Page 111 of Boyfriend of the Hour

Nathan didn’t balk at Casper’s overt inspection. “Are you saying I look like Allen Ginsburg?”

“Who’s Allen Ginsburg?” I wondered.

“NOW HEAR THIS!” Casper crowed, gaining the attention of at least four tables. “Our lord and saint, Allen Ginsberg, was only one of the greatest queer poets ever to grace this world and I’m sure many others. ‘Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!’”

Casper said it with such flair that the room spontaneously broke into applause. They took a quick bow, then turned back to Nathan and me.

“Allen Ginsberg wrote ‘Howl,’” Nathan clarified for me. “I’m pretty sure that was a direct quote.” He turned to Casper. “I don’t write poetry, though.”

“Maybe not, but you do have excellent taste in eyewear,” Casper said with a nod toward Nathan’s glasses.

I grinned. I might not have known the poet, but I did know who the Beatniks were, since I’d probably seenFunny Faceat least twenty times with Nonna. I’d told Nathan to put on the most casual things he owned, and he’d emerged in some dark jeans that did dangerous things to his ass and a black T-shirt that made his biceps look about twice as big as usual. With the glasses, he did indeed look like some kind of bad boy philosopher-poet getting ready to seduce Audrey Hepburn.

“I think Casper’s just saying they like your outfit,” I told Nathan as I reached for his hand. “Casp, this is my boyfriend, Nathan Hunt.”

I almost stumbled over the word, but the squeeze of his hand around mine kept me centered. Nathan didn’t blink or tremble or look away from Casper at all. Damn. He was as good a performer as anyone in here.

“Boyfriend?” Casper gasped. “Is it…”

“It’s serious,” I lied. “You know I wouldn’t bring him here if it wasn’t.”

Nathan couldn’t read the surprise on Casper’s face, but I could. And it was exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Shock, yes, that I would ever call someone that, or at least bring someone other than Shawn here in that role. But also maybe some eagerness. Like they couldn’t wait to share the news.

“Lovely to meet you,” Casper said as they deposited twin kisses to each of Nathan’s cheeks. Suddenly, it was like they couldn’t scurry away soon enough. “Let’s chat soon, darling. Oh, do you want?” They materialized a baggie of small white capsules and dangled it in front of us. “An unsinkable Ms. Brown for the evening?”

I glanced at Nathan. “Er?—”

“Ms. Brown?” he asked.

“Molly,” I clarified. “You don’t have to.”

His brows relaxed with recognition. “Oh, MDMA.”

Casper nodded as he shook the baggie like a demented maraca. “Only the best for my friends.”

I knew I shouldn’t. And six months ago, I wouldn’t. It’s not that I didn’t have plenty of options for it or that other dancers Iknew weren’t partaking. Cocaine blew through Broadway like a snowstorm.

But dance was the only thing I was ever good at. I could never bring myself to jeopardize that, even for the occasional night out.

Now, though…why the hell not?

Impulsively, I grabbed one of the pills, popped it in my mouth, and swallowed it quickly. Then I turned to find Nathan watching.

“You don’t have to—” I repeated, but before I could finish, he’d already taken one and followed suit.

I gaped. “Youwant to do ecstasy?”

Nathan only smirked. “No surgeries until Wednesday. I believe this is the definition of ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ Isn’t it?”

“TheseRomans like to fall in love,” Casper told him with a gleeful grin before floating away to greet some other new arrivals.

“Come on,” I said as I pulled Nathan toward the performance space, where a band was starting to play in front of the typically diverse crowd that Peek attracted.

The musicians were attempting something best described as a mix of down tempo, folk-country, and acid jazz. They weren’tgood, exactly, but they were trying hard, and the audience, a wild assortment of all varieties of gender, ethnicity, sexuality, body adornments, hair color, fashion sense, and enthusiasm, seemed to appreciate that fact. Some were dancing wildly, others just swayed from side to side, lost in their own worlds. Many chatted in groups of two, three, or four as they watched the musicians, while some near the front appeared to be spontaneously choreographing to the beat. Five people were constructing a sort of human pyramid at the back of the great room, from which they were attempting to hum and vibrate along with the band’s melodies.

I searched Nathan’s face for any signs of disapproval. It was always a sort of litmus test, bringing people to places like this. Not everyone could vibe with this sort of crowd. Casper and their ilk avoided labels like the plague, and Peek had been created for anyone to be anything they wanted without judgment, provocation, or limits on their art.

To some, that concept was very uncomfortable. Others embraced it fully.