Opening night. The party after the show. Just the day before Horace had decided he must confront Everett. He had been told Everett was gay, so that was not the problem. But how would he approach him? What would he say? How would he say it? He didn’t want to come off as a country hick, suddenly enamored by the slick and pretty city boy. He didn’t want to seem small before him. He hated him too much.

I’m in love with you.

Excuse me?

I’m in love. With you.

You are? You don’t even know me.

I don’t have to.

Oh, really. I see. And what do you want me to do about it?

I . . . I . . . I don’t know.

You don’t know. You don’t know? Listen, little boy, let me tell you something. Now I don’t know where you got the balls to do something as stupid as to ask me over here and then tell me something as asinine as that. Do you know what kind of trouble I could get you into? I . . . look . . . Really. Look. I’m attached. I’ve got a lover. Okay? It’s not possible. See?

I don’t care.

You don’t . . . you don’t care? Well, that’s too bad, you know. I care.

Look. I’m sorry I told you. I don’t know what I was thinking about. Really. Forget it. Okay?

Fine by me. Take it easy.

The music played on and on. It seemed to live a life of its own, almost supernatural to Horace now in his despair. Drums, horns, rhythms. He suddenly wished he could become a single note of music, reverberate against the walls, and evaporate into the ears, into the ceiling, into the night. The energy he had gathered had gone, leaving him empty and numb.

Why was he crying? Surely not because one actor who was stuck up about the fact that his skin was lighter than tobacco didn’t want to hug and snuggle or tell him Horace was the cranberry of his eye? No. And that was why he was weeping. Because he understood. He had understood even that night in a backward, unconscious way. That is why he had done what he had done, and with such wild, unkempt fury.

Jeremiah was a bullfrog

He was a good friend of mine

I never understood a single word he said

But I helped him drink his wine

And you know he had some mighty fine wine

That night of out-and-out debauchery Horace took advantage of every can of beer, bottle of wine, glass of whiskey . . . and they all laughed and danced and drank.

If I were the king of the world

I tell you what I’ll do

I’d throw away the cars and the bombs and the wars

And make sweet love to you