Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
Ethan
When Ethan arrived at Heyday for his Monday afternoon shift, Zane was leaning against the building, hands in his pockets, one foot braced casually against the wall behind him.
They hadn’t seen each other since the night at The Firehouse.
Other than texting Zane the next morning to lie and say he was okay, Ethan had ignored the rest of his friend’s texts.
Ethan offered a guilty smile. “Hey.”
Zane tilted his head to the side. “Walk with me?”
“Let me see what time––”
“Gurl, please. You always arrive twenty minutes early. You have time for a quick walk around the block.”
Ethan fell into step beside his friend. They strolled down Valencia street, passing its eclectic shops and eateries – the cute vintage clothing boutique, the indie bookstore, the brightly-painted taqueria.
The spicy aroma of grilled meat wafting from the taqueria made Ethan’s stomach rumble.
He hadn’t been eating much since the kerfuffle at The Firehouse.
With each passing day, he was more embarrassed by how he’d reacted. Sure, finding out his boyfriend was lying to him was bad, but making a scene and fleeing like a scorned lover felt a tad dramatic in hindsight.
“I’m sorry about the other night,” Ethan said. “I overreacted. I shouldn’t have shut you out like that.”
“I’m sorry, too. I feel like it’s my fault.
I should have let you introduce me to Blake when you were ready.
But to be fair, how could I have possibly known Blake was Dirk Slocum?
” Zane bumped his shoulder against Ethan’s, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“If you’d just shown me his picture when I asked… ”
Ethan thought back to his conversation with Zane at The Jackal King, after his and Blake’s first date.
How different would things have turned out if he’d showed Zane a picture of Blake that night, and found out the man he was dating was a famous porn star?
Would he still have given Blake a chance?
Or would he have clutched his pearls and run in the opposite direction?
“This is going to sound silly, but I didn’t want to jinx it.”
“What, did you think I’d see his face and that body and say you weren’t hot enough to date him?”
Ethan raised his eyebrows.
Zane broke into laughter. “Okay, yeah, I probably would’ve said that, but I would’ve been kidding.”
“It’s true, though. Blake’s a ten, and I’m a five on a good day.”
Zane seesawed his hand. “Maybe a six.” He chuckled when Ethan swatted at his arm. “Babe, you act like Blake was settling for you, but you’re a catch. He chose you, just as much as you chose him.”
They turned the corner and walked in silence for a bit. Finally, Zane asked, “What’s next for you two?”
“I don’t know. We haven’t talked.”
“Aren’t you running a business together?”
“Yeah. I mean, I still want to be a part of Siren, but he might not want anything to do with me now.”
“Might be a good idea to touch base about that.”
“I’m just…” Ethan thrust his hands into his pockets and kicked a crumpled-up napkin into the street. “Waiting for the dust to settle, I guess.”
They turned another corner, and Zane scratched the back of his neck. “So…” he said, dragging the word out. “Have you watched any of his videos?”
Ethan stared straight ahead. “Yeah.”
“What did you think?”
“I think it’s weird you’ve seen Blake have more sex than I have.”
“If you’re friends – or more – with someone who’s done porn, you’ll have to get used to it.”
“I don’t like seeing him like that.”
“Like what?”
“Making everything so extreme. Slapping guys’ asses, pushing them around. That’s not how he is in real life.”
“He’s acting.”
Ethan scoffed. “Actors embody characters. They tell stories. They don’t have a cameraman filming their ass while they fuck somebody. It’s so dehumanizing and… exploitative. Taking advantage of guys who are so desperate for money they’ll do anything.”
“I think porn can be those things. Have you considered that some guys might choose to make porn because they find it validating, or liberating, or just fun?”
With a snort, Ethan shook his head dismissively.
“You don’t know Blake’s motivation for doing porn,” Zane said.
“No.”
“Maybe you should ask him. His answer might surprise you.”
They turned the final corner, and after a few steps they were in front of Heyday again.
“Love you.” Zane said, wrapping his arms around Ethan. “Even though lately you seem determined to push me away.”
Ethan laughed and hugged his friend tighter. “Love you, too.”
“Good. Glad that’s settled.” Zane kissed Ethan’s cheek and playfully slapped his arm. “Text Blake.” He walked up the block to a crosswalk, turning to wave before crossing the street.
Ethan entered the diner with a newfound sense of determination.
Although he was hurt and confused about where things stood with Blake, at least for now they were still business partners, and had to communicate like adults.
On his meal break, he’d update Blake about his search for a contractor to rebuild the stage.
He’d only gotten halfway through the diner when he stopped dead. In a back booth near the kitchen, Drew Mazer was sitting across from a man with salt-and-pepper hair whose back was to Ethan.
“Shit,” Ethan mumbled, reluctantly approaching their booth.
Drew looked up, and his mouth curled into a sneer. “Ethan.”
Jerry Wyler, his father’s co-worker, turned around and waved. “Hi, Ethan.”
Intending to escape into the kitchen until the start of his shift, Ethan nodded once and took a step forward.
Drew held out his leg, blocking his path.
Ethan balled his hands into fists. He wanted to grab that boat shoe off Drew’s smelly foot and beat him senseless with it.
“Where are you off to so fast?” Drew’s sneer morphed into a smarmy smile as he lowered his leg. “Jerry was telling me about this amazing internship with his company. One that sounds like it’s right up your alley. Weren’t you, Jerry?”
“We’re hoping you’ll reconsider your decision about the internship,” Jerry said. “It would mean the world to Howie.”
“Howie.” Drew snorted. “What does dear old dad think about this business you’re starting with Mr. Larsen?”
Ethan shot a glance at Jerry, who averted his gaze, fidgeting in his seat with a hangdog expression. So it was Drew who leaked to Orison that they were opening a burlesque club. The man’s pettiness knew no bounds. Ethan had to leave before he did something stupid.
“I have to go clock in,” he said through gritted teeth.
Drew lifted his leg again. “You should give the internship some thought.” His voice had a sharp edge to it, like a surgeon’s scalpel. “It’s good to have something to fall back on. You know, should something happen to the club. So much can happen in a year.”
A year. The term of their lease. Ethan caught the threat behind his words. He walked around Drew’s leg, purposely clipping Drew’s foot with his thigh.
The bastard lowered his leg and laughed.
“Good seeing you, Ethan,” Jerry said.
Ethan slammed his hands against the door as he pushed it open, storming into the kitchen.
Caleb stood near the pass-through window, craning his neck to look into the diner. “What was that about?”
“That’s my new landlord.”
“I know Drew. He and his brother own a lot of buildings in the Mission. Who was he with?”
“Jerry. He works with my dad. Part of the team that’s been trying to get their hands on the fire station.
” Ethan slumped against the counter, trembling as his burst of anger dissipated.
“They’re just waiting for Blake to fail.
Like fucking sharks, smelling blood in the water.
The deck is stacked against him and he hasn’t even opened the doors yet. Fucking Orison.”
Caleb snapped to face Ethan. “Orison? The company that gutted the old library on Page Street?”
“Yeah. They want to do the same to The Firehouse.”
“Those motherfuckers!” Caleb growled, fire igniting in his eyes. “That’s a step too far. I’m fed up with greedy assholes bulldozing over the city’s past. Do you have plans after work?”
“No?”
“Come over to my house for a beer. I’ve got something you need to see.”
Ethan stared in awe at the rows of metal shelving units filling Caleb’s cellar, each shelf stacked with document boxes. Other than the narrow aisles between the shelving units, there was hardly any floor space left.
“What is all this? Please don’t tell me you’re a conspiracy theorist.”
Caleb laughed. “Amateur historian. The clippings at Heyday are only part of my collection. Come on, there’s something I want to show you.”
He led Ethan to a card table squeezed in next to his washer and dryer. On the table was a document box with the address of The Firehouse written on its side.
“When you told me Blake was taking over Virgil’s club, I did a little digging into my archives.”
Caleb uncovered the box and handed Ethan a framed photograph, faded and sepia-toned, of men standing in front of the fire station. He pointed to the bottom of the picture. “Look at the date.”
“March 12, 1906.”
“That was about a month before the 1906 earthquake. After that earthquake, fires broke out all over the city. Most neighborhoods were devastated. But not the Mission. If it weren’t for these men, most of the buildings in the neighborhood would’ve burned down.
Including the café that would eventually become Heyday. They were heroes.”
Caleb pulled a manila folder out of the box and invited Ethan to look through the vintage fliers he’d collected. They were decorated with the bold colors and psychedelic graphics common during the 60s. Many were torn but had been lovingly taped back together.
“In the 1960s, the fire station was turned into a bookstore called Common Ground Books, run by a woman named Mary Mazer.”
“Mazer? Drew and Joel are related to her?”
“They’re her grandsons.” Caleb rifled through the fliers until he found one advertising late-night readings.
He pointed to a picture of a flower in the lower corner.
“See the green carnation? It’s code. The readings were meetings for gay men, during a time when it wasn’t safe to be openly gay.
The connection between that fire station and the gay community goes back over sixty years. ”
“I had no idea.” Ethan carefully closed the folder around the delicate fliers. “Was Mary alive when Virgil opened his club? Did she know that he continued what she started?”
Caleb lifted a bulky accordion file out of the box and plopped it on the table. “Let’s see,” he said, as he walked his fingers over the color-coded file tabs. “That would have been the late 80s…” After a bit more searching, he handed Ethan a newspaper clipping from 1989.
Ethan read the headline aloud. “Mazer embraces new chapter at former bookstore.” Accompanying the interview was a photo of Mary, who he guessed was in her late fifties, standing in front of The Firehouse with a beaming, fresh-faced Virgil Glass.
Ethan skimmed the article, and Mary’s final quote made him chuckle.
“When I opened Common Ground, I wanted it to be a place where gay men could meet without fear. Where they could be themselves without judgment. I’m proud to see that spirit living on, even if the music’s a little louder now. ”
“There’s a lot of important history in that building.” Caleb stroked his chin as if deep in thought. “It really should be a protected historical landmark. That way it couldn’t be redeveloped.”
Ethan smiled. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to initiate that process, would you?”
“As a matter of fact, I do.” Caleb slid the box toward Ethan. “And now you have all the information needed to build a case.”