Scooter couldn’t decide if this was a dream or a f*****g nightmare; given that he spent a few minutes staring at the tailor’s scissors and having a very vivid fantasy about stabbing himself in the throat, he was going to with nightmare.
The tailors had been all obsequiousness as soon as Andy had stepped into the shop. Mister Howard and so glad to see him again, and how was his father, and who is your guest, sir? What the utter f**k was going on? Andy did the damn dishes back at Dockside, but it seemed like something distant and utterly impossible that Scooter’s sometimes ridiculous, sassy boyfriend was…high society New York famous.
Terrifying, really. Scooter was having trouble imagining Andy going home with him again. And every time he wandered down that chain of thoughts, he remembered
