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and reassemble his stage face. 
    “Thanks, man,” Rocky said with a polite smile.  It took Dex a stunned moment to reciprocate, to put his own mask back on. 
    “Thanks, yourself.”
    Then they stood side by side, their hands joined in triumph, raised over their heads to accept the crowd’s love.  Then Rocky dropped Dex’s hand and went back to his band, clapping for them and goading the crowd to do the same.
    Dex felt as if he’d lost his balance, as if the hand Rocky had let go of was flailing for something to break his fall.  For a moment he’d been ready to give it all up, all of it, just to be with Rocky for even a second longer.  But it had been Rocky who’d let go of him, who’d sent him back to his old life. 
    Dex smiled and waved and applauded his own band, but inside something cried out the way you do when you drop a cup, in that moment before it hits the ground, already knowing that something was shattering, gone forever.
     
    It should have been a triumphal march, Rocky knew, as he left the stage and everyone backstage congratulated him.  He nodded, smiled, and kept moving. 
    That was a close call, he told himself as he rode a rented Vespa back to the motel.  He’d almost done it again.  Almost fallen in love with Dex fucking Dexter. 
    How did this always happen to him?  How did he always choose the ones who… No, the question was, why did he always choose the ones who wouldn’t love him back?  Why did he always go into these one-way relationships with a bucket of whitewash in hand, frantically painting over every crack and warp and rusty nail?  I might as well paint my own eyes shut.
    But Dex was worth his attentions, wasn’t he?  He was so talented, so sexy, so…
    “STOP IT!” He shouted out loud as he steered the little scooter into the parking lot. 
    The band was waiting for him in the lot.  They’d taken a car, on the freeway, to beat him back here just for this.  Korey had a bouquet of roses in his hands, and Jet popped a magnum of champagne as Rocky took off his helmet.  Sam the keyboard player grinned and did a Mary Catherine split, shouting, “Superstar!”
    Rocky laughed.  “What, no tiara?”
    “You earned one,” Rick the guitarist laughed. 
    “I didn’t have time to get one,” Korey said, handing him the bouquet.  “Miss America, you’re beautiful.”  He hugged Rocky, slapping him on the back.  “Seriously, dude. That was…fantastic.  Epic.  One of those moments, you know?”
    “Yeah, it was,” Rocky agreed.  He nodded at the band.  “You guys were awesome.  The way you meshed with Dex’s band, it was like you’d been jamming together for years.”
    Korey nodded. “Right?  It was magic.  And you and Dex, well…” Korey flapped his hand around as if he’d burned it.
    “Yeah, dude,” Jet said.  “You and him.  I would pay to see that.”
    “That’s not gonna happen, I can guarantee you.”
    “Why not?” Jet insisted.  “You want it.  He obviously fucking wants it.  What’s standing in your way?”
    Rocky let out a harsh, bitter laugh.  “What’s in the way?  Everything, dude.  Everything.”
     
     

CHAPTER 6 – A SUNNY DAY IN MARIETTA
     
    “Oh, don’t you look adorable!” Miss June Glades said in her high-pitched voice, pinching Norman’s cheek.  “I could just eat you up!”
    Norman Rockwell McCoy, Jr. squirmed, trying to get away from the bright coral lips that were trembling ever closer to his face.  The old woman smelled of lavender and mothballs, at least until she was right on you and you got a face full of her stale breath.  Her grip was like iron as she forced Norman to accept her kiss.
    The other old ladies twittered and clucked, charmed by the six-year-old’s behavior.  “Oh, you wait a few years, this one will be a real ladies’ man!” Miss June guaranteed her friends.
    “Where’s his sign?” his grandmother Faith asked.  “Let’s get a picture of him with his sign.”
    Miss June