Page 102 of Ghost

He shook his head. “It means people do stupid things, and I have to read about it and hear about it. I’m sick of it.”

“Like what?”

“Shooting up schools. Killing people at concerts. Kidnapping their students and driving across country. You name it.”

“It’s sad.”

“It’s worse than that.”

George walked up beside me and gave me a look. I gave him one right back. “Have a seat.”

“Too busy.” He looked at Porter. “What’ll it be, my man?”

“Sit. Down,” I huffed.

“I’ve got too much going on.”

“You’re all but empty,” I said. “Sit!”

He sat beside me, at the edge of the booth. I elbowed him in the ribs, hoping he’d give the big reveal to Porter. He did nothing but elbow me right back.

“What’s the deal with you two?” Porter asked.

“George has something to tell you.”

“No. I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No. I don’t.”

“I love you, George,” I said.

“I love you, too.”

I let out an exaggerated sigh.

George leaned against the back of the booth, crossed his arms, and huffed out a sigh.

“What?” Porter asked.

“I’m gay,” George whispered.

“Yeah,” Porter said. “I figured you were.”

George looked at me and then at Porter. “What do you mean you figured I was?”

“You’re fifty-three, unmarried, and your garage is the tidiest place I’ve ever been in my life. Then, when I was wiring up the tachometer in your car, I found a business card underneath the carpet below the glove box. It was a manager’s card from one of the bars in town.”

George’s face went stark white. “I wondered where that went.”

“Can I get the double burger and the Abby?” Porter asked. “I’m starving.”

“You’re not bothered by it?” George asked.

Porter’s eyes narrowed. “By what?”

“Me being gay?”