Chapter 11
A light-haired man was rubbing Clay’s shoulders and whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. I assumed the other man was Dean. I certainly hopedthe other man was Dean. Neither man was dressed for the wedding. Dean was wearing jeans and a Cubs T-shirt, and Clay had on khakis and a white polo shirt. When both of them looked at me, I felt like turning around and going out the way I’d come in. I breathed a sigh of relief that at least I hadn’t walked in while they were fucking or blowing each other. A backrub, while intimate, wasn’t the end of the world.
“Hey, Patrick,” Clay said. “This is Dean.”