The Face Man (Long Con Adventures) by Amy Lane

Author:Amy Lane [Lane, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 9781641086615
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2023-10-30T18:30:00+00:00

LIFE ON this side of the table was a lot of fun; Marco could admit it. Everybody was complimentary of the food—and not just because the cook was sitting right there—but it was more than that.

The dinner conversation was… well, chaotic, but once Marco caught the rhythm and realized that anybody could join in if they could get a word in edgewise, he was game.

“Hey, Marco,” Grace called from a couple seats down and across. “These little chicken wrap things are delicious! Me likey. I could eat until I can’t fit in ventilation shafts anymore.”

“They’re fajitas, Grace,” his boyfriend corrected, and Marco shot Hunter a grateful look because he hadn’t wanted to do that. “And you know it.”

Grace gave him a sideways glance. “That’s what you say, but I can go into any Thai place in the city, and they’ll give me big sheets of lettuce―”

“Leaves,” Hunter corrected, obviously trying not to smile.

“Tortillas of lettuce, and then they’ll give me a delicious chicken and vegetable mixture to put into those tortillas—”

“Leaves.”

“—of lettuce, and I will wrap them up into a delicious little roll that I can put into my face with my fingers.” Grace demonstrated by popping the last of his fajita into his mouth. “So what’s the difference between them?”

“Lettuce,” Josh said dryly from the other end of the table, and in response, Grace pointed to the bowl of shredded lettuce next to him that had been used to dress his fajita.

“Spices,” Camille said from next to Marco, and he stared at her in surprise because she sounded as absolutely into Grace’s madness as the rest of the family was.

“But spices get traded!” Grace said proudly. “Etienne, you lived in all the places. What did the streets of Morocco smell like?”

“Spices,” Tienne said softly from next to Stirling. His face was pink, Marco noticed, as though he didn’t speak in the group often, and he realized Grace had pulled him in on purpose.

“But were they the same kind of spices?” Molly asked.

“Well, that’s what spice traders are for!” Grace practically crowed.

“Unless we’re in the Star Wars universe,” Stirling said, lobbing a conversational grenade with complacency. “Then it’s all about drugs.”

“Are you saying Han Solo was a drug runner?” Molly asked in outrage.

Stirling gave his sister a level look. “And he shot first.”

“But did that space meth taste good on chicken in a tortilla?” Chuck asked. “That’s all I want to know.”

“Ooh,” Carl’s boyfriend, Michael, cackled. “I’m telling Lucius that you’re a junkie for fajitas!”

Carl regarded his boyfriend—who had apparently arrived while Marco was changing—with affection. “He’s only a space-meth junkie if he needs that fajita to function,” he said, partly as though he was making sure and partly as though he was backing up his buddy.

Michael—smallish, with longish brown hair and wide brown eyes—squinted at Carl skeptically. “Lookit the size of that man’s biceps, Carl. He’s using something to function!”

Chuck cackled and flexed as he sat at the table. “This body is powered by space-meth fajitas!”

“And the workout room has the gas fumes to prove it,” Molly retorted acerbically.

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