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"What about you?"

"I'm not sure that opportunity will ever arise, my dear. My work is here… with the politically closeted and self-loathing. You, on the other hand, could take yours anywhere. You'd leave me the

minute you met some hot mountain man. Just forget all about little ole me."

"What exactlyisa mountain man? And spare me the horror movies."

Demarco grinned. "You know… some hot strapping stud in denim and plaid. Tall and wide,

with a beard—but nicely trimmed. Demarco don't do bushmen."

"You've given this some thought."

"If you regularly fucked old cronies and Hill people, you'd do the same."

"What about the hot ones? Brian Sims?"

"Girl, I would leave you, the Circle, and my mother for him."

"Wow. Truth be told."

"People that beautiful, and OUT, are not calling the likes of me. I get the future Foleys and the Craigs… the Crists and the McGreeveys… the Arangos and the Krugers… the—"

"Please tell me you're not hooking up with Lindsey Graham."

"Not yet… but a girl can dream."

Alec's face contorted as if he'd just bitten into a slice of sour lemon.

Demarco laughed. "Enough about work. You need to go do your thing, and I need to get those

scratch cards."

Alec reached out for a hug, and Demarco squeezed him tight.

"Seriously," Demarco said, receding from the hug, hands bracing Alec's smaller frame by the elbows. "I'm here for you. Call, text, Skype, walks, talks, drinks, whatever. You deserve better, Alec.

If that means clearing your head in the mountains, so be it. I'm only a call away."

Alec grinned at him, tears welling. "Thanks, D."

"Now get on home, you're shivering. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Deal?"

"Deal."

They parted, briskly moving along separate arteries in the heart of the Circle.

3

Alec didn't wait for Mac to come in. He went to bed shortly after midnight and slept well

despite the circumstances. When he woke, he went downstairs for a cup of coffee. Mac was asleep on the couch with a quilt, his clothes from the night before draped over the neighboring lounger.

Alec made coffee and quietly found a frying pan to scramble some eggs. He put some bacon in

the microwave and soon the brownstone was filled with the smells of breakfast.

As he did these things Mac began to stir on the couch. He sat up groggily, quilt sliding from his