A memorial service was held in the park off of Liberty Avenue on the anniversary of Kyle and Frankie's murders. Nearly one hundred people from the neighborhood showed up that evening despite the fact that the boys' identities were still not publicly known. It was rumored that the blond from the diner and the hustler known as Kyle were the victims, since they both seemed to have disappeared at the same time as the murders and they matched the descriptions, but the police would neither confirm nor deny anything about the case.

A beautiful old gazebo in the center of the park served as a makeshift stage for that evening's service. A few people got up to speak, saying some words about how the community could not let the fear of violence tear them down and how they needed to be strong together.

Eventually, Carl stepped up to the podium with Debbie, Brian, and Justin standing close by him.

"On behalf of my beautiful partner and some wonderful friends of ours, it's my honor to announce that there will soon be a shelter to house kids and young adults who have been tossed out by their families simply because of who they love," the old cop said. "Many of those young people find themselves engaging in illegal activities, such as theft and prostitution, because they have no other options. A private room at the shelter will be provided for free for to up to fifty homeless people, as long as they stay out of trouble and gain employment in a reasonable amount of time. We're hoping to partner with some local businesses who will offer the residents jobs and apprenticeships. The Silver Dollar Motel on Fifth will be renovated and renamed The Sunshine and Rainbows Shelter."

There was some applause among the crowd.

"Along with myself and my partner Debbie, the very generous owners of Kinnetik Advertising Incorporated will be donating a great deal of money towards The Sunshine and Rainbows Foundation, which will fund the purchase, renovation, and operation of the shelter. We will also be asking for volunteers with renovation skills to help out if they can. This project will be a benefit to the entire community."

Michael stayed in the background and out of sight at the memorial, not happy that his mother was still spending money on homeless kids and hustlers while refusing to help him out at all, other than giving him an occasional meal. No matter how many times he spoke to her, she refused to stop throwing her money away on others.

"Of fucking course they're putting up money, those two have more money than they will ever need," Michael muttered as he crushed the half-full beer can in his hand.

Michael's homemade ad for his store had done very little to boost sales. He still had pretty much the same amount of customers he always had. The few new ones that stopped in looked around but bought very little, if anything. He found himself having to sell his favorite old comics from his private collection online just to keep the lights on.

Michael knew that if things had worked out his way, he would have had all the money he wanted thanks to Brian's wealth. If he was with Brian, they definitely wouldn't be wasting "their" money on homeless hustlers who were better off dead, anyway. In Michael's experience, all they ever did when you helped them was take advantage of your generosity and leave after giving them everything you had to give.

Carl then moved aside so Debbie could speak. She began reading the words she had prepared off of a sheet of paper, since giving speeches was never her thing.

"Yes, Carl and I will be donating a lot of our own money to the foundation, but that, along with what Kinnetik is contributing, won't be nearly enough to get the shelter up and running. We will need the community to pitch in whatever you can. We will be holding a big carnival on the first Saturday in June to raise money. Every penny of the money raised will go directly to the foundation. The city is allowing us one block of Liberty Avenue to set up booths right outside of the diner and Woody's. There will be food, games, raffles, and a silent auction. We're hoping that local businesses will donate prizes and items for the auction. We'll need as many people as possible to donate their time to running the booths during the event. This will be a community effort, but I believe that if we work together, we can do this. Once the shelter is in operation, Carl and I, along with other volunteers, will be working very closely with the residents to help them achieve a better life."

She continued, "This all came about because of the reason we're all here tonight: to remember the two young men who had their lives stolen from them one year ago with senseless violence, two kids who were having a rough time but were doing the best they could."

Debbie then looked away from the page and directly at the crowd, tears welling up in her eyes.

"You know, maybe if something like this had been done before, maybe Frankie and Kyle would still be alive."

The crowd started buzzing at the mention of those two names.

"Honey..." Carl said as he tried to pull Debbie away.

"Yes, the rumors are true," Debbie confirmed. "Frankie Stevens and the boy that we knew as Kyle were the ones who were strangled to death and left in that alley. I know it was them, because I saw their bodies at the morgue. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone, but fuck it. Maybe we'll never know who killed them, but I can't go another day without everyone knowing their names."

She stepped out of the gazebo and started walking toward the car, Carl following behind her.

That announcement by his mother did little to quell the fury that was churning in Michael's gut. He was glad that they expected the public to chip in, instead of having more of the money come out of what would be his mother's estate. He didn't understand why she insisted on being the Mother of All Homos and constantly open her pocketbook to them. Michael felt that his mother should give him any extra money she had, not spend it on people that were not him, her only child.

He wasn't the only angry man standing in the shadows of the crowd.

Ethan Gold was between jobs yet again, never having achieved the major success he felt he deserved as a result of his immense talent. He always felt that at least part of the reason for this lack of major success was due to both Justin and Brian.

He blamed Justin because the blond had walked out on him after what Ethan saw as one tiny little misstep. Ethan needed release after being so stressed out over his performance in Harrisburg and his boyfriend wasn't there. Even though the reason Justin hadn't come was because he was told by Ethan's manager to stay away, Ethan felt it was still partially Justin's fault that he had strayed. He wasn't getting the support he needed from his boyfriend. He also blamed Brian because while Ethan was with Justin, Brian was still there in the background. Brian was always trying to butt in whenever the opportunity presented itself - first with the computer he had bought for Justin and insisted he keep, and then hiring the blond to do the posters for the Carnivale at the GLC. Brian was the one who told Ethan "There's nothing noble about being poor", prompting Ethan to go to that performance where he met that young fan in the first place.

He was still incredibly angry at both of those men and he carried that anger with him wherever he went. He would blow auditions, mess up during performances, and ruin every relationship he had, including the one with his former manager. He was broke and alone. He'd had to return to playing in the park when he was not getting steady work.

Ethan had kept up with Brian's and Justin's careers over the years. He found out that Brian opened his own ad agency when he saw the name "Kinnetik" mentioned in the business section of a newspaper he picked up one day on the bus. An internet search led him to the company's website, confirming his assumption that Brian Kinney was associated with it. He later saw a review for one of Justin's pieces in Artforum magazine, a magazine that he still paid for and had delivered to his home even after the blond's departure.

Some time later when Ethan was in Manhattan to perform in a small show that failed to sell even half the seats, he saw an advertisement for an art exhibit in Chelsea with none other than Justin Taylor as one of the featured artists. Ethan went to the show hoping to reconnect with his former flame, but Brian was also there, hanging all over the blond, so he did not approach him.

He heard through the gay grapevine that Justin and Brian got back together about five minutes after his breakup with the blond. He would never understand how, despite Justin's complaints that Brian didn't love him and wouldn't commit, he would run back into the man's arms. It was said that the two almost had a commitment ceremony, but called it off some time after Justin's Artforum review was published. They nevertheless looked very committed as the two of them stood inside the gazebo where Debbie had just finished speaking, standing together as if fused at the hip.

It infuriated Ethan to see that Brian was still so fucking beautiful. He did the math and figured Brian was now forty years old, which was positively ancient in the gay world, but his age did nothing to hinder his looks. He was aging gracefully and was what any man hoped to be, everything Ethan wasn't: tall, lean, educated, popular, respected, successful, hung, and filthy rich. The addition of the still-gorgeous Justin at his side added even more to his own perfection.

Someone in a car nearby began to play "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers from their speakers, prompting the crowd to start singing along. After a few more songs, people started to go home or out to the bars.

Michael stopped by his mother's house a few days after the memorial service. He had hung around waiting for Carl to leave the house, wanting to speak to his mother alone. He had to ring the bell, which really pissed him off. His mother never used to lock her doors and she'd even had the audacity to change the locks some time ago, so his old key didn't even work anymore.

Debbie opened the door and found her son standing there. By the look on his face, she knew this was not going to be a pleasant exchange.

"Hello, Michael. To what do I owe this visit?" she asked coolly as she stepped back to let him in.

"I heard about what you and Carl are doing, with that shelter," he sneered, trying to hold his temper.

"Yes. So what of it? It's something that's sorely needed in this community. It might save a lot of lives and give a lot of kids opportunities they wouldn't otherwise have. Do you have a problem with it?"

"Well, I was just wondering if you were planning to spend every cent of my inheritance on that and leave me with nothing," he said, glaring at his mother.

"Inheritance? Do you think I'm suddenly rolling in dough around here? Do you think I hit the lottery without telling you? Besides, what I do with my money is none of your fucking business. I don't owe you any money or an explanation for anything I do with what I earn," she answered, disgusted that her own flesh and blood was even asking her such a thing.

"I'm your son," Michael needlessly pointed out. "What do you expect me to do when you're gone? You know how much I've been struggling since Ben left me. You need to think about that before you give everything that should be mine away. Let Brian foot the bill. It's not like he doesn't spend enough on his blond whore and that fucking palace they live in..."

Debbie took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She knew her son wanted to fight about this, but she wasn't going to allow him to upset her. "I think you should leave if that's all you came here for; to bitch about money and about generous, wonderful men like Brian and Justin."

She paused when Michael scoffed at her choice of words.

"Michael, I have things to do, things that don't include explaining to a grown-ass man why his mother is helping people who need help, instead of saving everything she has busted her ass for to give to an overgrown spoiled brat. You of all people should be happy I'm doing this, since you once adopted a homeless kid, if you recall."

"Yeah, and the little shit doesn't even answer my calls anymore. He even dropped my last name, but kept Ben's, after we split. ‘Hunter Bruckner'... names that rhyme sound so stupid."

"I was ‘Debbie Grassi' for years. You have anything to say about that?"

Michael looked down at his shoes and put his hands in his pockets. "Um... I was hoping you were making an extra serving for dinner."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "You're like a stray dog, you only come around to sniff for scraps. I'll make you a sandwich and then you need to go. I have no time to entertain you."

"I can hang around here and wait for you to get back, if you need to go out."

"No, you can't. This is not a flophouse for you to hang around in. If Carl and I aren't home, then no one needs to be here."

She didn't bother to tell him that the carnival planning board was going out for dinner at an upscale steakhouse downtown. Although if he said anything else to piss her off, she just might.

Michael watched as his mother made him a ham and cheese sandwich, the way a hungry little boy would watch his mommy. She cut it into triangles and handed it over.

"Thanks, Ma," he said, kissing his mother on the cheek before letting himself out.

Debbie shook her head, wondering where she went wrong. She used to blame Brian for Michael's immaturity, but it was obvious now that the two men weren't friends anymore that it was all Michael and probably always had been. He refused to grow up and take responsibility for his life. Brian was a successful businessman in a committed relationship, while Michael could hardly afford to operate his fledgling comic book store. He'd ruined his marriage and his relationships with both of his children after risking it all for his teenage dream. He alienated all of his friends by scheming to tear Brian and Justin apart in the futile hope of trying to get Brian for himself. He only had himself to blame when he was rejected by everyone in his life but his mother, who had to remind herself every time he came calling that she loved him unconditionally. He was a selfish, spoiled brat and never made loving him easy with his "Poor Little Mikey" song and dance. He needed to find a better job and get over himself.

When Debbie and Carl got home later that evening after dinner, Carl turned to her and asked, "Honey, what's wrong?"

She tried to act nonchalant as she took off her jacket. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"No, you're not. I can tell something is bothering you. You were more quiet than usual at dinner. You didn't even critique the wait staff or make one inappropriate joke."

"I had a visitor today," she finally answered.

"What did Michael want, or rather, try to demand, this time?"

Carl didn't even have to ask who it could have been, since there was only one person who had this effect on his partner. He was beyond fed up with the whiny man-child who always expected his mother to give him money, food, and anything else he felt he was entitled to just for being her son.

Debbie sighed. "He's pissed that I'm ‘spending his inheritance' on people who shouldn't matter as much as him, while attempting to leave him with nothing."

"Are you hiding a huge nest egg from me? What is he expecting, something like Brian's bank account being left to him?"

"That's pretty much what I asked him. He eventually ended up asking for food, of course."

"Other than that, what's really bothering you about the visit?" Carl pressed, knowing that it wasn't just that Michael was insisting on getting every spare cent his mother had to supplement his income, because that was nothing new.

"He acted like it doesn't matter what happens to the kids that are basically thrown away by their families. He forgets how fortunate he was, having a mother who accepted his sexuality and who let him live here until he was able to provide for himself. He even made it sound like adopting Hunter had been a mistake. I've just got a really bad feeling about how he feels about the homeless kids around here, like they should just go away. Then he made a nasty comment about Justin, who he referred to as the ‘blond whore'..."

She finished, leaving the last part hanging for Carl to draw his own conclusion.

One afternoon the following week, two guys from the cleaning crew at Babylon were taking out the trash when they saw something by the dumpster. Walking around to the side to get a better look, one of the guys screamed, "Holy fuck, it's Justin!"