Friday night drags on. I keep away from the throng on the clubroom floor, preferring to stand where I have a direct line of sight to Guillermo in his secluded corner. Aware of my presence, he looks over. I acknowledge him with a tilt of my head and a smile. He’s playing I’m a Slave 4 U, and as Britney Spears wails on, I hear his message loud and clear. He definitely has a crush on me, which makes it all the harder for me to focus on the hustle. As it is, Billy’s death nags at the corners of my mind and I have to force my attention on the action in the room, on the dancers and the guys in their various huddles.
My mom calls the guys ‘punters’. To me, that word sounds odd, and no one in the club refers to patrons as anything other than guys or jocks or chancers. Yet, maybe my mom is right t
