EpilogueRob
The club was dark. Candlelight pushed away the shadows just enough for people to see each other's faces at the small square tables. On a platform, red lips and dark hair, the singer was giving emotion to a tune that Rob knew by heart, with only a piano as accompaniment. A single long leg ending in a red stiletto escaped the black dress. It was El Hombre que Yo Amo (The man I love), a ballad Alex had chosen for him and was singing right now.
Rob walked to the bar, and around.
The bartender, Genaro, grinned and they shook hands.
“Am I the luckiest bastard on earth or what?” asked Rob, looking at Alex.
“You certainly are,” the young man answered still smiling.
Rob put his elbows on the bar and they both kept religious silence until the song ended.
Applause, whistles and cat
