“Jesus Christ.”

“You’re married?” Jack flicked his cigarette onto the sunken bricks. Making a sound of disgust, he stood.

“Just hold on, ok? Just hold on. Shaw, you are absolutely un-fucking-believable.” He grabbed the back of Shaw’s neck—tonight, he wore his hair tied up into a bun, leaving the long, smooth lines of his neck visible—and kicked a crate up against the dumpster. “Sit. Head between your legs. Don’t talk. I said don’t talk.”

Shaw seemed to think better of it and let his head hang between his legs.

By the time North turned around, Jack was already pulling open the fire door. North caught his upper arm.

“Dude, you’re married. I’m not getting into that kind of shit.”

“I told you I just want to talk. I’ve got a few questions. I’ll make it worth your while.” Although, North thought, he could have gotten the information for free if Shaw hadn’t picked the worst possible time to reinvent himself as a whiskey drinker. When Jack opened his mouth, North said, “Cash. No funny business, I promise.”

Jack’s face settled into a kind of sullen agreement. “I’ve got to get back in there soon.”

“A couple of guys were here Saturday night. Were you working?”

Jack’s chin gave a sharp dip.

“All night?”

“Basically.”

“One of them was really good looking. Like you, only blond. Thinner than you.”

“A twink?”

“He could play one on TV. He said he sat at the bar. He said a bunch of guys were buying him drinks.”

“It’s not really a gay bar. You know that, right?”

“Do you remember this guy? He’s probably around your age. Maybe he even made a pass at you.” North tightened his grip around Jack’s upper arm, let a smile flow onto his face. “Nice-looking guy like you, that probably explains why he sat at the bar all night.”

Jack was twenty-two. And he was pretty. And he was a Chouteau College boy, and North knew enough about those boys to fill a library shelf. The sullenness washed off Jack’s face. In its place came the familiar mixture of gratification and, as his eyes cut to North, desire. “Yeah, I mean, I think I know who you’re talking about. He was, I mean, like you said, really hot. But he wasn’t alone.”

“Never? Not at the beginning of the night?”

“Maybe. Hey, so, like, are you and your husband doing like an open thing, is that why you’re with this guy? Because I mean, I’m not a cheater, but if you’re, I mean, if you’re both—”

“Tuck would literally cut off my balls. I need you to focus. Not at the beginning of the night? He wasn’t alone?”

“I don’t know, honestly. But a lot of the night, there was a guy sitting by him. Talking to him. A lot. I mean, there were other guys who wanted to buy him drinks, and I only remember because one time the blond guy just shook his head, so I told the guy who had paid for it and he told me I could have it. I probably shouldn’t have, but I did. But like, nothing? Like, not even a blowjob? Because we could—”