Part 27 (2/2)

”Why the b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l would I say it if I wasn't sure? The only reason I

could make it with Alice Ridgeway was because I was thinking of her

brother.”

Now that was disgusting, Brian thought, but kept his feelings to

himself. They'd been friends for more than six years, had stood up for

each other, lied for each other, had shared dreams and secrets. Brian

struck another match, lit the cigarette and pondered.

”Well, I suppose if you're made that way, then you're made that way.

Nothing to slit your wrists over.”

”You're not queer.”

”No.” He fervently hoped not-and vowed to spend the next few weeks

proving it to himself with every girl he could charm into spreading her

legs. No, he wasn't queer, he a.s.sured himself The s.e.xual acrobatics

he'd experienced with Jane Palmer should have been a good indication of

his preferences. Thinking of her, he hardened and s.h.i.+fted his legs. It

wasn't the time to get h.o.r.n.y, but to think of Johnno's problem.

”Lots of people are queer,” he said. ”Like literary people and artists

and such. We're musicians, so you could think of it as part of your

creative soul.”

”That's s.h.i.+t,” Johnno mumbled, but wiped his dripping nose.

”Maybe, but it's better than slitting your wrists. I'd have to find a

new partner.”

With a ghost of a smile, Johnno picked up the bottle again. ”Are we

still partners, then?”

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