it’s one of your friends saying that your casual ‘someone’ posted all the details about your encounter on the Internet for everybody to see? And that she/he went further and is telling everybody that you were not only a lousy fuck but that you also farted on her/his face while she/he was eating you out? And what if that someone went even further, revealing that you liked dirty talk or to be called names or to be bound and spanked or all that and then some? How would you feel then?

Now, try and guess how someone famous would feel? Think about people you don’t know at all approaching you in the middle of the street with a camera and a microphone just to ask you if what that someone said is true. Try to imagine all your family, all your friends, all your co-workers, all your employees, all your neighbors and even the guy that comes to cut the grass finding out about your casual encounter with that someone and knowing every single fucking detail, as though they were there, watching and taking notes.

See? It’s easy to talk when you’re on the sideline, and that was the reason why I was being cautious with Gabe.

I just couldn’t be completely sure. Everybody could be an opportunist hoping to get lucky and I didn’t feel safe anymore. So, yeah, I was being cautious, but I was also having the time of my life just watching Gabe laughing. It only made me fall for him even more and faster than I thought possible.

I had only felt that way with Paloma, and even then it hadn’t been that strong. It wasn’t just love at first sight or a whim, I realized, but something deeper, and to be honest, it scared me a little.

I had already decided that I wouldn’t have sex with Gabe, at least not that night, but I was aware of the exact moment when he started seriously reassessing his thoughts about one night stands. And not because I thought he was a slut, but because he was a man and homosexual. Now, let me get this right so as to avoid misunderstandings.

As far as I know, gay men are more daring, impulsive and reckless than straight men or women are. Maybe because in a gay relationship the fear of pregnancy doesn’t exist or maybe because at the end of the day they are still men and would likely fuck anything with a pulse if given the chance. Whatever reason, most men wouldn’t waste time wondering things like ‘would he call me tomorrow?’ ‘Would he respect me afterwards?’ either, at least not the same way a woman would do. Of course, every rule has its exception.

Nevertheless, I had also started reassessing my own plans for Gabe. I didn’t want it to be a one night deal anymore. I wanted more, although what that ‘more’ was exactly, I wasn’t sure.

What I had no doubt about was that as soon as I made a move on him, Max’s words would spring into Gabe’s head and he would likely go on the defensive or worse, he’d brush me off. At the end, Max was Gabe’s friend and, judging by the performance they had offered early that night, it was clear that they were really close. But Gabe looked relaxed and he seemed to be having a good time, so I took a deep breath and got ready to sound him out.

“Gabe,” I started casually. “It’s okay if I call you Gabe? I mean, I’m only now realizing that I didn’t even ask you if you like it or not.”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” He shrugged his shoulders but smiled a little. “People call me Gabriel or Gaby though, but I like Gabe.”

I grinned. So I was the only one calling him that. I liked that. Too bad I couldn’t reciprocate because people used almost all short versions of my name, such as Vin, Vinnie, Vincent.

Gabe sipped from his beer and got a bit more comfortable on the chair. We were still in the kitchen of the hotel. “What’s your real name, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“Mark Sinclair Vincent, but no one calls me Mark anymore, aside from my mom. All my friends call me Vin.”

Gabe nodded, but looked a bit disappointed, as though he was expecting for me to tell him to call me other than Vin.

“So Gabe, what do you do for a living? Aside from being a go-go dancer and a performer for hen parties.”

Gabe hesitated. “I’m a painter,” he answered wryly.

I blinked, happily surprised. I wasn’t expecting it. “Really?”

Gabe nodded.

“Are you any good?”

He chuckled. “Not sure I can answer that objectively.”

I grinned. “Yeah, I guess it must be something like when people ask me if I’m a good actor.”

“And are you a good actor?” Gabe teased me and I laughed softly.

“I like to think that I don’t suck, but it’s not like I work a lot anymore.”

It was out before I even thought about it and it disconcerted me how easily I had admitted such a fact to him.

“Why?” Gabe leaned forward, resting his elbows on the countertop. That was a gesture I would learn to recognize. Gabe only did that when he was really interested about something or concerned.

My career, or the lack of it, was a very delicate matter I didn’t like to discuss with many people aside from my agent and my dad and yet… “This business is like a roller coaster full of ups and downs.” I smiled a self-deprecating smile and shrugged my shoulders as thought it wasn’t a big deal, but it was and, once more, I found myself telling Gabe. “Scratch that. This business sucks big time.”

Gabe frowned, watching me carefully. “I guess that shit about ‘you are only as good as your last blockbuster’ is a real bitch.”

I nodded slowly, realizing that Gabe was really good at reading people, at least at reading me. I knew right then and there that I wouldn’t be able to fool him for the hell of it. “Yeah, well, mine was years ago.”

I had been at the top of the hill, had tasted the sweet flavor of success and now I had been reduced to a ‘has been’. It was a bitter pill to swallow, so I gulped the rest of my beer in one long pull, lamely hoping to get rid of the hopeless frustration that threatened to overwhelm me in seconds. It didn’t work though; I was fooling myself.

“It doesn’t mean that you’re not good at what you do.” Gabe said softly, never averting his gaze from mine. He wasn’t joking; he was stating a fact. It reminded me of Valentino. In fact, Gabe had sounded a lot like Val.

His words ended at one stroke my pity orgy as well, and I was grateful. I hated when people went all condescending on me, saying whatever crap they thought I needed to hear to make me feel better. Or worse, when they pitied me. I couldn’t stand that shit.

“How old are you, Gabe?”

Gabe blinked at my sudden change in topic but answered all the same. “25. You?”

“Forty something,” I chuckled, giving Gabe a funny look.

Gabe narrowed his eyes and then grinned. “You look good. Did you have some touch ups done?” He was teasing me.

I snorted. “I’m 100% natural.”

“Oh, then you must have great genes,” Gabe said thoughtfully.

I shrugged one shoulder. “I guess so.”

I had never met my biological father, although I guess that he had had something to do with it. It didn’t require a genius to figure out that my skin color wasn’t the result of tanning, and I hadn’t inherited it from my mom either.

“Vin?” One of my bodyguards poked his head in the kitchen. “Sorry for disturbing you but the chef wants to know if you’re done in here.”

I frowned, annoyed. My first thought was to reply ‘fuck the chef’, I even opened my mouth, but then I saw out of the corner of my eye how Gabe’s eyes widened completely.

“Oh, shit! How thoughtless of us!” He gasped, looking at the clock that was hanging from the wall, guilt and shame sparkling in his eyes.

It was only then when he realized that it was almost 3am. We had been in that kitchen for three hours.

“The man has to be wondering if we’re gonna spend the night in his kitchen.” Gabe smiled, blushing in embarrassment.

He clearly felt like shit for keeping the chef up this late. Apparently, Gabe didn’t know that all the services at luxurious hotels work 24/7.

“The chef will likely be sleeping peacefully, Gabe. If anything, one of his assistants is the one being up, along with a squad of waiters.” I didn’t move; I wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

“Oh…well, it’s late anyway.” Gabe started gathering the plates, but I grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“The staff will take care of that.”

Gabe blinked, looking at me as though I had grown a third eye. “But we were the ones messing around.”

“So what?” It was then when I got to my feet without releasing his wrist. “I’ll leave a generous tip for the trouble,” I added, pulling gently, so he got closer to me. Gabe looked a bit disconcerted but released the plate. He didn’t fight me either and I grinned down at him. “So…you leaving?”

Gabe nodded “Yeah. It’s late.” He gazed up at me and smiled. “Thanks for the pancakes; they were delicious.”

“I’ll make you pancakes whenever you want.” I grinned, pulling him a bit closer to me and leaned forward a little. He tensed but didn’t offer resistance. “Do you really have to leave?” I whispered into his ear. “‘Cause I’d love it if you stay…with me…” My lips brushed his earlobe and Gabe shuddered, swallowing nervously. “I could make you pancakes for breakfast.”

Gabe’s breath hitched and a quiet moan passed his lips as he shifted from one foot to another. We were so close that I could feel his cock twitching within his jeans.

“Vin…I…I really need to go.” As he spoke, his hot breath caressed my neck and I couldn’t stop the shiver that ran up my spine.

“You sure?” My thumb traced slow patterns across the inner side of his wrist and this time he was the one shuddering.

“Yes…” Gabe’s body swayed forward a little as he shook his head ‘no’. It was back then when I started to notice that Gabe’s mind and body didn’t seem to be in tune and suspected that he was a ‘walking-talking contradiction’ kind of guy.

“Having trouble making up your mind, Gabe?” I chuckled, tilting my head back so I could look at his face. His eyes were squeezed shut and his cheeks were bright red. Gabe was trembling but his hand had somehow sneaked around under my shirt and was now caressing my lower back.

“Hard to focus with your body pressed to mine…” he shifted his hips until every inch of our fronts were touching. Without thinking, I pushed my cock into his, shamelessly grinding it against the bulge in his jeans. “Oh…Fuck…” Gabe whispered raggedly, resting his head on my shoulder.

Right then and there I knew that I could bend him over the countertop, fucking him silly and he wouldn’t fight me. The mere thought cut my breath away and I hissed, forcing the air through my lungs. As unbelievable as it may sound, I didn’t want to take advantage of him.

“Tempting, Gabe, damned tempting, but…” I groaned, cursing myself inwardly.

As much as I wanted to fuck him six ways from Sunday and as much as my cock liked the idea, I didn’t want him being a one night deal anymore.

“But?” Gabe nuzzled my neck.

I closed my eyes, almost forgetting what I wanted to say. Gabe sensuously undulating against my frame wasn’t helping me to think with the right head, I swear.

“Casual sex is not your call, remember? You’re not into one night stands…” Thinking was getting harder and harder, just like my cock.

“One night stands can be fun.” Gabe moaned as he ground his erection against mine.

Well, fuck me! He had a point there, I had to concede. And then it struck me. I’m not even sure how I managed to focus long enough to realize that we were having the same conversation that we were having the night we met at Gordon’s birthday party; only thing was that we had reversed our roles.

Things were getting out of hand pretty fast. I needed to do something before I got past the point of no return and didn’t give a damn about ripping his clothes off, fucking his brains out. Which all of a sudden I realized sounded like a hell of a great plan.

“They make you feel dirty and empty…you said so yourself…” I groaned, feeling how his fingers gently traced the dimples at my lower back. “Fuck, Gabe, you’re killing me here.”

You have to know that there are some hot spots across my body that seem to be hardwired to my cock and the dimples at my lower back are one of these hot spots. So guess what Gabe’s ‘innocent’ caress was doing to me.

I reached around, grabbing his hips and Gabe snapped his head up, flinching. “Wait!”

I blinked, taken aback at his unexpected reaction and released him. It looked like I had hurt him, but I swear that I hadn’t grabbed him that hard. “What…” I frowned confused. “You okay?”

Gabe looked away, panting hard and ran a hand through his hair, trying to regain control.

“Gabe, are you okay?” I was getting concerned, but I didn’t dare to touch him, afraid that I might hurt him. It didn’t occur to me that, in fact, that was what I had done, exactly, but not because I had been a bit aggressive, but because Gabe’s lower back and hips were covered in bruises.

When he and Max had done their show, Gabe hadn’t removed his black, tight tank top and he hadn’t given his back to the audience either. Occam’s Razor: ‘one should always choose the simplest explanation of a phenomenon, the one that requires the fewest leaps of logic’. Instead, there I was, racking my brain trying to figure out what had happened.

“Gabe?”

Maybe it was the edge on my voice but he finally looked at me. “Yeah,” Gabe nodded but his voice sounded grim and tinted with bitterness. “I gotta go.” He turned around and picked up his backpack from the floor.

“Did I do something wrong? Just tell me…I” I didn’t understand what had happened there and it was frustrating.

“No,” Gabe looked at me and smiled but I noticed that his smile didn’t reach his all of a sudden teary eyes. “You did nothing wrong. It’s just that…” he trailed off, averting his eyes. “It’s late. I better go,” he said quietly.

Gabe looked quite upset all of a sudden but also angry. I hoped that his anger wasn’t directed at me but at something else. However, just watching him, struggling to pull himself together was breaking my heart. Needless to say that I lost my hard on in record time. His pain and anger were affecting me, a lot, and I nodded, not wanting to upset him more.

“Listen, I won’t be in town until next weekend, but I’m planning a party for a bunch of friends, sort of ‘just us guys’ party. Would you like to come?”

His face brightened a little but he hesitated before nodding. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

I let out the air I had been holding and grinned. “Cool.” Reaching into my back pocket, I handed him a visit card. “Here.”

Gabe took it and stared at it, frowning. There was nothing but a cell phone number on it.

“Is this your cell phone number?” Doubtfully, he frowned at me but pocketed the card.

“No, but if you call that number on Friday, you’ll get to talk with me. I’ll give you the details so you can come to the party.”

Gabe’s eyebrows drew down, crumpling his forehead, but he finally nodded.

Ch 7