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I give him a look and choose not to answer. Don laughs so sharply a bird lifts from the hedge.

“Paul.”

“What?”

“We underestimated that boy. He knows how to work a room better than a twink on bear night.” He sets the trash bag aside and slips down onto the chaise. “If I’d only known who he was.”

Something tells me to sit. I ease down beside him. “What aren’t you telling me?”

Don softens by a degree. “Listen. I’m not saying he’s evil. But there’s more to this guy than simple South End straight boy.”

“I never said he was simple.”

“You hoped he was.” He gives me a side look. “We both did.”

That lands, and I don’t disagree.

I nudge his knee. “You’re not answering my question.”

Don nods, and his lips curl inward like he’s trying to decide something.

“Clint is a camboy,” he says. “I’ve seen his show.”

“His what?”

Don stares at me. His expression changes from confessional to delighted horror.

“Oh my God. You don’t know what camming is.”

“I know what a camera is.”

“That’s not the same thing.”

“Donald.”

He lifts both hands. “Fine. Clint performs online. Live. For tips.”

The patio seems to go quiet, though it doesn’t. The pool pump still hums. From inside the house, one of the dogs scratches at the door.

“Performs,” I say.

Don gives me a look. “Naked, Paul.”

“Why do you know this?”

“Because I’m a man with Wi-Fi and needs.”

“A porn site?”

“What? Do you think after I kicked Jeremy out I took up needlepoint and meditation? No. I took up cardio and porn like every other single man.”

I close my eyes briefly. “You watch Clint doing…?”

“Watched. Once. And doing exactly what you think he was doing.”

I open my eyes.

“Fine. More than once. Not recently—and believe me, never again.”