Page 26 of Romeo vs Romeo

“We would have to prove they were corrupt,” Cedric said.

“Hold on,” Martha cut in. “Let’s stick to what’s actionable. What can we do today? In a week?”

I thought about it a little more and wished Everett was here to help me out. “A petition,” I suggested. “Mama Viv, you’ve met nearly everyone who’s ever come here more than once. You must know a thousand people who spent their nights here.”

Mama Viv looked at the wall with the framed pictures. “I do, indeed.”

“Could we make some kind of gathering? Some kind of celebration of the years that Neon Nights stood here?” I asked. “We’ll invite as many of your former patrons as we can.”

“It would be a good launch,” Martha said.

“And if we are clear that it’s a protest, some outlets might be interested in hearing more about it,” Luke suggested.

“The fact is, there are many people who love Neon Nights,” I said. “And we would all want to fight to keep it going. It impacted our lives in ways we can’t count.” My gaze darted to the door. Nothing. Everett hadn’t shown up. He wasn’t going to. I had spooked him by kissing him, and he wasn’t coming after all. Clearing my throat, I looked at my friends. “People got married here. People came out of the closet here. A prince swept the floors, and his boyfriend is the head chef now. In the eighties, Neon Nights was one of the most important places for queer men to learn about the AIDS crisis when the whole world demonized us.”

Mama Viv’s jaw stiffened.

“And if some asshat billionaire wants to build a luxury hotel on the ruins of such a historic place, he’ll have to suffer some really bad press,” I said.

“But the risks, Roman,” Mama Viv whispered.

Of course. Losing this battle would ruin her financially as well as emotionally. Her heart was going to break either way, but I was always the first in the fighting lines. If it were my choice, we would be staging a die-in already. “Mama Viv, I can’t promise this is going to work. Even if it does, it’ll be a long and exhausting fight. The choice is yours. Nobody’s going to judge you if you let go. I’ll go where you go.” I paused while everyone echoed my sentiment in nods or short words.

“But what do you think, Roman?” Mama Viv asked.

“Me?” I shrugged. “I’d stick it to the big guys. I’d take the risk and go down raising hell.”

Mama Viv held her breath, not looking at anyone in particular. She turned her gaze to the framed pictures on the wall and walked over silently. She picked up one slightly larger photo that had been surrounded by smaller ones. She held it in her left hand, using her incredibly long black sleeve to brush it with her right. It was a film photo of two men; one was a youth my age, with fake eyelashes and comically drawn eyebrows, wearing a black sequin dress and a hairnet, his wig missing, and the other was a tall, handsome man with a horseshoe mustache and short stubble, his dark brown hair shaggy, his chest hairy under the crop top, his skin tanned and glistening. It didn’t take a genius to recognize them.

“Forty years,” Mama Viv whispered. “Almost to the date, darling. We took this photo on our opening night after I first performed on that stage. Oh, this should hang behind the bar, I think. I had such stage fright thirty minutes before the show. The crowd was three times bigger than what we expected. I was up here, crying, and Thomas swaggered in the way he alwayswould, poured me a double shot of vodka, put it on my makeup table, and said, ‘You’ll fucking kill it, darling.’” Mama Viv smiled fondly. “Time flies when you’re having fun, my darlings. But I don’t think it’s over yet. Not while we’re here and willing to put it all on the line.”

My heart leaped.

“Let’s stick it to the big guy,” Mama Viv huffed, pressing the framed photo against her chest.

I clapped my hands once excitedly, and the others took over, applauding, cheering, and calling to action.

“If that’s agreed,” Martha said, “I’ll spread the word. I know a very good attorney who wished to be involved with the youth center last month. I’ll give her a call tonight.”

“What else?” I asked the others. “Luke? You have thousands of readers in the city. Can you write a letter and mobilize some of them?”

Luke nodded. “I can spread the word. If nothing else, many will sign the petition.”

“Rafael?” I asked.

“I can photograph everything,” he said. “And my contacts must have contacts of their own. I’ll cast the net wide and see if I can get some journalists interested.”

“All are welcome,” I said. “Established ones and the citizen journalists. Bloggers, YouTubers, TikTokers, whoever you can get interested to learn about us.”

I glanced at Cedric, wondering if it was too much to ask. Cedric looked at me, then at Tristan. Something unspoken passed between them. They knew we could use a splash. A headline for the wider crowd.A foreign royal was spotted in Neon Nights, dancing with a man.

Squaring his shoulders, Cedric met my gaze again. “I will need to coordinate it with my people, but you can count on me.”

“Darling?” Mama Viv huffed worriedly. “Are you sure about that?” She directed her gaze to Tristan. Between the two, Cedric was used to living in the public eye.

“It was going to happen sooner or later,” Tristan said lightly. “We might as well go public in style.”

I wasn’t sure what I felt just then. Two couples sat in this room, bouncing ideas between each other soundlessly, each couple speaking with a single mind, single soul. I couldn’t have been jealous, I was sure. Even so, my gaze darted to the door again, disappointed before I even turned to it.

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