"Sorry, buddy, I haven't seen your guy since he came in here with you. Just give it time. He'll come home when he's ready."
The bartender gave Lupe a sympathetic shrug and stepped aside to serve a waif-like young man whose clothes seemed to be made of sparkly belts. It was Friday night and Rumble was packed with man meat. Behind Lupe a sea of flesh and leather danced to bone-rattling music like upright animals in some sweaty neon jungle. He hated places like this. He hadn't visited one in over a year, and only then because he was dragged by his boyfriend Tristan, who insisted their relationship needed its wheels greased with a little adventure.
Tristan was a regular at Rumble before they dated, and Lupe had reason to believe he had been returning here in secret in the weeks leading up to his disappearance. There was a photo on the club's website, taken the same night Tristan stormed out, in which a dark-haired man with Tristan's broad shoulders and long arms could be seen jumping blurrily with a group of ravers on the dance floor. Lupe was stung by the thought of his boyfriend, out partying while he sat at home mulling over their fight and checking his phone for messages every ten minutes. But as the minutes turned into days and the days into two weeks, Lupe developed the horrific theory that his lover had not returned because he was being held against his will. He must be hurt or trapped somewhere, waiting to be saved, wanting more than anything to be back in Lupe's forgiving arms.
The bartender gave Lupe a sympathetic shrug and stepped aside to serve a waif-like young man whose clothes seemed to be made of sparkly belts. It was Friday night and Rumble was packed with man meat. Behind Lupe a sea of flesh and leather danced to bone-rattling music like upright animals in some sweaty neon jungle. He hated places like this. He hadn't visited one in over a year, and only then because he was dragged by his boyfriend Tristan, who insisted their relationship needed its wheels greased with a little adventure.
Tristan was a regular at Rumble before they dated, and Lupe had reason to believe he had been returning here in secret in the weeks leading up to his disappearance. There was a photo on the club's website, taken the same night Tristan stormed out, in which a dark-haired man with Tristan's broad shoulders and long arms could be seen jumping blurrily with a group of ravers on the dance floor. Lupe was stung by the thought of his boyfriend, out partying while he sat at home mulling over their fight and checking his phone for messages every ten minutes. But as the minutes turned into days and the days into two weeks, Lupe developed the horrific theory that his lover had not returned because he was being held against his will. He must be hurt or trapped somewhere, waiting to be saved, wanting more than anything to be back in Lupe's forgiving arms.