PrologueIt had been a quiet evening, and after my friend Micajah left, I became nostalgic. I poured myself a snifter of brandy—my second of the night, but who was counting?—took down one of my college yearbooks, and thumbed through the pages until I found the photo I was looking for—myself and my two best friends taken the Halloween of Ron’s and my sophomore year. No one called us the Three Musketeers, but that was what we’d pretty much been back then. Our names were beneath the photo: Leo Rossi, Ron Edgerly, Micajah Autry. Ron insisted on calling his boyfriend “Cage,” and Micajah tolerated it with his usual good humor, whereas I called him by his given name, although that was mostly to tease Ron.
Ron stood between us in that photo, dressed in tennis whites. He’d been a good player back t
