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Summary
“What’s this?” Dean holds up the offending piece of paper and Aaron almost snatches it right back. Big dumb closeted weirdo, what the fuck does he think it is?
“It’s a phone number. You use it. To call people.” He says, slow and enunciated, and Dean’s mouth closes.
“Huh.” He says. “So – earlier –?”
“I was tailing you.” Aaron says, exasperated already. The big guy is flushing red, holding the paper as if it’s going to explode, between his thumb and pointer finger. “But you seemed interested, so.” He paused. “You’re Jewish, right?”
Dean stutters. Aaron rolls his eyes. “That was a joke. Call me. You know, if you ever talk again.” He turns and walks away from the car, hands in his pockets.