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steps forward, grabs one of Danny’s camera bags with his free hand and grins, his lips already turning orange from his quickly melting snack.
    “How is it that I always run into you?” Danny asks, as they walk together toward his apartment.
    Edwin grins. “We’re meant to be together. It’s fate, you know, the universe making sure we’re thrown together as much as possible.” He stops walking and lets out a bellowing laugh. “Don’t look so scared, Danny. I’m just joking. God, you’re not my type anymore, all right?”
    It’s never a coincidence, no matter what Edwin says. Whenever Danny sees him standing at a traffic light waiting to cross the street, or drinking a glass of Chardonnay in the window of a bar he’s walking past, he always thinks that Edwin has somehow figured out where Danny is going to be and purposely waits for him, the surprised look on his face so practised it’s almost believable. Danny thinks he can see a triumphant glimmer of I knew it in the lines of his mouth.
    At the apartment, Edwin asks if there’s any coffee (“What a day—I can barely stand up”) and settles on Danny’s couch, his feet resting on the table in front of him. Danny can see Edwin’s eyes moving and then resting on the Lucite tablelamp, the black leather armchair, Danny’s own photographs hanging on the walls in geometric groupings of three and five. When the coffee is ready, Danny hands a mug to Edwin and stands, arms crossed, watching as Edwin sips noisily and winks over its rim.
    “I saw you looking. What are you thinking?” Danny asks.
    “Why are you so suspicious? I wasn’t thinking anything.”
    “Liar.” Danny sits down in the armchair and looks out the patio window at the building across the street.
    “Fine. I was thinking that this place looks like a show home. One of those modern apartments we keep building around here. Do you even live here? Where’s the dirty laundry, the crumbs on the table, the fingerprints on the window?” Edwin puts down his coffee and clasps his hands behind his head. “I could sell this place tomorrow, it looks so clean.”
    “Listen, not everyone’s a slob like you. You live in that huge house with all that furniture your parents bought. Look at it now. It’s a complete mess.”
    “True enough. If it weren’t for my parents, I’d be a total failure. People remind me of that every day.” Edwin closes his eyes and Danny is unsure if he is hiding disappointment or tears, or if he is simply exhausted.
    “Did something happen?” Danny asks quietly.
    Edwin laughs, his hand on his stomach. “My dear father called at seven this morning from Hong Kong to tell me that our sales aren’t up to snuff and that if I don’t turn it around in six months, he’s going to close the Vancouver office. We’re making money, lots of money, but not fast enough for the Hong Kong crowd. We can sell the properties, but it’s not like Asia where they have ten bidders for every tiny apartment orroach-infested office.” He rubs his forehead. “And then my mother picks up the extension and starts asking me when I’m going to get married. She’s aching for grandchildren, she says, like having none is a disease or something. I should say to her, ‘Ma, I’m never having children because I like to fuck men,’ and then take bets on whether she has a heart attack, or falls mute and never leaves her bedroom again. What do you say, Danny? Care to wager?”
    Danny leans over and pats Edwin’s knee. “I know, Eddie, I know.”
    “Of course you do, my closeted friend. Maybe you should tell my parents and I should tell yours.” Edwin throws back his head and laughs some more, until tears form in his eyes. “We’re a little overwrought, Danny. We need a drink.”
    Danny stands up and starts to walk to the kitchen. “I have some beer and a bottle of wine. Let me get it.”
    “No, no, stupid. We need a drink somewhere else. Somewhere with eye candy. Somewhere I don’t have to look at