“Oh, here we go.” Noah groaned. “Gonna tell me to go to college, make something of myself?”
“A man’s worth is not based on the sum of his degrees. You can have a formidable career without one.” Alistair picked the bacon out of the pan and set it aside to drain.
“Did you go to college?”
“No.”
“Wow. Well, how’d you learn all that business stuff?”
“Trial and error, more error, and reading many, many books.” Alistair poured off some of the grease from the pan into a cup by the sink, returning to place the pan on the stove and pour the eggs in.
“Is it true you used to own some fancy gay bar back in Strassen Springs?” Noah reached over to snag a piece of bacon.
Alistair allowed the theft, though he smirked as if to say he could have stopped Noah had he wanted to. “And who have you been talking to, hmm?”
“Junior. He’s got a big mouth.”
“I did own a bar, yes.” Alistair stirred the eggs around in the pan with a spatula. “I have owned several and still do.”
“Did it really burn down?” Noah crunched down on the bacon.
“It did.”
“What happened?”
“A fire.” Alistair winked.
“You’re such a fuckin’ pain in the ass.”
“Language.”
Noah swallowed his bite of bacon, eyeing Alistair thoughtfully. “This have something to do with your Mr. Special?”
Alistair stopped stirring the eggs. “Mm, and how have you come to that conclusion?”
“Because you don’t wanna talk about either fuckin’ one.” Noah finished his bacon and held his head high. “Stands to reason maybe they’re connected, huh?”
“Maybe you’ll have a career as a private investigator,” Alistair mused, resuming cooking. “You’re quite clever.”
“So, I’m right?” Noah beamed.
“I suppose we’ll never know.”
“Oh, come on!”
“Drop it, dear Noah.”
“You know the more you tell me to drop it, the more I wanna know, right?”
Alistair rolled his eyes and plated the eggs with some bacon. He slid the plate in front of Noah and crossed his arms. “Eat. Then we’re going back to bed.”
Raising his fork, Noah said, “You’re lucky I’m hungry, so I don’t feel like fightin’ with you right now.” He took a bite and grinned shyly. “Can I have some ketchup?”
Alistair looked offended. “Ketchup? For what?”
“For my eggs.”
“Heathen.”
