I laughed out loud at that as another text popped up:Besides, who says you need to compete with this guy? He’s an ex for a reason, right? The fact that you’re thinking about this stuff suggests this is more than a hookup, though. So, did a miracle happen? Did you finally start dating, at the ripe old age of 34?
I had no chance of lying about how old I was with Wyatt, since we were the same age. I wrote:No, we’re not dating. I do like him though, but I’ve already given him plenty of reasons not to trust me, so I doubt this’ll go anywhere.
Wyatt answered:Think positive, dude. You never know. I’m going to let you go in a minute, since you’re busy with this guy. But first I’m going to call you for proof of life.
This was an old joke with us. We did most of our communicating by text, but then he always liked to end with a quick video call, so we could see each other and make sure the other person really was okay—like in those TV crime shows where the kidnappers sent the victim’s family proof their loved one was still alive.
A few seconds later, I answered the call and my friend appeared on the screen. Wyatt was a stocky redhead with a lot of freckles, and he currently looked a bit like a mountain man, since he’d grown a full beard and was way overdue for a haircut. We waved at each other, and I signed, “Love you, bro,” before we ended the call.
Reno came into the room during that last bit and took a seat at the other end of the big sectional. I snapped a photo of him, and when I sent it to Wyatt my friend replied with a string of fire emojis.
As I returned the phone to my pocket, Reno said, “So, you really do have a deaf best friend.”
“Like I’d lie about that. Also, when did I tell you about Wyatt?”
“You explained why you knew sign language and demonstrated a little of it the night we met. You were saying something about being able to keep talking while giving me a blow job.”
He grinned at me, and I said, “Oh. Now I remember.”
“Was your friend born deaf?”
“No. He lost his hearing when he was eight years old.”
“That must have been tough.”
“I’m sure it was.”
“So, you’ve been friends a long time?”
“Since we were fourteen.” I tilted my head and asked, “Why all the interest?”
Reno shrugged and told me, “You don’t seem to have ties to very many people, so I’m curious about the few who made the cut.”
I didn’t really know what to say to that, not that he was wrong. I changed the subject with, “What are we doing now?”
He turned his gaze to his hands, which were splayed out on his knees. “That’s up to you. Here are your two choices. Option A is to continue allowing me to drag you all over Vegas and potentially put you in harm’s way while I deal with Greco. Option B is where I drive you to the airport and buy you a first class ticket back to San Francisco.”
That felt like a kick in the gut, and I muttered, “A.”
He glanced at me and asked, “You’re actually choosing to stay with me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“How about the fact that it could become dangerous?”
“I’ll take my chances.” Reno stared at me for a long moment. To break the silence, I asked, “Why would you even suggest sending me back home? Aren’t you worried I’ll disappear forever with your Rolex?”
“I’m more worried about you getting hurt if Greco tracks me down.”
“But that’s like saying I matter more to you than your most prized possession.”
“You do.”
“And yet, you were willing to shoot me when you caught me stealing it.”