December 31st, 9 P.M.
My mind was still reeling with Nelson’s words by the time I arrived at Fred’s mansion. Fred Grant was ridiculously wealthy and loved to throw parties for his multitude of friends, gay, straight, whatever. His New Year’s Eve bash was the most famous.
The place was crowded, but I was able to snag a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. I looked around to see if I could spot Nelson anywhere. He hadn’t arrived just yet.
In the meantime, I was propositioned by no less than five tipsy men who had very little on, despite the cold weather outside. Maybe the alcohol was keeping them warm, or something. I politely declined and found my way to a spot near the bar so I could keep an eye on the crowd for Nelson.
I’d spent the rest of the day mulling over his words. Hard to
