T H R E E
W H E E L S
S P I N N I N G
P A R T
3
“You wound me to the core.” Ira brought the back of his arm to his forehead in a deadpan gesture of mock grief. Jack stared at him blankly. “January eighth was the day of the benefit. It was six months ago that you met me. And, for what it’s worth, Raymond.” “Ryan.” “Ryan.” “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not real good at dates. Happy six months anniversary.” “Don’t apologize. It’s not a holiday with storewide sales. Just a minor landmark. But think about who’s still around. And who’s not.” It certainly gave Jack something to contemplate. Acting on the assumption that Ryan’s exit meant a change in the nature of their relationship, Ira started to talk in terms of taking things a step further. It certainly was tempting. Ira had a great deal to offer. But after thinking it over long and hard, Jack saw that for as different as Ryan and Ira were, they had one thing in common—each of them wanted him to join their world full-time, while only supplying him with half of what he needed. Even if it was they who had shown him what it was he needed in the first place. Ryan combined with Ira had made for one great tag team. But neither alone was sufficient. He told Ira, meaning it, that he hoped they’d still be friends. Whether he would ever find what he was looking for conveniently packaged in one human being was a question for a later date. He wouldn’t be moving to Paris. But he might hit the Tunnel once in a while, especially now that his weekends were free. Which, he decided, was no indication whatsoever that he was under the influence of male menopause, channeling Peter Pan by way of Tinkerbell. That was Ryan. What had he gotten from Ira? Well, now that he knew it wouldn’t be a way of life, he would occasionally go out for a nice dinner, at a grown-up restaurant. Tinkling crystal and muffled laughter could be nice sometimes. Even if he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d be using for money. Ira had inspired him to work a little harder on getting somewhere with his art career, too. He’d start talking to people more. Trying things, just for the sake of trying them. Making his own adventures. And getting laid, for Christ’s sake. New York might not be the way it was, but that’s what made it New York—the fact that it was always changing in unexpected ways. Giving itself a major overhaul every few years. There was a lesson in there somewhere. G ene
W isniewski