“Bunny Slippers watched my appraisal for at least a fullminute before clasping his hands and resting them on the table.“You stand in the doorway, clothes sticking to you like you justgot out of the shower and didn’t dry off.” I hadn’t dried offactually. “Your hair is wet like it’s been raining, but it’s nearninety outside. You glare at me for a good ten minutes beforeyou come over. Sit across from me in my booth, without aninvitation. Don’t introduce yourself. Don’t say hello. Youannounce you’re not gay, but that I made you gay, and I amconfusing you?Well, when he said it like that.”

“I like you,” I said honestly. “Even though you’re probably a criminal and are going to get me thrown off the force. And you kicked me. Broke my nose. Made me gay and refused to kiss me.”

“Whiskey, glass, pour, toss back, glare. Repeat. “Cop out,” I slurred in retaliation, pointing the empty glass at Peter.“Don’t get drunk. Fuck. I need you sober,” he yelled, snatching the glass out of my hand.“There’s the problem right there. You need me sober. You need my help. You need something from me.” I laughed, tossing the bottle on the sofa, ignoring the glug glug glug as it emptied over my cushions. “And I just need you.”“Need me to what?” He asked with a huff, tipping the bottle right-side up.“Nothing. I just need you,” I whispered and flopped into a nearby recliner.”

“Ask me for money, Peter.” I grabbed his wrists and pushed him against the wall.He looked everywhere but at me, no attempt to free himself. He was definitely stronger than I, but right that second I didn’t care if he was being patronizing. If it forced him to answer me, then patronizing I’d take.“No,” he murmured.“Ask me for money, goddamn you.” I punctuated it with a slam of his wrists, hard enough to jar, but not painful—I hoped. The next time my shirt wouldn’t be there to cushion it. I wasthat pissed.“I have!” He spat back, easily extricating his hands and pushing me away. I grabbed his arm, turning him around.“For Cai. For sex. Not for you. You’d rather go fuck a bunch of strangers—”“I don’t fuck anyone but Darryl anymore,” he denied. “It’s just a show for a bunch of voyeurs. No one gets hurt.”“I get hurt!”“I don’t have any other way, Austin.”“You have me. Ask me,” I said, hating the pleading sound in my voice.“No.”“Jesus Christ, why the fuck not?”“Because I don’t want you to be a fucking trick!” The shout was so loud I felt the vibrations along my spine.”

“Out of curiosity, when do I grow up and become a fullfledgedman with a penis?”“When words like ‘hump day’ don’t make you giggle like atwelve-year-old,” he retorted, blowing smoke my way.“Wow, that long?”

“Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be.Peter breathed into the handset for about two minutes. I began wondering if he was about to hang up, or had fallen asleep, when he answered. "You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it. And then he hung up before I could ask him to repeat himself.I fell asleep, grinning, with the phone still clutched in my hand and my milk souring on the coffee table.”

“He's painting your living room as a thank you.""Huh. My decorator might screech, but I'm okay with that.""Your decorator? Seriously? How did you not know you were gay?”