Chapter 6
Malcolm paced his apartment. He kept glancing at the clock on the wall, trying to decide if it was still too early to try calling Dusty again. He’d tried all day and all night Sunday and had never reached him.
He realized Dusty probably worked but he hadn’t returned any of Malcolm’s messages and he’d called their apartment long after Dusty should have been home.
Finally, he couldn’t stand it. It was only seven California time and he knew Dusty would still be asleep at that time, but he couldn’t wait anymore. He dialed his home number.
“Mmello,” Dusty’s tired, sleep voice answered.
Malcolm breathed a sigh of relief at hearing his lover’s voice. He sat on the edge of the ratty old sofa he and Randy and bought from a secondhand store. “It’s me.”
“Oh.” He heard the creek of the
