9
I threaded my way south through rush hour traffic to Grumpy’s. The place was packed. I nabbed the last empty booth and ordered my usual—a Grumpy Burger all the way, Cajun fries, and a Four Peaks White Ale to wash it down.
Grumpy, a pudgy Vietnam Vet with silver mutton chop sideburns, had opened the bar and grill after being discharged from the army in 1973. The place had become a local landmark, having won Phoenix Living’s “Best of Phoenix” award in the Bar and Grill category more than twenty times.
As I waited for Becca and Conor, my mind drifted back to the article and my argument with Hensley. I tried to compile a list of people who might have outed me. The thought that any of my close friends or family might have blabbed to Hensley about my trans past decimated my appetite.
I loo
