Chapter 7

He emerged from the alley onto Broadway and encountered throngs of people crowding the street, many of them young gay guys like himself, full of optimism here at the beginning of the weekend, drifting from bar to bar in hopes of finding that elusive something or someone that would make them happy

Arliss wasn’t so sure happiness existed. He was certain, however, that he wasn’t going to find it at the bathhouse, or the bars, or even in his own apartment, where he’d be up all night, like it or not, listening to his roommates as they brought various tricks home, had noisy sex with them, and then headed out for more.

It was hot. Brutally hot, as only Chicago in summer could be. It sometimes even surprised Arliss, who had grown up in central Florida. The humidity even now, late at night, was thick enough to feel like a wad of damp cotton surrounding him.