“There are classy adult bars around here, too. The kind with a jazzy piano and work happy hours and cocktail napkins for your drink.”
“I prefer McFly’s.” Walker surveyed the dingy surroundings. Sticky floors and dark lighting, full of charm. “You know this place used to be a McDonald’s?”
“Seriously?”
“Yep. That line of booths is where the registers used to be. McDonald’s was even grimier than McFly’s.” It came back to Walker crystal clearly, details he forgot that he had remembered. “It was a twenty-hour McDonald’s. Everyone used to come here after parties. This place was dead during the day, but you couldn’t get a seat at two a.m. Chances are if you couldn’t find a hookup at a party, you could find one here.”
“Love at a McDonald’s. It doesn’t get more all-American than that.”
A smile flitted across Walker’s face. “The week they were closing, they sold hamburgers for nineteen cents each. Like a liquidation sale. My freshman roommate and I each got ten. I woke up the next morning to the sound of him puking into a trash can.” Walker could still remember the sounds, and unfortunately the smells. The edges of the memory glowed in his mind like a photograph.
“I can’t believe this place used to be a McDonald’s.”
“And you know that yoga studio on Rogers?”
Cameron nodded.
“It used to be a tattoo parlor.”
Walker wished he could listen to Cameron’s laugh on repeat. The guy knew how to wield such a powerful weapon.
“Who knew Duncannon had such an edge?” Cameron brushed hair out of his eyes. “Now it’s a sterilized yuppie paradise.”
Walker couldn’t complain. He was part of the problem, and he liked that his son got to live in a safe, clean city. Although with that came skyhigh property taxes, but he wasn’t going to bore Cameron with such details.
Cameron moved right next to Walker to call over the bartender. He ordered two shots. Walker smelled his woodsy cologne, even some remnants of Starbucks, and nearly pulled Cameron into his lap.
“We need to toast to McDonald’s,” he said. He handed Walker a shot. “Don’t worry. It’s just vodka.”
Just vodka.It had been too long since Walker’s last shot. He eyed the glass of clear liquid with trepidation, but it turned out it was like riding a bike. The alcohol streamed down his throat and gave him a healthy burn in his chest.
“So why are you and your friends here and not at the Royale?” Walker asked.
“What’s that?”
He felt a sinking feeling in his chest. “You’ve never heard of the Royale? Do people not go anymore?”
Cameron shrugged in complete confusion.
“It’s this gay eighteen plus dance party that was held above this abandoned pizza parlor. I think at least three-quarters of the gay population at Browerton had their first gay experience on the dance floor of that place.” Still no reaction. “Come on! They don’t do it anymore?”
“I guess not. Sounds deliciously sketchy. Did you feel your first boner grinding into your thigh at the Royale?”
Walker nodded. “We used to look forward to it every week. We would pre-game in someone’s dorm room and then stumble over, ready to dance. There would be guys there from all over. Townies, closeted husbands, high schoolers who snuck in. Once we saw a member of the Browerton football team there, but it was an unspoken rule that what happened at the Royale stayed at the Royale.” Walker breathed out a lengthy sigh. “And now it’s gone, apparently.”
“That sounded like fun. There’s this dance club in the city that has a massive gay dance party called Revolution once a quarter. It’s three floors.”
Walker doubted it was as good as the Royale. He felt a little bad for Cameron and his friends that they couldn’t experience that.Today, being gay is more accepted, he thought, which was great. But there was something to be enjoyed in the secretiveness.
“How long ago was this?” Cameron asked, wiping beer off his lips.
“Fifteen thousand years ago.”
“Seriously.”
“It’s not that far off.”
“Are you really being coy about this?” Cameron raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. It was freaking adorable. “I’ll tell you my age. I’m almost twenty-two and a half.”
