“Um, you may want to go out,” Tristan said, “To a gay bar or something. Or go see my mom and Auntie M. I need to practice my music now. The last time I practiced here though, the sheriff came over with a noise complaint and the humane society got called on me for abusing cats.” Tristan held his head high at this comment. But then he grinned. “It made the yappy dog go nuts! I might actually miss the little s**t-turd. Oh sorry.”
I hadn’t known there was a gay bar in town. I thought guiltily of Damon, like we were a thing already, but then, what if the “D” letter turned out to be for him? I might as well expand my horizons, just in case, right? “Tris, what’s the name of this place and where is it?”
“Its formal name is The Grotto and it’s about half a mile past the Wayward Inn; don’t let you
