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Authors: Gred Herren

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“Are you sure that's a good idea?” I couldn't help but grin back at him. “I mean, I'm hardly a role model or anything.”
“I can think of worse.” He stood up and I caught my breath. I'd done a great job picking out these costumes. Frank looked like a million bucks. The skirt was a little short, barely covering him in the front. I could see the bottom of his purple thong underneath it. I walked over and tugged it down a little bit until it was low on his waist, showing the deep crevices where his torso met his hips. “Shall we go?” He put his arms around me and planted a deep kiss on my lips.
“You got everything?”
He checked his little camera bag. “Wallet, keys, money. The only thing missing is the Ecstasy.”
I gaped at him.
He shrugged. “Why the hell not?”
So, we took a hit each.
We were going to march with the Society of St. Anne. We weren't going to make it to the beginning of the marching parade; I figured we could catch up to it when it crossed Esplanade on its way into the Quarter. The Society of St. Anne is one of the best parts of Fat Tuesday—fabulous costumes, everyone in a great mood, going from bar to bar, drinking and just having a great time. I figured we'd break off from them before they headed down to Canal to catch Rex; Canal Street is too big of a nightmare on Fat Tuesday. We'd hang out at the gay bars.
Frank and I held hands as we walked up Esplanade to Royal. We walked in silence, both of our faces sad and long. I had brought two extra hits of Ecstasy for later. I was starting to feel it a bit—that warm, happy feeling when you just love everything. “I hate to say it, but I'm going to really miss him,” Frank said finally as we posed for a couple of tourists who wanted to take our picture. The tourists weren't in costume, but almost everyone else on the street was. I grinned at a group in
Wizard of Oz
outfits. They even had some little people with them dressed as the Lollipop Guild. “The one thing I don't understand—” he broke off.
“What?”
“I don't know,” he said glumly, nodding to the tourists as they thanked us for letting them take our picture. “The one thing that doesn't make sense to me is why he stayed here so long. I mean, I know Pasha and Sasha were his targets, and Sasha didn't get here until a few weeks ago, but Pasha had been here for months. Why didn't he just kill him then?”
“I guess there are a lot of things we're never going to know.” We started walking again. “Who knows? But maybe—”
“Yeah?”
“Maybe he
did
love us, Frank. Maybe he was here because he wanted to be.” I shrugged. “The only thing he took was the picture. Nobody is all bad. I truly believe that. Everyone has good in him. Maybe I'm naïve, maybe I'm just dumb, but I'd like to believe—no, I'm
choosing
to believe—that he loved us.”
“You really are something, you know that?” Frank stopped walking and looked at me, a big smile on his face. “I love you, Milton Scott Bradley.” He put his arms around me and hugged me.
And I knew we were going to be okay, that we were going to get through it all. We had each other, and that was the most important thing. “I love you so much, Frank.”
“Excuse me?”
We pulled apart. A woman dressed as a skeleton with a Richard Nixon mask and holding a big plaster bone in one hand was standing there. “Can I take your picture?”
We put our arms around each other's waists and gave her a big smile.
“Thank you.” She turned the camera around so we could see the digital picture.
We looked
fabulous.
“Happy Mardi Gras!” I called out to her as we walked on, hand in hand.
“This is amazing,” Frank commented as a group of people dressed as the Seven Deadly Sins jostled past us, calling out “Happy Mardi Gras” as they passed. “I could never have imagined this.”
I stepped on a set of beads and my foot slipped. Frank caught me before I could fall, and I looked down at them.
There was a mixed set: green, gold, and purple beads alternating on the string. There was a medallion face down. I knelt down and picked them up, turning the medallion over. I grinned.
It read “MARDI GRAS MAMBO.”
How could I have forgotten? Crazy things happen during Carnival every year. There's just something about it, something that gets in the air that makes people do things they wouldn't ordinarily do. Sure, this year had been a little extreme—well, a lot extreme—but after all, what could you do?
It's Mardi Gras.
I slipped them over Frank's head and kissed his cheek. “Come on; let's get moving. We don't want to miss St. Anne,” I said.
There was a crowd milling about at the R Bar on Royal Street in the Marigny. In the distance I could hear what could only be the Storyville Stompers, the marching band that leads the Society of St. Anne. I nodded and said hello to friends—at least people whom I thought I knew. Everyone was in masks. There was a Spiderman, several Wonder Women, a couple of harlequins, Romeo and Juliet, gladiators, witches, and ghosts. It was almost too much for my mind to handle. I was on sensory overload.
“You want a drink?” Frank asked, starting to bounce a little bit. He was starting to feel it.
So was I.
“Just water's fine,” I said, taking some deep breaths to keep it under control.
He threaded his way through the crowd and inside the bar.
Life is good,
I thought, watching Frank's skirt bounce, revealing just a hint of curved, hard butt. People turned to stare after him as he walked past, and who could blame them? He was gorgeous.
No, life is good. Stay focused on the positive. The Goddess blessed us both by bringing us together, and as long as we have each other, we can handle anything, we can get through everything, and that's what is really important. I have a great family; I have a great guy; I have great friends; I have a great life. I am truly blessed, and that's what we both need to remember. It's not going to be easy to get over it, but as long as I have Frank I can do anything.
A loud cheer went up from the crowd as the Storyville Stompers came around the corner, and the crowd of costumed people dancing behind them cheered right back. A feeling of joy and peace came over me. Maybe it was the Ecstasy—I can't really say—and when I saw Frank coming toward me with two bottled waters in his hands, I said a quick prayer of thanks to the Goddess. He had a huge smile on his face. I threw my arms around him and we stood that way for a while, just holding on to each other, and I knew I was right. I could handle anything as long as I had him by my side.
Thank you, Goddess. Thank you so much for all of your blessings.
“You were gone a long time,” I said, taking the cap off the bottle and taking a swig.
“It's pretty crowded in there—and everybody wanted to know what I have on under this skirt.” He grinned at me. “This is so
awesome.
”
“I was a little worried.” I put the cap on my bottle and looked at him slyly. “And with your habit of getting kidnapped . . .”
He stared at me for a second and then started to laugh. “You little asshole!”
I was about to say something smartass when someone called my name. I turned and saw David running up to us. He was wearing leather shorts, a leather cap, and boots. He was dragging a sexy Hispanic-looking guy in jeans and no shirt by the hand. “Hey!” He grinned as he walked up. “This is Diego. He just moved here from Dallas.”
“Hey,” I said, shaking his hand. Diego was at most five feet three, and all muscle—a sexy little spinner. His abs were perfectly cut, and his waist was tiny. “Nice to meet you, happy Mardi Gras, and welcome to New Orleans!”
He grinned at me. “This is crazy!” He looked around, his eyes wide. “It's like this every year? This is so wonderful!”
I just smiled at him.
David leaned over and whispered in my ear. “You would not believe the weekend I've had! What have you guys been up to?”
I looked at him, then at Diego's smiling face, and then at Frank. They were all smiling. I looked around at the crowd of happy, festive people in costume and was filled with joy. There is so much joy in my life, so many wonderful people—how could I stay down? How could I be negative? I am the
fucking
luckiest man alive.
I threw back my head and laughed, putting my arm around Frank's waist and pulling him close to me.
“You wouldn't believe me if I told you,” I replied, winking at Frank. “Come on, boys, let's have some fun.” I threw my arms out and looked up at the sky. “Happy Mardi Gras!!” I shouted at the top of my lungs.
A loud cheer went up from the crowd, and we all four linked hands and fell into step behind the Storyville Stompers and headed into the Quarter.
EPILOGUE
They never did catch Colin.
I didn't really think they ever would—he was too good. They found his car at the airport in short-term parking. Apparently he'd gotten on a plane out of the country on Monday afternoon. Best as we can figure, as soon as Sasha was dead, he just hopped into his car and drove to the airport. But on his way, he stopped by the apartment and grabbed the picture of the three of us.
Papa pulled some strings with the licensing board, and both Frank and I managed to get our own licenses. Since the rent on our office space was paid for a year, we decided to keep it, and now we are partners in Sobieski & Bradley. We changed the name on the door, got new business cards, and started over. It was sad cleaning out Colin's desk, but there wasn't really anything in it other than office supplies. He left no real traces of anything behind—but then he'd never really had anything of that nature here.
Storm continues to throw work our way, and so does Millie. We're doing okay with the business, and after Mardi Gras, I was kind of happy to return to some semblance of calm and normality.
Papa doesn't know, to this day, that there were triplets. At first, I wasn't sure it was such a great idea to keep it from him, but Maman finally convinced me. Misha claimed their bodies as the next of kin. We had them cremated, and we spread their ashes in the river. It was a sad moment—all of us gathered there on the Moon Walk. I prayed for them, as I'm sure we all did.
Misha was a little awkward at first as part of the family circle, keeping quiet and not talking much. I talked to him a few times, and he told me stories about his brothers—my uncles—and what they were like as kids. But as time passed, his Diderot blood became apparent, and he started giving as good as he got at family gatherings. He even managed to leave Mom speechless and sputtering once.
He was
definitely
a Diderot.
Frank moved into my apartment, and Millie and Velma rented out the top floor to a group of flight attendants—all male, of course. They just use it as kind of a base, so a lot of the time it's just empty. I did a ritual cleansing before they moved in, just to be on the safe side.
It hasn't been easy for Frank and me, but as more time passes, it gets easier. And we have each other, which is the most important thing. Nobody ever mentions Colin to us—to people outside the family we just say it didn't work out and he moved away. I try to remember the times we had together that were good, when we laughed and joked, and whenever either one of us starts going to that dark place, I just think about the picture. I remember that he took that picture with him, wherever he was going.
It's easy to hate, but it's so much harder to forgive.
I'm not there yet—and neither is Frank. But every day, we pray for the strength to get past our hurt and anger.
And every day, I wake up in Frank's arms and feel grateful. Grateful to be alive, grateful for my family, grateful for all the blessings I have.
And I know someday I'll get to that place where I can forgive Colin for everything—we
both
will—and we'll be better people for it.
Life never hands you anything you can't handle.
It's
how
you handle it that matters.
And we're going to be just fine.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
 
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
 
Copyright © 2006 by Greg Herren
 
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
 
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat & TM Off
ISBN: 978-0-7582-8993-3
 

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