“Same,” Gabe says, his expression saying he holds the winning lottery ticket in his giant mitts. “I’d cook a pot roast for her.”

“And if she’s vegan?” I ask, popping my green olive into my mouth.

Gabe pales.

“Bottom line…” Banks doesn’t look happy about what’s he’s going to say. “Social media leaves too much up to chance. I think it has to be in person.”

I pause mid-chew. “You’re saying we should simply show up at the Gotham Times?”

“She’s going to hate that,” Gabe and Banks say in unison.

“Yeah, she will,” Banks continues, turning his beer in circles on the table. “But I genuinely think we’ve seen the last of her otherwise.”

“He’s right,” I find myself saying. For the life of me, I can’t see Elise answering a Facebook message and agreeing to meet with us. “So we go to the newspaper and…ask her to choose. Is that your shite plan? Because I fancy keeping my balls.”

Banks is silent for long moments. “I don’t know. Should we ask her to choose?”

Gabe leans forward, head tilted like he’s trying to hear a song playing on the radio at low volume. “What’s the other option?”

A muscle jumps in Banks’s cheek. “We don’t.”

“We don’t see her again at all?” Gabe sputters.

“My God, man, you’re thick,” I groan, massaging the bridge of my nose.

“No, Gabe. We don’t ask her to choose.” Banks is visibly surprised he said it out loud, the bronze of his neck darkening slightly. “Look, I coach a team. We have two players I consider all-stars, but they can’t win the game alone. The team behind them—that’s what makes them great. When they try to be heroes and score without that supporting cast, that’s when they fail, right?” He pauses. “What if…there was something about us as a whole that appealed to Elise? Not only as…individuals.”

We’re all silent for a moment and I know what they’re thinking about. They’re replaying how she turned to putty as soon as we were all surrounding her. Touching her. When the four of us connected, a tangible change took place in her. In her energy. In the air. “She enjoyed having triple the attention and fuck, she deserves it,” I say without thinking.

Gabe is shaking his head. “I don’t know how to do that. One of her, three of us.”

“You were doing it,” I point out.

The foreman drains his beer.

“This might be a good time to address everyone’s sexual preferences,” I say. “I’ve experimented with men, but it’s the pussy life for me. What about you two?”

“Straight,” Banks says.

Gabe stares over my shoulder, like he’s trying put a puzzle together. How does this guy even tie his shoelaces? “A guy on my crew is gay.”

I stare. “Yeah, that doesn’t count.”

“I’m straight.”

“Okay, fine,” I say, in my element now. “So this is just about Elise. We’re all about her pleasure. And getting pleasure from her.”

Gabe shifts in his booth, very obviously still dealing with his erection. “Yeah.”