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leverage on me.”
    “Such wisdom from such a primitive screwhead,” John said. “You’d be an idiot not to use Frederico. But then again, Purism produces a butt-load of idiots.”
    Quentin felt his fingers curl up into fists. “John, I am warning you. You keep insulting my religion, and it’s going to go somewhere neither one of us want it to.”
    “You don’t even like your religion.”
    “I like it enough to defend it.”
    John rolled his eyes. “Fine. Give Frederico a chance, and I’ll lay off. Just talk to him. If you don’t think he can cut the gig, we take off, okay?
    Quentin looked at Frederico, shiny pink shoes up on the desk, big smile on his face. Frederico saw Quentin looking, put his fingers to his mouth, kissed them, held his hand in front of his face and blew.
    “He just blew me a kiss,” Quentin said.
    “Better than him giving you the finger.”
    “Yeah, but he just blew me a kiss .”
    John sighed. “Quentin, aren’t you a professional athlete?”
    “Yeah.”
    “He’s two hundred pounds, tops. You weigh twice as much as him. Do you think he’s got a homo stun gun or something? Maybe a magic spell of gayness that makes you want to dance and sing show tunes?”
    “Well... no.”
    “Then stop being you . You come sit down with me now, or I’m heading to the bar to watch Dinolition. Which is it gonna be?”
    Quentin looked up at the ceiling. He knew he was being ridiculous, but it was hard to get past a lifetime of rhetoric. He had once thought the Sklorno, the Quyth, and the Ki were Satanic. He’d gotten over that. Maybe he’d get over this as well.
    He walked to Frederico’s desk and sat in the chair on the right.
    John sat in the left-side chair. He pulled a mag-can of Miller from the beerdoleer. “Sorry,” he said, and reached across the desk to offer Frederico the can.
    Frederico took it, popped the top, and sipped. He put the can down and stared at Quentin. “So, you’re okay with me doing this job?”
    Quentin took a deep breath. “Look, I may have reacted, uh, poorly. I, uh, I’m not used to... to this .”
    Frederico shrugged. “That’s fine, you’re the client. Pay the bill on time and you can act pretty much any way you like. But please answer my question — are you okay with me being gay? You’ll still hire me?”
    Quentin nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll hire you.”
    “Wow.”
    “You didn’t think I would?”
    Frederico shrugged. “You’re from the Purist Nation. Everyone from the Purist Nation is a racist homophobic hate-monger.”
    “Millions of people are from the Purist Nation. Don’t judge me as a stereotype. We’re not all the same.”
    “I suppose not,” Frederico said. The over-the-top exuberance had left his voice. He didn’t sound girly anymore, he sounded like a regular guy. “Now, you know I charge a lot , right?”
    “Not really spending my money on anything else,” Quentin said. “I mean... this is my family, you know?”
    Frederico nodded slowly. “I hear you. Well, as long as your money is good, that’s what matters to me. I hate you Nationalites, but I’m doing this as a favor for John.”
    John raised his mag-can in salute and belched.
    Frederico laughed and shook his head. “You’re one of a kind, Uncle Johnny the Awesome.” Frederico waved both hands over his desk. Lines of light flared to life in front of him — a holo-interface. The middle of the desk changed appearance, going from white to clear. Quentin couldn’t see from where he was sitting, but there was likely a recessed screen inside the desk. Frederico’s fingertips poked at icons made of nothing but light.
    “Okay, Quentin,” he said. “Tell me what you know.”
    “Their last name was Barnes.”
    Frederico entered that. “First names?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “What do you mean you don’t know ? They were your parents.”
    “I was really little,” Quentin said. “They were just Mom and Dad to me.”
    “What happened to them?”
    “I don’t know.