They were standing in front of that very sculpture—a big and imposing black granite doughnut—when Flynn asked if he could take a picture of Mac, perhaps looking through the doughnut’s hole.
Mac laughed. “Why would you want a picture of me?”
And Flynn felt a little stupid for asking, but he wanted the photo enough that it overrode any embarrassment. “So I can beat off to it later,” Flynn said.
Mac’s mouth dropped open.
“Kidding,” Flynn said, even though he wasn’t so sure he was. “Just want to get a bunch of pics, you know, to remember our outing tonight. I also want to get one of Barley by the reservoir and one of the Space Needle through the doughnut, and of course the sunset is going to be spectacular with the Olympics and all, so I want that too.” He grinned at Mac. “You’re just part
