“Oh, Daddy,” Paul says. “Let’s not scare Tyson.”

“It’s just him and Kori?” Charlie asks.

Paul shakes his head. “No. Tyson’s boyfriend is here too. You should see him, Charlie. He’s bigger than Darren. I think he was injected with some kind of radioactive material when he was a kid and now he’s all Hulked out. His veins have veins. I work out for six months and the only thing I have to show for it is rash on my butt crack from where I sweat too much.”

“Which one is he?” Charlie asks, leaning over the railing. “I see Vince… and Darren… and Kori… and a brick wall with legs….” He waves and smiles. I follow his line of sight and see everyone from our group waving back up at us.

“Brick wall with legs,” Paul says.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say. “Oh, and put talcum powder in your butt crack before you work out. You won’t get the rash.”

“Not your boyfriend?” Paul asks, sounding shocked. “You guys just fucking or something?”

My face burns. “No, we’re not fucking.”

“Wow, that’s a shame.”

“He’s not gay.” You sure about that?

Paul laughs. “Sure, Ty.”

“He’s not.” Well. Maybe.

He stops laughing. “Whoa. Wait. You’re serious?”

“Uh, yes? Yes. He’s my best friend.” Right? Still? “Well, we used to be best friends. There was… stuff… that happened.” Oh, way to sound sane. Good job! “I’d know if he liked…. We… oh, never mind!”

“Oh you poor, blind twinkie,” Paul says sadly as he shakes his head. “Unrequited love is the hardest kind.”

“It’s not unrequited!”

“Oh, he loves you back? Then what’s the issue?”

“I’m not… we’re…,” I sputter. “There’s no basis for… what….”

“Funny,” Charlie says. “I’m getting a weird little flash of déjà vu here. I’ve only seen your—how did you put it?—used-to-be best friend for a minute, and he hasn’t taken his eyes off you. Not even when Vince there is talking to him.”

I look down. In the bright flashes of light, in the pounding of the bass, my gaze locks onto Dom’s. He says something to Vince, but he never breaks our gaze. I’m the one who looks away.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” I say.

“Nice try, Tyson,” Paul says. “But I already went that route up here. That shit don’t fly no more.”

“Good boy,” Charlie says with a smile. “That shit definitely don’t fly.”

“He’s not gay?” Paul asks me.

“No,” I say firmly, even if I don’t quite believe my own words.

“Oh, so you’ve asked him?”

“Well… no.”

“Huh. So you just assumed, huh?”

“He was married! He has a son!”

“Oh, right,” Paul says, rolling his eyes. “Because he had some vaginal meanderings and spawned the fruit of his loins, he can’t possibly want to plow you like a field. There’s this happening new craze. Maybe you’ve heard of it. It’s called bisexuality.”

“Or latent homosexuality,” Charlie says. “I didn’t come out until I was in my forties. Married, kids, the whole nine yards. They… they didn’t take it well. Haven’t heard from ’em in years.” He looks down at the dance floor below. Paul reaches over and takes his hand and squeezes it. Suddenly, all my problems seem minute in comparison.