by Max Walker
“Tap that!”
“Rock on, bro!”
“Woohoo! Get it!”
“Umm… should we bow?” I asked in a stage whisper as the bus slowly drove by in the mild traffic. Music was blaring from the bus out of a much better sound system than the souvenir store had.
“Let’s give them an encore,” Mark said, whipping me back into his arms and locking his lips on mine again, pressing his strong body up against me as his arms wrapped around me. Instantly, the cheers got even louder. It was… actually really fucking hot. My hands came up to grab Mark’s face, allowing me to direct the kiss. I moved my hands up, my fingers sliding through his soft hair. He moaned into the kiss and almost undid me right fucking there. I instantly got hard and pressed myself onto Mark, which ended up pushing us both backward. Thankfully, there was a wall behind Mark, which he fell against with a grunt-moan hybrid. Before I knew it, Mark’s hand was on my ass, squeezing and kneading.
“Fuck yeah, gay love, fuck yeah!”
“Twenty-eighteen, motherfuckers!”
“I voted Democratic! My parents don’t know!”
That last one sounded a little like a confession that needed to happen for whatever boat shoe–wearing frat boy went against their rich Republican parents’ wishes. And good for them!
Our kiss simmered down before our impromptu show got bumped up to an X rating. The bus got lost in the crowd of Times Square farther down, and the drunken cheers ceased. Although, it’s said that if you go back to that same spot and lift an old Sperry shoe to your ear, you’ll be able to hear the echoes of “fuck yeah, gay love, fuck yeah!”
12 Mark Masters
The crowds that filled Times Square were all walking with their heads (and phones) tilted up toward the big bright billboards and oversized storefronts. There were a few that were more focused on the various groups of street performers, like the lady standing statue still and painted to look like the Statue of Liberty, and some other people focused on the selfies they were snapping before uploading to make sure everyone in their social circles could know they were vacationing. I mean, if a selfie wasn’t taken and posted, did a vacation even happen?
Anyways, I wasn’t focused on any of that. All I could think about was the man who was currently walking by my side, his fingers knotted through mine, our shoulders bumping and his smile lighting up brighter than the ad for Frozen the Musical. Next to it was a bright pink ad for a new rom-com everyone had been raving about: Love Me, Silly.
I was feeling like a kid again, running through a city that felt so massive, so full of endless adventures. I hadn’t had this much fun since… damn, I don’t even know since when. I was usually working on a case and then just going home to spend a mundane afternoon with Chris, watching dumb TV shows. But with Liam, the last thing I wanted to do was sit and watch TV. Although I was sure I’d enjoy that with him, too. Except when Liam grabbed my hand, it threw me on an oxytocin-filled roller-coaster ride that made me want to go out and experience everything I could with him.
I could instantly tell Liam was internally freaking out, so I made sure to take control and act cool about it, even though I was probably feeling the same way. Then there was the kiss that I think initiated us into a fraternity?—still not sure on that one, but they were definitely cheering for us, and that was something else. Never did I think I’d have a tour-converted-party bus full of drunk college kids clapping and cheering for a kiss between me and my best friend.
“Okay,” Liam said as we dodged a group of selfie-stick-holding tourists walking backward for some odd reason. “Let’s make a left here, and then we should be like five minutes from where I want to take you.”
“I think I know where we’re heading,” I said, grinning. If I was right, then it was somewhere I hadn’t been in years. Was it still even around?
“I thought you would,” Liam said. “We only spent pretty much every Saturday morning there.”
Yup, I was right. “Lucy’s Donut Palace,” I said, a ton of memories filling me and make me feel all kinds of warm. “She’d have our favorite donuts fresh and out on plates for when we’d get there. Then we’d sit by the window and play Pokémon for hours.”
“Shit,” Liam said, “those were the good ol’ days, huh? When we didn’t even know taxes existed, mac and cheese had all our essential vitamins and nutrients, and our biggest problem was whether or not our Poké-team was strong enough to take on the elite four.”
“They were good, for sure, but I think we can make these days even better.” I looked to Liam, his warm hazel eyes catching the pink neon lighting from a nearby storefront.
“I think so, too,” Liam said, those beautiful eyes getting smaller as he smiled. “My Charizard could still probably beat your entire Pokémon team single-handedly, though. Just saying.” Liam shrugged and then laughed.
“Bullshit. I had a killer team. Besides, everyone knows Blastoise is the best.”
“He’s an oversized turtle; give me the fire-breathing dragon any day.”
“An oversized turtle with tank guns on his shell and a badass attitude.”
We both laughed, our hands still in the other’s. I felt so connected to Liam in that moment, beyond any connection I thought I had felt with… well, with anyone if I were being honest.
“So what happened to that Blastoise-loving kid when I moved away?” Liam asked, the conversation taking a notable shift away from lighthearted memories to a territory that held much more shadow than light.
“He was pretty messed up for a bit,” I said. “You were my closest friend—pretty much my only friend. You were always better about that. You had a way of making friends and talking to people, but I just had you. Then you moved across the country, before we had unlimited texts or Facebook or anything to make it a little easier. So I had to adjust, but it was a rough few weeks at first.”
“I was going through it, too,” Liam said, his hand gently squeezing mine. “We talked a few times on the phone, but I vividly remember how that hurt me more than it made me feel better. It made me think about how I couldn’t just walk over to your place anymore, and so I selfishly slowed down on the calls. I didn’t want to draw the pain out any longer than I thought it had to be.”
“I think we did the same thing, then. I… well, I cried after the first few times we talked. I obviously didn’t really understand the full extent of my emotions back then, but it was wrecking me. I channeled a lot of it into school and sports. I joined the soccer team and then did basketball, and that helped me make friends, but I never got as close to anyone the way I had with you.”
“Same,” Liam said. “Did you come out in high school?”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t until my sophomore year of college that I admitted to myself that my intense connection with you meant so much more. I was always attracted to guys—you especially—but I never took the full leap and told myself I was gay until college. I dated a few girls before I came out, but none of them ever worked out.” I lifted our hands in the air. “Obviously.”
Liam laughed at that. “Your experience is a little different than mine. I was pretty much pushed out of the closet when my teacher snatched a short story I had been writing during class. It was math class, so clearly a huge page of words was a red flag. She thought I was writing a note, and she did the classic ‘since it’s so important, why don’t you stand up to the class and read it out loud, Liam.’ When I refused, she took the page and started to read it herself. Three sentences was all it took for her and the entire class to realize I was in the midst of writing an erotic short story about Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt falling for each other.”
I snorted at that. “Sorry, sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing. It’s just, your imagination is something else. Guess that’s what makes you such an incredible director.”
“It was a cute pair in my story, okay? Plus, I always like to start things off with a bang, so you know Mr. Cruise and Mr. Pitt weren’t exactly drinking tea and talking craft.”
&n
bsp; “And she read it out loud?”
“Mhmm. So yeah, the entire school knew after third period. Thankfully, I was pretty good with the in crowd and that gave me some clout, so I can’t say I was too bullied. There were a few random f-bombs dropped in the hallway from the guys that clearly hated themselves more than anyone else, and still those definitely hurt, but the amount of support I had outweighed the hate. It helped that the high school was in a progressive part of Los Angeles—if I were in somewhere like Kentucky, I have a feeling things would have been very different.”
“And did anyone ever ask for you to finish the story?”
It was Liam’s turn to snort. “Bah, no. I wasn’t made fun of for being gay, but I was definitely teased for my protagonist choices.” We turned one other corner, and I could see the donut shop down the street. It felt like I had walked out of a time capsule. There were a few different businesses on the street, but for the most part, everything looked just like it had thirteen-something years ago. Even the few tags of graffiti seemed unchanged, although I knew that had to be my brain playing tricks on me.
“Yeah, I was never really bashed during school. It was when I started working on the police force that things took a turn. I had gone in as an out gay man and felt myself starting to go back in the closet. It was really fucked-up. At first it wasn’t even directed toward me, the hate. I’d just overhear conversations, and the way these guys would talk about gay people, it was terrible. There were so many of them, too. If I stood up to one, I’d end up fighting against the entire precinct.”
“Shit… I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mark.”
‘It wasn’t a good situation, but it did lead me to Stonewall. Well, Zane led me. He walked into the precinct one day like a fireball. He was looking for information on a missing person’s case, and we got to talking. I saw how passionate he was about helping the people in the community that sometimes need the most help and get it the least. I quit that same day and was hired by Zane after I got my PI license.”
We were almost at the front of the donut shop. There were a couple donut-shaped tables in the front, with pink-and-blue frosted donut decals stuck on top of each table.
“And you’ve been happy since then?”
“Oh yeah, I love my job. Even when it’s not a huge case, I’m just happy to help anyone with their problems.”
“You’re definitely helping with mine.” Liam cast his gaze down to the street as we walked. Our pace was slow, both of us seeming to enjoy the night and each other.
“I’m trying my hardest. I hired a data scrubber this morning. He says he might be able to trace the origin of the anonymous email, which would be big. I’m also waiting to hear back from a few people who might have a deeper look into Johnny’s life. Plus, the toxicology reports and suicide note still need to make it to my desk.”
“Good. I just want that rat to get what he deserves. I’m also getting a little antsy. I want to get back behind a camera. I want to be on set, framing shots, working with actors and writers, telling stories. Big ones. But now I feel like my hands are pretty much tied behind my back.”
I pursed my lips, hating that Liam’s creative voice was being silenced. “You’ll be working soon, sitting on that tall director’s chair with your name written on it, calling out all the shots. There’ll be a Liam Wolfe movie soon, or there’ll be riots on the street. I’m calling it now.”
“Pftt, yeah, we’ll see. It’s crazy how fast the public can turn on you on just a whisper of a false allegation. But still, I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am,” I said. That was when my detective side picked up on a question mark. Something about Liam’s life that didn’t fully make sense, and I hadn’t really thought much about it until now that we were talking about Liam’s career.
“Question,” I said, just as we reached the front of the donut shop. The lights were on and shining through the big glass windows, decorated in gel stickers that looked like different colored sprinkles. “Isn’t it hard being a big-time Hollywood director and being based in New York City? Why aren’t you living out in LA?”
I was expecting a simple answer, nothing crazy. Maybe he just liked the NYC skyline more than he liked the LA palm trees, or maybe he was a fan of the Yankees and wanted to be around for the games. Something simple. I wasn’t expecting Liam to open and close his mouth like a fish gasping for air before he turned his eyes down to the floor in a clear display of discomfort with the question. I felt a pang of concern run through me without even really knowing why. I just knew something was wrong in the way he reacted, and I wanted to get to the bottom of it, only so I could help him deal with whatever it was.
And that was when someone shrieked. “Oh my dear fucking Dolly Parton, if it isn’t my two absolute favorite boys!”
I only knew one person in this world who’d use Dolly Parton’s name like that. Lucy Hynes was coming out of her donut shop with her arms spread wide and her pink apron coated in flour.
13 Liam Wolfe
Mark’s question had thrown me completely off balance. I was having such a great time with him, but the question instantly threw me into a negative headspace. I was about to open up and share my pain with him, but at that exact moment, I heard an all-too-familiar voice ring out from the open door to the donut shop. I looked up from the floor to see a head of curly hair, dyed a bright red, coming toward me, attached to a face that was scrunched up into pure joy.
It was Mama Lucy.
I knew I would have to pick up where we left off, but for now, seeing Mama Lucy with a big smile that wrinkled her eyes gave me the dose of positivity I needed to avoid falling into a depressing pit. She came over and hugged us both, wrapping her small arms around us and drawing us in together.
“I can’t believe it. Oh my dear Parton, look at you two! Did you both step right off a cover shoot for GQ? Jeez, I can’t get over this.”
“And look at you!” I said, reaching out to touch her elbow. “You still look the same since I last saw you… what was it, like fourteen, fifteen years now?”
“I don’t even want to put a number on it.” She waved her hands in the air, a few silver bracelets clicking on her tiny wrist.
“We would have dropped by sooner, but I’ve been crazy busy with work and so has Mark.”
Plus, seeing you without Mark by my side would have been too painful.
Mama Lucy was such a symbol of our childhood that I knew I couldn’t see her without getting thrown into a depressing spiral of nostalgia. But now that Mark was here, I could look into Mama Lucy’s eyes without feeling the need to cry about a lost connection from so long ago.
“Come in, come. I’m just about to close up shop, but you two are allowed in whenever you get a donut craving, my dears.” She turned and stopped, holding her hands out behind her. Mark and I looked at each other, smiled, and grabbed a hand, letting Mama Lucy lead us into her store.
Inside, the donut shop was almost exactly as I remembered it, down to the table-and-chair placements around the small storefront. There were glass displays full of all different kinds of donuts, from themed superhero ones to weird exotic ones that had flavors like honey and bacon or green tea and dragon fruit. It was no wonder why Lucy’s donut shop had lasted through the test of time while other business shuttered up. She was always trying something new and making sure everyone who came in for a donut left with a big sugary grin on their faces.
We followed her past the counter and into the back room, where there were tables covered in ingredients, shelves upon shelves of other ingredients, a few ovens, refrigerators, and a few inspirational posters hung up—the kind you’d see in a seventh grade classroom, with the tiger and the waterfall and the buzzwords printed underneath.
It felt a little like stepping back inside your home after being away on an extended vacation. There were a few employees cleaning up for the day, and they all seemed as cheery and upbeat as Lucy. She ran a tight ship, but it was clear that her style was more along the lines
of a cruise ship than a pirate ship.
“Everyone, this is Liam and Marky Mark, my two favorite boys. They disappeared on me years ago, and now they just pop up out of the blue, holding hands and… oh wait, what is that I hear?” She put a hand up to her ear. “Is that… oh my Dolly Parton! I think I hear wedding bells!”
We both laughed at that. Mama Lucy was always pushing us together, even as kids. Back then I thought she was just making sure we both had a good friend to have each other’s back, but maybe she had seen something else between us. Something we had been far too afraid to admit to anyone until the door closed on us.
Thank God that door reopened.
“This is still very new,” I said, squeezing Mark’s hand, “and I’m loving every second of it.”
“Oh jeez, okay, you both need to sit those happy little asses down and give me all the details.” She turned and went for a tray of beautifully decorated donuts. Some looked like bright cartoon flowers, others just had delicately drawn swirls and shapes on them. One donut had white frosting with colorful squares, circles, and triangles painted on, making it look like an art piece straight out of the eighties.
She brought the tray over to where we sat so we could each have a donut. Mark went straight for the chocolate donut made to look like a tiny garden was growing out of the frosting. As I was looking for my chosen one, we got into talking about how Mark and I had reconnected and how the sparks were there from the start. I ended up choosing the eighties-inspired donut, quickly finding out it was jelly filled even though it was shaped like a regular donut.
Mama Lucy still had tricks up her sleeve. It also tasted like a goddamn dream. I had to have a second one before we even finished our story, which was fine—whatever, I could do an extra five minutes on the StairMaster. If anything the jelly was going straight to my ass, and the way Mark had grabbed it earlier, I had a feeling he would appreciate a thick bottom.