The youth hostel was comprised of six tiny bedrooms and a communal bathroom down the hall. Outside was a trellised patio draped with verbena. Ricky and Andy were sprawled on chaises in the shade. Within reach were a couple of tall, frosted glasses.
“Want to join us?” Andy asked. He reached for a glass and held it up. “We got ’em at the cantina next door. According to Ricky, their menu is pretty appetising too.”
“No, thanks. I want to unpack and take a bath. I’ll grab a bite to eat later.”
“No tub in this place, if that’s what you’re hankering for.”
“Eh?”
“All they have are showers. They’re down the hall from our rooms. Ricky and I have the one—the ones—at the end.”
“Look, it don’t matter to me if you guys are a couple.”
“That’s kind of you.”
I shrugged. “Not my business. Does the h
