In the middle of the circle of fraternity boys, a pair of legs had been hoisted. As the boys whooped and cheered, the legs came together, topped by a pair of sneakers, their toes aimed at the ceiling. Even in the swirl of colored lights, I could see that the sneakers were red, with white stripes. The boys clapped and backed away to make room, and there was Margolis, his hands gripping the edges of a table, his arms bulging from his wrists to his shoulders.

I looked back at the blond sitting at the bar. He made two distinct claps with his hands. Then he turned abruptly away from the spectacle and from the video screen, planting his elbows on either side of his glass, and at the same moment that he noticed me, I recognized him.

I had the crazy notion that he was in disguise, and was following me. He wasn’t. He was just as surprised to see me as I was him, and I’d like to think that if I hadn’t moved, he would have come over to where I was standing. But it suddenly became important for me to be the one who approached first. When I reached the corner of the bar, Frankie spoke, and I could tell the moment he did that he was a little drunk. “Are you lost?”

“No. What do you think of that?” I indicated the inverted Margolis.

“I think he’s a closet case.”

The remark stung, and was probably meant to. “He’s not a closet case.”

“Well, he’s not out. Not in khakis and a tank top, sorry.”

“Maybe he’s straight. Is that even a possibility?”

“Nope.” Frankie stared forward now. Behind him, Margolis walked his hands around the table, his shoes turning like a pair of giraffe heads.

“It’s really easy for you, isn’t it? You practically sent a telegram ahead of your birth telling everyone you’re gay, and the rest of us—” I stopped myself.

He glanced up. “Yes?”

“That guy happens to be a friend of mine,” I said. “I happen to know him.”

“Go back to what you were saying about ‘the rest of us.’ ”

“A good friend of mine,” I said, sounding ridiculous even to myself. “Why do you want to needle me? Why are you such a prince with everyone else, but all you want to do with me is poke, poke, poke?”

He looked forward again and shrugged. “I like you best.”

Margolis dropped his legs and dismounted the table without much grace. One of his friends handed him a beer. Another handed him his glasses.

Watching him, and keeping Frankie in the corner of my eye, I said, “Then let me go at my own pace.”

He sipped through the little red straw in his glass. “I will if you will.”

“That’s not the same. What you’re doing is dangerous. I’m genuinely worried about you.”