Randy studies him for a moment, then rubs his hands together and laughs. Dane has to smile at that laugh, it makes the man in front of him real, not some lofty celebrity but flesh and blood. I’m in his foyer, Dane thinks—the thought makes him weak in the knees. He wants to call Krish just to tell him he’s here, his lover will understand what it means to him.
With a wink, Randy says, “Well, I’d like a little something, if you don’t mind.”
“No,” Dane replies. “Go ahead.”
“Just need to wet my tongue,” Randy calls out as he disappears into the kitchen. Dane hears cabinets opening, the c***k of ice on glass, and Randy’s voice drifts out to him like a disembodied spirit. “Make yourself comfortable, you hear? I’ll be right there…”
He trails off and Dane picks up his bag and guitar, moving the
