“We have some nachos left.” Carlos motioned to a plate on the table. “But I don’t suppose you’re interested.”“I already ate.” Ian sat at the end of the table.“Anyone we know?” Carlos’s amber eyes twinkled. “Ouch.” He glared at Toni.”

“I'll talk to him before I go," Carlos grumbled."And what about the girls?" Toni asked. "They need you, Carlos.""They need a mother!" Carlos yelled. "And I need a mate."Caitlyn gasped. Hes was looking for a mate? What kind of mate? His gaze shifted towards her, and his eyes glittered with a hard, angry look."You--what?" Toni stepped back, apparently stunned."You heard me," Carlos growled."Ye want to get married?" the Scotsman asked."Don't look so shocked, Ian. Didn't want you want to get married?""Aye, but--""You can't get married," Toni declared. "You're gay."Caitlyn snorted. Were they crazy?Carlos glared at her in the shadows, then shifted his gaze to Toni. "I never said I was gay.""Of course you're gay," she insisted. "I saw you dance the samba in a hot pink sequined thong."Carlos shrugged. "So? You said I was very sexy. You were practically drooling."Ian stiffened. "When was this?""Before I met you," Toni muttered.”

“We sat around the kitchen table picking off of foil-covered plates. Conrad kept sneaking looks at me, and every time I looked back, he looked away. I'm right here, I wanted to tell him. I'm still here.”

“I met a man from Columbia who had a table for a back. I asked if it was a coffee table. He got offended and thought I was stereotyping him. How was I supposed to know it was a Three-drawer Wuchow Console Table?”

“Did you and dad eat the raw-violi I left in the fridge?”“Sort of. I mean, we considered eating it. It made its way onto the table. But we ended up having the rest of the rawkin’ raw-sagna instead. (Rawkin’ raw-sagna: a sorry excuse for a real lasagna made with uncooked squash slices, tomatoes, and cashew paste, and served on—what else?—Elvis dinner plates). I don’t have the heart to tell her that dad chucked both dinners and ordered us a pizza.”

“Then what sport do you play?"Carlos puts down his food. Oh, no. He's got a rebellious gleam in his eye as he says, "The horizontal tango."-------------------------------------------"Dancing really isn't a sport," Brandon tells Carlos, oblivious to the shock at the rest of the table."It is when I do it," Carlos says.-------------------------------------------Brandon turns to my dad with big, innocent eyes."Daddy, do YOU know how to do the horizontal tango?”