To the entire Sourcebooks crew: I know I tossed you a book filled with history, facts, politics, and lots of sensitive topics. And then I made it harder by writing this story in vignettes (!) with no quotation marks (!!). Thanks for loving it anyhow, and for joining me on this journey, particularly to my editor, Annie Berger; editorial assistant, Sarah Kasman; production editor, Cassie Gutman; copy editor, Christa Desir; and marketing guru, Beth Oleniczak; as well as cover artist Adams Carvalho.

Activists Jeremiah Johnson of Treatment Action Group and Jason Walker of VOCAL-NY gave generously of their time and knowledge to create their afterword to this book, and I couldn’t be more appreciative.

Beth Hull and Shawn Barnes championed and strengthened this manuscript in infinite ways from the beginning, and I owe them both so much wine! Thank you for much-needed feedback, encouragement, and hand-holding to: Mia Siegert, Kate Brauning, Rachel Lynn Solomon, Lisa Maxwell, Christopher Tower, Fiona McLaren, Suzanne Kamata (who I also owe for broadening my music tastes so many years ago), Carly Heath, and Carla Bartolomeo (thanks for sharing your name with Michael). Thanks also to the amazing musicians who made my 1980s so special, and to Zudfunck and John Patrick Shanley for unknowingly inspiring Becky’s Dial-a-Daze recordings.

Special thanks to: Tom Wilinsky, my cloud’s silver lining, who stepped in when I needed it most and offered me affirmations and thankfully distracting emails along with his friendship; Tami Davis, for answering odd religious questions in the middle of the night; Emilie Richmond, for being herself; Laurin Buchanan, for all those nights at The Bank and for collective mischief; and to Laura Richards, for having my back.

To Dr. Holly Hill, who taught me about theater, writing, and life (not necessarily in that order), I am always indebted. And, in a tragically belated note of appreciation, thank you to playwright William M. Hoffman, for taking time in 1985 to speak to a young drama critic with too many questions and probably not enough humility, about his (then) newly released AIDS play, As Is.

To my father, Harold Baker, whose devotion to staying informed in a pre-internet world resulted in him buying all of the New York newspapers on a daily basis, thank you for offering me a path to knowledge outside of our suburban town, for all the long talks, and for always being my biggest fan.

To John and Keira: If this book is about anything at its core, it’s about love, bravery, and standing up for the things that matter most. Thank you for each demonstrating those in your own ways and for understanding how important this one is to me. I love you both more than hippopotamuses (but don’t tell the hippopotamuses!).

Staying true to the facts and events of 1983’s New York City was something to which I held myself highly accountable, so I have to confess to moving the release date of Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s “Relax” up six months. Also, for those who go looking, while many of the settings in this book existed (and some exist still), The Echo isn’t one of them. It’s actually a mix of three clubs near to my heart (The Underground and The Bank in New York City, and Neo in Chicago, all of which have since closed).