Chapter 23: Return to Templeton
Patrick and I showered a second time together, dressed, paid a late fee to the inn for our delayed time spent in Room 311, and climbed inside Patrick’s Dakota, heading back to Templeton. Conventional topics were detailed on the ride: favorite bookstores in Templeton, Sontimore Beach and its sexy summertime lifeguards, which we both enjoyed, and Gary Rosetti, my masseuse.
“You have a personal masseuse?” he asked, driving with one hand, keeping his gaze on Bower Hilton Road, and looking as handsome as ever with his red beard and glinting eyes.
“I share him with others, of course. He’s not all mine. I use him more as a therapist than a masseuse because he’s easy to talk to and doesn’t hand me any bullshit.” I didn’t tell Patrick that I used Gary for other th
