Page 106 of The Sinner's Sanctuary

31

GIBSON

There are very few reasons I would willingly prevent Christian from unzipping my pants, but Fischer is one of them.

When I see his contact lighting up my phone screen, I immediately reach for it, even as Christian kisses my neck and rubs his hand over my crotch in full view of the entire club.

Marianne is bound to find out about us after tonight, but I can’t bring myself to care. I can’t say no to him.

But Fischer wouldn’t call after eleven p.m. for no reason, so I answer the phone. “Hey, what’s up?” I ask.

“She’s suing for full custody,” he says, sounding furious. “Accusing me of abuse.Abuse!”

I move Christian’s hand off my lap as I sit up straight and strain to hear my old friend’s voice over the club’s music. “Nicole? Why?”

“I don’t fucking know.”

“I’ll make some calls,” I tell him. “I’m on my way over.”

A few days ago, Matthew Cannon—Fischer’s brother by adoption—the one I saw making love to him in the room a hundred feet away— took a sudden leave of absence. I’d thoughtnothing of it since I don’t make the schedule, but I wonder if this is related.

“What’s going on?” Christian asks as I pull up my text thread with Marianne.

The Upper East Side is a small world, and while Fischer’s ex Nicole no longer lives here, she did for long enough that someone might know what’s happening. And if anyone can find that person, it’s my wife who knows and loves Fischer as much as I do.

I tap out a text to her explaining the situation and asking her to find out what she can.

To my surprise, she responds quickly. She must be between “appointments.” Her message is quick and to the point.I’m on it. Talk soon.

“I’m sorry,” I tell Christian, who’s still waiting for an answer. “I have to go. My friend needs help.”

“Which friend?” he asks, a bit sharply, like the drinks he’s consumed suddenly evaporated from his bloodstream.

“Fischer. Elliot. You don’t know him. He was my college roommate.”

“Fischer Elliot the news anchor? Of course I know him.”

“You watch cable news?”

“Yeah.”

“When?” I ask, sucked back into Christian’s vortex just like that.

“Like all the time,” he says. “You guys are just friends?”

“Why would you ask that when I just told you?”

“Because he’s really good looking.”

Is he, now?

“He’s straight?” Christian asks.

I grin. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” he says too fast.

“Okay. So, you’ll let me go see him for a little while?”

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