~ JOHN-PAUL ~
JP drove Tomas to their favorite diner—an old-fashioned corner restaurant near the freeway, with linoleum floors, vinyl booths, and tall windows that were mostly obscured by drooping curtains and advertisements for breakfast meals painted on the outside. The diner had been around longer than JP had been alive. They’d been introduced to it by their parents when they were kids. As they’d grown, then lost their parents, it had become a favorite haunt. The food was good and came in wolf-sized servings. And it was the kind of place where you might see anyone from a grandmother, to a Hell’s Angel. Two tall, handsome men might draw female attention, but wouldn’t be remarked upon. Or observed.
Tomas hadn’t been there for four years, but JP’s favorite booth was free, so he led his
