““That’s not really your business, is it?” I snapped, doing that going-on-the-offense thing I do when I panic. “I’m not sure what this has to do with me working for you.” Bravado for the win. He crossed his arms over his chest and one corner of his mouth lifted. “You think you’re the only young gay man who’s ever been there?” I scoffed, looking pointedly around the pretty, expensive art gallery perfectly suited to this well-heeled vacation town. “You’re doing okay for yourself.” “Yeah, I am. I got fucking lucky. Some of my friends didn’t, though, and they’re dead now. Killed by fag bashers, overdoses, or suicide. Infected with HIV they got peddling their asses on the streets. You don’t know me, Topher, and you don’t know what I’ve seen in the years it took me to become the man I am now. But I know you. You might be all alone, but you’re sure as fuck not unique. And right now, I think I’m looking at you standing on life’s big old chess board, and you’re about two moves in any direction from being one of the ones who ends up in a bad place.””
