It took hours to get to where we were going. We stopped at a Starbucks, a Taco Bell, a Wendy’s, taking what we could, filling our bellies with other peoples’ lunches, snatching spare nickels and dimes off tables.
“Well,” I said, “at least I finally have more than six dollars on me.” I pointed at the myriad of gay flags, gay banners, gay bars, and shops that now surrounded us. “Boystown.” I’d heard about it back in San Francisco. Boystown was The Castro of Chicago. “Time to grow the bank.”
“Lost me.”
I shook my head. “Never.” He grinned, of course. I positioned us beneath a giant rainbow flag. There were people walking around us, mostly men, mostly, one would assume, gay. Gay men had used Benny for bad things; maybe they could use him for good ones, too. I had faith in gay men. They’d ha
