Another night in the Castro, where the party never ended. Yet it seemed to Bill that much of the levity had gone out of the street, replaced by darker notes of anxiety and paranoia. Only a year earlier, Harvey Milk had been assassinated and the previous May, after the verdict was announced virtually acquitting his murderer, a gay riot at city hall was answered by a police riot on Castro Street. Gay bashings were on the rise and even as he headed down brightly lit 18th Street toward home, he remained on alert, scanning the sidewalk ahead of him and listening for footsteps behind him.

He was passing Badlands when the door swung open and the bouncer forcibly escorted a tall, skinny boy onto the sidewalk saying, “Come back when you’re legal, kid.” The boy staggered into Bill’s path, stumbled, and reeking of beer and pot, fell into Bill’s arms.

“Hi!” he said brightly, throwing his arms around Bill as if the collision was an intentional embrace. His cheek, smooth and almost feverishly hot, brushed Bill’s. He was all arms and legs in baggy, no label jeans and an SF State sweatshirt. He had, Bill noticed, the most adorable, oversized ears. Bill freed himself from the boy’s sloppy embrace and stood him against the wall. The boy’s stuporous grin and glazed eyes indicated either that he was extremely drunk or an inexperienced drinker. Since he looked like he was in high school, Bill guessed the latter.

“Hey,” he said. “Look at me. What’s your name?”

“Nick,” the boy said. “Wow, you look just like a Ken doll! I had a Ken doll,” the boy confided. “I used to sleep with him. Can I sleep with you?”

“Uh, no. How old are you?”

“Twenty-one!”

“Bullshit.”

The boy grinned and shrugged. “Eighteen.”

“Where do you live?”

“Um, in the dorms at State,” he smiled crookedly. “But we can’t go there. I have a roommate.”

“Are you alone, or do you have some friends around here who can take you home?”

He gave an elaborate shrug. “They’re still at the party.”

“Where’s the party?”

He grinned again. “I don’t remember, Ken.”

“My name is Bill,” he said. “Did you drive here from State?”

He shook his head violently. “Um, I don’t have a car. Jimmy drove.”

He started to slide down the wall. Bill grabbed him by his armpits and pulled him up.

“Shit,” Bill muttered. “You are royally drunk. You can’t be wandering around the Castro like this. People are getting jumped.”

“Okay,” Nick said. He broke into another big grin. “I have an idea, Bill. Let’s go to your place.”

“That’s not going to happen. Can you walk?”

“Since I was two years old,” Nick replied with a giggle.

In spite of himself, Bill laughed. “Smart ass. Put your arm around my shoulders.”