A man came running out of the restaurant with a mall security guard. “Fred!” Radley said. “It’s about time! That man was harassing his waitress. Then he threatened to shoot me.”

“Do you want to file a report?” the guard asked. “I can call the real police.”

“I don’t even have a gun!” the bully wailed from the floor.

“We can still press charges for harassment,” the guard said.

“Hm,” said Radley. “Well, seeing him lying in a dirty puddle of Pepsi is reward enough for me.” He turned to Josh. “Joshua? What do you think?”

“I’m the one who’s going to file a report!” the man barked. “He hit me! That queer hit me!”

Radley tsked. “Hate speech, terrible gaydar and a gun lover. Color me shocked.”

Josh glanced at him, a little surprised that Radley wasn’t more upset. Radley correctly interpreted his glance and shrugged. “This happens more than you want to know.”

The crowd was taking pictures of the anus lying on the floor. “Hashtag gun-threatening-homophobe, hashtag Providence-mall,” one person said. “What’s your name, homophobe? I definitely want to tag you. I filmed the whole thing. Bet CNN will love this.”

“His name is Donnie Plum,” someone offered. “My cousin used to work with him. He’s an asshole.”

The security guard asked if Josh wanted to call the police. Josh wasn’t sure why he was the one being asked. He had done the hitting, after all. “What do you think?” he asked Radley.

“How about you ban him for life from this mall, Fred?” Radley suggested to the security guard. “I’ll file a report tomorrow if you want.”

“Okay,” said the guard amicably.

“Lifetime mall ban,” Radley called, and the crowd cheered.

“I already have a hundred and six retweets and a thousand likes!” said the hashtagging person. “Donnie, you’re going viral. Bet you lose your job tomorrow.”

Josh and Radley were told they could go.

“Thanks for standing up for me. And the waitress,” Radley said as they walked to the car. “You’re a total badass. Seriously. That stuff is scary no matter how many times you hear it.”

Josh nodded.

As they got in the car, he remembered where he’d seen the waitress. At the vet. She’d had the really old dog. Rhode Island and its two degrees of separation.

Fifteen minutes later, they were in the Falconry, a gay bar over by Providence College. The place was bathed in red light, and the bass of club music pulsed through it. It wasn’t horribly loud, or that crowded, though Radley said by midnight, the place would be packed.

They took a seat in a booth, which was spacious and comfortable. The waiter came over. “Drinks, gentlemen?”

“I’ll have the watermelon mojito,” Radley said. “Joshua? What would you like? Drinks on me, since you protected my honor. Dinner, too, if you’re hungry.”

He started to say he didn’t drink, then changed his mind. “Same,” he said.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Nachos, then,” Radley told the server. “They’re fantastic here,” he said to Josh. “You won’t regret it.”

It was so strange, being out with someone he didn’t know. In a gay bar, no less. After a fight. He couldn’t wait to tell—

Nope. He didn’t get to tell Lauren these things anymore.

Too bad. She would’ve loved this story.

Radley settled back and looked at Josh. His blue eyes were very kind. “So. Tell me about your wife.”

An unexpectedly direct order. Josh took a breath and let it out slowly. “Um . . . her name was Lauren. She had . . .” How much did Radley want to know? He wasn’t good at reading people. “She was diagnosed with a terminal illness about a year after we got married.”

“I’m so sorry. She was the love of your life?”

“Yes.” It felt oddly good to acknowledge that.

“I bet you two were the cutest couple ever.”

Josh pulled out his phone and brought up a picture of them on their wedding day and showed it to Radley.

“Oh, my God, she’s a Disney princess.” He stared at the phone. “You look super happy.”

“We were.”

The drinks came, and Josh took his first ever sip of alcohol. The drink was minty and sweet and went down easily. There was a slight, not-unpleasant burn in his throat, which must have been whatever alcohol was in a mojito.

“So, uh . . .” Josh said. Lauren was always the one who initiated conversation. What would she say? “Tell me about yourself, Radley. Is that your first name?”

“Yes. Radley Beauchamp. And my parents were shocked that I was gay. I told them if they’d named me Joe, I’d be an ironworker with a wife and four kids by now.” He laughed, and Josh smiled obligingly. “Not much to tell, really. I work at Banana Republic, I have two sisters, I grew up in rural Maine and I’m going to school part-time to become a licensed therapist.”

“No wonder you were so good in the store. Thank you for that.” To hide his embarrassment, he took a long sip of his drink. Really tasty.

“Thank you,” Radley said. “I appreciate it. My parents hated me being gay, because they’re the type of Mainers who love camping, Jesus, and squirrel for Sunday dinner. So what’s a gay kid to do except leave home and become a shrink?”

“It’s a great profession.” He assumed so, anyway. He’d never been to one.

“What do you do, Joshua?”