Twenty-four hours later I was at Target, on aisle fourteen, the men’s department, picking out my first package of boxers. Hours after that I was in a chair at SuperCuts convincing, Nancy, my normal hairdresser that yes, I was still sane and yes, I still wanted it off. All of it. Off. Now. I’ll never forget that moment, when I stepped outside, the air tickling the sides of my highlighted, faux hawk. For the first time in my life, I looked gay. Impossible to hide gay. Explain to little children gay. Odd looks from straight woman gay. Oh hell, you get the point. Gay. Me. Spencer Carlin. Later that night, when I met my parents for dinner at the club, I smiled wider then ever before when I sat down, watching that little piece of half-chewed chicken fall from my mother’s open mouth. I’d never, ever looked back.

I guess that’s why it happened, this little obsession of mine. At first it was the files, I’d read them all, Kyla’s, Christine’s, hers. Then it became random cases, crime scene photos, anything that could possibly be related.. I made contacts, built my network of informants, slow and steady. Patiently. Every day, I’d step up to that felt covered table and roll the dice. The years hadn’t been kind to either of us. While Ashley eventually seemed to kiss and make up with her mother, mine became nonexistent. Oh, there was the annual, torturous call at Christmas, full of awkward silences and barely concealed requests to repent for all those sins against nature I’d committed during the year. Of course, I couldn’t exactly move sixty million a year in heroine and coke for my mom either, so I guess I understood. Sort of. At least Kyla never strayed far from the standard deviation, she hovered, flittering around her dangerous older sister like a moth, drawn to the one light that kept them both circling.

“Duarte!” Stonzio’s annoying pacing finally stopped. He knew I was right. Judging from the soft grunts behind me, they all did. Madison was the key to this, something serious had to have gone down. No way Christine would turn on her biggest cash cow, not now when she needed all the resources she could get to avoid a prison sentence. My thoughts were interrupted by Stonzio’s sweaty hand waving in front of my face. “Now, Carlin!” I stood automatically, rushing outside. Aiden was already in the running car. He took off before my door was fully closed, obviously pissed. “Where we headed Honcho?” His eyes left the road for a moment, trying to decide on my sincerity. Silently, he pulled the plane tickets from his pocket, tossing them onto my lap. Shit. Finally, I’d rolled a winning pair. Seven.