6. Drawing Battleplans

CHAPTER 6

Drawing Battleplans

Roman

When I woke up, the only problems in my life were a brain-splitting headache and a deeply frustrating erection. I had time for neither.

My mouth was dry, burning with thirst, as I clambered off my bed and sauntered to the door. I'd had a few too many sorrow-numbing shots last night.

Last night.

The fog in my head cleared a little, and I retraced the events of the evening. Mama Viv had gotten a letter so terrible that we had all gotten shitfaced in the hours that followed. Poor Bradley had to run the bar and oversee the servers while his future was on the line as much as everyone's. And frankly, of all of us there, Bradley was the one who needed steady income the most. I set that thought aside and turned from the door to find a pair of pants. My dick was very stubborn on the best of days, but today, it seemed extra eager to annoy me.

Then, as I put my pants on and turned to the door, I saw it. It was clear as if it was still happening. Everett, standing in my doorway, on his way out with all the reluctance in the world. Because I had kissed him, and he hadn't freaked out. I had kissed him because…

Because he was brilliant.

I hurried as much as I could to get myself a tall glass of water and put out the fire that raged inside of me. The apartment was swaying around me, but that wasn't exactly a novel sensation. What was new was the arhythmic thundering of my heart.

I'd kissed Everett because Everett had promised to help me fight. In that instant, when debate was settled behind his eyes, he was the most attractive he had ever been. He wasn't that angry guy in search of someone to hate-fuck, but a knight in shining armor, a hero, a rebel like me. He had been irresistible.

I had an aspirin with my water just for shits and giggles, then a cold shower to jump-start my basic cognitive functions. When I was done, I paced around the apartment, my phone burning up in my hands as I tapped out all my thoughts. Well, all the important ones that related to Neon Nights. There were plenty of other thoughts that persistently converged around the warm, soft lips of a guy I couldn't stop dreaming about.

I wished I had his phone number. Or even a surname to look him up, really. It was a cold reminder that I knew nothing about Everett. Nothing except that nobody makes you want to collapse on the floor at a single glance from him. Nothing except that the tragedy of the half-life he had lived in the shadows makes you want to cuddle him. Nothing except the fact that he's constantly on your mind . I wanted to see him.

Digging through the moments of the previous night, I remembered his promise to come to Neon Nights early to forge plans with us. He needed to meet Tristan and Cedric, Madison, Oakley, Lane, Rafael, and Luke. He needed to meet Martha, who would love to hear what Everett knew about turning places into landmarks.

I reformed my notes into a checklist, pacing all the same. The sun was climbing fast, and time was running out. By the time my stomach rumbled with hunger, I had sent out the messages to everyone I could think of except Everett. I just had to trust he would find a way to show up.

The day began to drag after I'd had my breakfast. My hangover was fading, but the exhaustion that followed an afternoon of drinking and a night of crappy, alcohol-soaked sleep was setting in. I napped for what felt like three hours but only lasted twenty minutes. And the worst of all was that I couldn't stop replaying that kiss.

What if I'd pushed him too hard and too fast? What if he'd trusted me to be his friend, and I gave in to the temptation the very first time I got drunk?

I worried about that sexy stranger far more than I had imagined.

I didn't want to be his little experiment anymore. That was all fine before we knew each other's names and before we bared our souls to one another. Now, things had changed. Now, I wanted to be his everything . Or his nothing.

That small, nasty thought stung as I lay in my bed and covered my eyes with my forearm. I hoped it would go there, but I wasn't sure I could be just friends with Everett. Not when even the merest thought of him filled my stomach with butterflies, set fire to my lower abdomen, and made me press my thighs together with a mixture of eagerness and anticipation. This fearfulness was new to me, but it felt good. It felt like it mattered if I was afraid of blowing it.

We met at Mama Viv's at six. I was the first to show up, and Mama Viv was still trembling, her voice cracking, her movements quick and deliberate but leading nowhere. Tristan and Cedric came just a few minutes later, followed by Martha, then Rafael and Luke. Madison couldn't come this afternoon, but he promised to help however he could. Everett was probably on his way already.

"Very well," Mama Viv said in an airy, nervous voice. "Should we do this in the sitting room?"

The room, much like the entire apartment, was a vibrant blend of vintage and maximalist design. One wall was completely adorned with framed photos chronicling the entire history of Neon Nights, with Mama Viv at the center of it all. Surrounding her in each image were friends, lovers, protégés, and wards in a rich tapestry of memories. A long ottoman flanked by matching armchairs sat around a central coffee table. The remaining walls were lined with bookcases brimming with eclectic reads. Windows offered a view of the terrace of Neon Nights, bringing a touch of the outside world into this nostalgic sanctuary.

"Let me make some coffee for everyone," Cedric said. His voice was hangover deep like mine, and his offer to make coffee was enough to earn him sainthood. He knew his way around Mama Viv's place because he had lived here for a time while hiding his identity.

"Would you, darling?" Mama Viv said gratefully.

Martha and Tristan sat down. Rafael and Luke joined them, one on the ottoman and the other in an armchair. Mama Viv, who wore a black lace gown with a silky underlay and extraordinarily long sleeves, stood by a bookshelf, one hand resting on the shelf, the other on the satin belt that cinched her waist. I couldn't get myself to sit still, either, so I walked around the sitting room.

"It's hopeless," Mama Viv said.

Sighs went around the room.

"Is that for sure?" Rafael asked.

I wasn't surprised that he was the first to question the certainty of a bad outcome. He was the guy who had spent a decade colliding with the love of his life, losing him after every encounter, and yet here they were, married and happy.

"The question is, what do we know for sure?" Martha said.

Mama Viv jerked her head up and blinked quickly a few times, long, black eyelashes batting against the welling tears. "We know that the Planning Commission and Urban Development Corporation have declared this property eminent domain. We know that it gives them the right to force a sale. And we know that Harold Langley is the buyer."

Martha cursed under her breath.

"This isn't the first time we're fighting Langley's company," I explained. "Just last month, I got my ass kicked by some thugs who just so happened to want that youth center shut down. And I'd be surprised if Langley wasn't the guy behind the attack."

"He dictates the face of New York," Martha said with unfiltered hatred.

"That's it," Mama Viv said, throwing her hands in the air. "We cannot fight him, darling. I appreciate you wanting us to gather here, but I won't put you all at risk of vendetta."

"I think we should have a say in that," Tristan said carefully. Cedric, with his chin lifted regally and his blue eyes sharp, entered the sitting room with a tray full of steaming mugs. He set it on the table and joined Tristan on the ottoman.

"To what end?" Mama Viv asked hopelessly. "We are discussing crossing an unscrupulous man with many connections. Planning Commission is likely in his pocket, darling, and Neon Nights isn't the Stonewall Inn."

I tapped my lips in thought. "That's just it."

Silence followed my words.

"We don't need to be the Stonewall Inn to put up a fight. Mama Viv, you've spent forty years here. When was this place built? A hundred years ago?" I asked.

Mama Viv cocked her head in thought. "A hundred and two."

I snapped my fingers. "Last night, I spoke to my, uh, friend about this." By instinct, I glanced at the door of the sitting room. He wasn't here. "He thinks that the four decades of nurturing underground queer culture in here gives you a good chance to declare Neon Nights a landmark."

Luke shook his head. "That's a very tall mountain to climb."

"That's true in most cases, but we could start campaigning fast. The sooner, the better. If we can apply enough pressure and get enough eyeballs looking our way, we'll delay Langley. What matters the most is that you don't sell willingly," I told Mama Viv.

She considered this carefully. "And if he wins, after all, the price will be forced."

"It'll be a fraction of what you would get if you sold it now," Luke said in slightly more than a whisper.

"Whose side are you on?" I snapped.

He thrust his head up. "Mama Viv married us right there in the garden, Roman. This place means everything to me, but we have to look at it from all angles."

"Fine," I muttered. "Sorry."

"He is right, darling," Mama Viv added. "If the city forces me to sell, they'll set their own rates. I'll be ruined."

"And if you sell now?" I asked.

Mama Viv said nothing. To all of us, the thought of Neon Nights closing was impossible to comprehend. It clashed with the entire reality.

"Now is not the time to make that decision," Martha said, adding some reason and breathing room into the discussion. "Roman, what can we do to delay?"

I drew my shoulders back. "Pressure campaign," I said. "It would have to be a blitz. We start by speaking to the media."

Cedric shook his head apologetically. "Forgive me, Roman, but put yourself in their shoes. Why would anyone care?"

"Because we make them," Tristan said. "Cedric is right that we can't just invite CNN here. There needs to be a story that matters enough. And we can start by finding that story."

"Corrupt officials and a greedy developer going after an innocent minority?" Luke asked.

"We would have to prove they were corrupt," Cedric said.

"Hold on," Martha cut in. "Let's stick to what's actionable. What can we do today? In a week?"

I thought about it a little more and wished Everett was here to help me out. "A petition," I suggested. "Mama Viv, you've met nearly everyone who's ever come here more than once. You must know a thousand people who spent their nights here."

Mama Viv looked at the wall with the framed pictures. "I do, indeed."

"Could we make some kind of gathering? Some kind of celebration of the years that Neon Nights stood here?" I asked. "We'll invite as many of your former patrons as we can."

"It would be a good launch," Martha said.

"And if we are clear that it's a protest, some outlets might be interested in hearing more about it," Luke suggested.

"The fact is, there are many people who love Neon Nights," I said. "And we would all want to fight to keep it going. It impacted our lives in ways we can't count." My gaze darted to the door. Nothing. Everett hadn't shown up. He wasn't going to. I had spooked him by kissing him, and he wasn't coming after all. Clearing my throat, I looked at my friends. "People got married here. People came out of the closet here. A prince swept the floors, and his boyfriend is the head chef now. In the eighties, Neon Nights was one of the most important places for queer men to learn about the AIDS crisis when the whole world demonized us."

Mama Viv's jaw stiffened.

"And if some asshat billionaire wants to build a luxury hotel on the ruins of such a historic place, he'll have to suffer some really bad press," I said.

"But the risks, Roman," Mama Viv whispered.

Of course. Losing this battle would ruin her financially as well as emotionally. Her heart was going to break either way, but I was always the first in the fighting lines. If it were my choice, we would be staging a die-in already. "Mama Viv, I can't promise this is going to work. Even if it does, it'll be a long and exhausting fight. The choice is yours. Nobody's going to judge you if you let go. I'll go where you go." I paused while everyone echoed my sentiment in nods or short words.

"But what do you think, Roman?" Mama Viv asked.

"Me?" I shrugged. "I'd stick it to the big guys. I'd take the risk and go down raising hell."

Mama Viv held her breath, not looking at anyone in particular. She turned her gaze to the framed pictures on the wall and walked over silently. She picked up one slightly larger photo that had been surrounded by smaller ones. She held it in her left hand, using her incredibly long black sleeve to brush it with her right. It was a film photo of two men; one was a youth my age, with fake eyelashes and comically drawn eyebrows, wearing a black sequin dress and a hairnet, his wig missing, and the other was a tall, handsome man with a horseshoe mustache and short stubble, his dark brown hair shaggy, his chest hairy under the crop top, his skin tanned and glistening. It didn't take a genius to recognize them.

"Forty years," Mama Viv whispered. "Almost to the date, darling. We took this photo on our opening night after I first performed on that stage. Oh, this should hang behind the bar, I think. I had such stage fright thirty minutes before the show. The crowd was three times bigger than what we expected. I was up here, crying, and Thomas swaggered in the way he always would, poured me a double shot of vodka, put it on my makeup table, and said, ‘You'll fucking kill it, darling.'" Mama Viv smiled fondly. "Time flies when you're having fun, my darlings. But I don't think it's over yet. Not while we're here and willing to put it all on the line."

My heart leaped.

"Let's stick it to the big guy," Mama Viv huffed, pressing the framed photo against her chest.

I clapped my hands once excitedly, and the others took over, applauding, cheering, and calling to action.

"If that's agreed," Martha said, "I'll spread the word. I know a very good attorney who wished to be involved with the youth center last month. I'll give her a call tonight."

"What else?" I asked the others. "Luke? You have thousands of readers in the city. Can you write a letter and mobilize some of them?"

Luke nodded. "I can spread the word. If nothing else, many will sign the petition."

"Rafael?" I asked.

"I can photograph everything," he said. "And my contacts must have contacts of their own. I'll cast the net wide and see if I can get some journalists interested."

"All are welcome," I said. "Established ones and the citizen journalists. Bloggers, YouTubers, TikTokers, whoever you can get interested to learn about us."

I glanced at Cedric, wondering if it was too much to ask. Cedric looked at me, then at Tristan. Something unspoken passed between them. They knew we could use a splash. A headline for the wider crowd. A foreign royal was spotted in Neon Nights, dancing with a man .

Squaring his shoulders, Cedric met my gaze again. "I will need to coordinate it with my people, but you can count on me."

"Darling?" Mama Viv huffed worriedly. "Are you sure about that?" She directed her gaze to Tristan. Between the two, Cedric was used to living in the public eye.

"It was going to happen sooner or later," Tristan said lightly. "We might as well go public in style."

I wasn't sure what I felt just then. Two couples sat in this room, bouncing ideas between each other soundlessly, each couple speaking with a single mind, single soul. I couldn't have been jealous, I was sure. Even so, my gaze darted to the door again, disappointed before I even turned to it.

And there he was, standing uncertainly in the doorway, just about to knock on the doorframe with one knuckle. His gaze met mine, and the murmurs quieted.

Everett cleared his throat, his nerves thin and on edge so clearly that I was almost sorry for him. But I couldn't be sorry. There was no room for pity in my heart because I admired him way too much right now. I couldn't take my eyes off him with how proud I was of him. What a leap , I thought. Just a week ago, he'd been scared of a drag queen, terrified of gay men, and full of hatred for himself. But here he was, in the closest circle.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he said, his voice rough and manly.

There was no dimming my goofy smile. "You're not late at all." I crossed the room and took his hand, relief splashing me like the waves of a sea splashed against a cliff during a rising ride. He didn't hate me for kissing him. He didn't run. Pulling him by his hand, I led Everett to the middle of the room. "Everyone, this is Everett. This was all his idea. And Everett, this is everyone."

Everett swallowed nervously and nodded. "Is it happening?"

"We're doing it," I assured him. "The whole blitz."

Mama Viv approached us and took Everett by his shoulders. He didn't even wince when she pulled him into a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and upper back. She held him for a moment, thanked him, and let him go.

The others echoed the thanks. Martha praised his quick thinking. And I…

Well. I just gazed at him with this silly smile plastered on my face, and a whole new level of attraction unlocked. He wore a hoodie and a pair of jeans, posing as straight as an arrow, but there was something new in his eyes. They were the old, tired eyes of someone who couldn't see a way out of his problems. These were the dazzling blue eyes that were full of hope, even if there was a sliver of doubt in them.

"Thank you," I said quietly to Everett when everyone else began chatting further about the things they could do. "You gave us hope."

Everett smiled softly, for my eyes only. "I pray it's more than hope."

"Hope is what we need right now," I assured him.

Everett was happy to stand next to me and to stand so close that I could almost feel his warmth. It made me happy that he didn't fear me. It made me so ridiculously happy that I hadn't turned him against me last night.

He would be a brave fighter for Neon Nights. Few had the strength he possessed.

It took all I had to stop myself from taking his hand in mine again.