Frankie Woodrow, one of my dearest friends, called from his Legend cruise. He had worked for Legend Cruise Line for the last six years. The brunette with blazing green eyes sang and danced in the evenings for the company, floated from one island to the next in the Caribbean, and claimed that he had the best job in the world. He and I had been friends since our childhoods. The queer lived three blocks away from me when he wasn’t afloat in the Atlantic and Gulf. He and I accomplished all the sins that two of us could easily process together, and we were inseparable as besties tended to be.
Frankie was always to the point, unable to beat around the bush. “I slept with Mr. Right last night.”
“How many Mr. Rights does that make it this week?”
He liked his men a little too much. If he remotel
