Page 93 of We Could Be Heroes

“Isn’t she!” agreed Jordan. “Adele era?” April nodded, and he turned to Will. “Adele era?”

“It’s my first time singing live,” said Will, “and I am still bricking it just a smidge. So if you could please stop comparing me to Adele, that would be great.”

“Fine,” said Jordan. “But just so you know…you’re a national treasure, too.”

Will paused mid–lip liner, unsure if he had heard him correctly.

“Jordan,” he said. “That is quite possibly the nicest thing you have ever said to me. Are you feeling all right?”

Jordan cleared his throat. “So anyway, I posted something online a little while ago, just trying to raise awareness of what was happening at the Village, how the council keeps trying to shut it down.”

Will simply nodded, uncomfortably aware that this was something he would have only too gladly helped Jordan with if they had been speaking at the time.

“Anyway,” Jordan continued, “it’s picked up a little bit of attention.”

He turned his screen around for Will to see. Thousands of likes and shares, which in itself was great. Then Will started to scroll through the comments.

Hundreds of people had responded to Jordan’s post, sharing stories of their own experiences at the bar. Some were just a line or two, but others went on for paragraphs, spilling over into replies and whole separate threads spinning out under Jordan’s message.

So many firsts. First rebellious teen nights out, awed at finding a place where they could be themselves. First crushes. First kisses. First loves, first fights, first heartbreaks. First nights feeling brave enough to go out wearing women’s clothes. Firsts, seconds, thirds, the maps of entire lives unfolding within four walls and a smoking area, a safe place to tell one another love stories.

“This is amazing,” Will said, tearing his gaze away from the phone and up to the ceiling because he was not going to cry on this fresh beat. “You’re amazing.”

“No need to sound so surprised,” said Jordan. “And anyway, April has something to show you, too.”

April looked up at Jordan from her perch on the bed, eyes suddenly wide like a rabbit’s in the headlights.

“I do?” she asked.

“Yes. On your phone. Remember?”

“Oh. That.” April shrugged. “It’s nothing.”

“It is not nothing.” Jordan turned to Will. “April has a new job.”

“What?” Will gasped. “You’re leaving Gilroy’s?”

“Well…yeah.” April held out her arms. “You actually happen to be looking at the new digital editor for FanFam.”

“FanFam? Well, that’s fun to say. Isn’t that the—”

“The biggest online destination in the world dedicated to pop culture from the perspectives of people of color? Sure is.” April grinned. “I get to write about comic books for. A. Living.”

“Oh my god, you superstar!” Will fanned his face. “Why would you tell me this now? I’m going to have to redo this!”

April cackled. “I love you, too,” she said.

“You need to finish getting ready if you don’t want to be late again,” said Jordan.

Will blanched. “I am ready.”

Jordan blinked. “Well, all right then. I shall hail us a carriage.”

When the car arrived, Jordan called shotgun and immediately began issuing instructions to the driver.

“I’m going to need you to avoid the Bristol Road,” he said as Will and April ensconced themselves in the back. “Go the long way, past the uni.”

The driver shrugged, happy to accept the higher fare, and Will smiled. Jordan had just requested a route that would avoid passing any of the billboards advertising the impending release of Kismet 2. The first time Will had glanced out of the tram window to Patrick’s face looking back from the side of a building, he’d had to breathe into a paper bag.

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