A slow smile spreads across his face at the memory of their coupling last night. Blain didn’t see that, he has no clue how it is. So what if Gerrick’s been gone all day? At the tumblers turning rocks maybe, or at the trump store stocking up on supplies, who knows? Who cares?
He’s coming back. His bags are here, right? The pallet’s just waiting to be f****d in again. Tonight, after the last call downstairs, after the lights outside are doused, after the day is gone and the night is fading fast, Gerrick will be his.
* * * *
Trin waits at the bar, sitting in the same seat he sat in yesterday. Hunkered over a glass of tepid water and a half-empty plate of spaghetti, something Aissa whipped up for him because she said he needed to eat, he surveys the common room in the mirror behind the bar.
