Slate by Nathan Aldyne

apartment. And the front entrance to this building was locked. We don’t even know how Sweeney got in. In any case, I wouldn’t mind a gander at the coroner’s report.”
    â€œYou know,” said Linc, “even if he had had an orgasm, that doesn’t necessarily mean that somebody else was there, you know.”
    â€œYou don’t leave a party and break into a stranger’s apartment in order to masturbate,” sighed Valentine.
    They were quiet for several moments, and then Linc said, “Let’s talk about something else.”
    â€œIn the past six weeks,” said Valentine, “I’ve only had one subject of conversation, and that’s the bar. I was sort of glad when Sweeney came along and got killed. Now I have something else to talk about.”
    â€œWe can talk about the bar,” said Linc. “I like to talk about Slate. You know, Val, I’m proud when I tell my friends that you own the bar.”
    â€œClarisse’s uncle owns the bar,” said Valentine. “I just manage it.”
    â€œBut he’s gay, too, isn’t he?”
    â€œYes,” Valentine admitted.
    â€œAnd you run it. I think it’s very important for bars and gay businesses to be gay-owned and -operated. It’s a service to the community. Clarisse did a good thing when she got you into this.”
    â€œI guess,” said Valentine. “I just feel—I don’t know— cast adrift. It all happened so fast, and the building still looks like the set for This Property Is Condemned.”
    â€œWell, you might be depressed about it,” said Linc with a sigh, “but I’m just jealous.”
    â€œJealous?” Valentine echoed skeptically.
    â€œI don’t want to be a carpenter forever,” Linc said. “I mean, I was working with wood and tile today and I’ll be working with wood and tile tomorrow, but when I’m fifty-seven, I don’t want to still be working with wood and tile.”
    â€œWhat else would you want to do?”
    Linc smiled. “Retail.”
    â€œI was in retailing for a while—about eight years ago,” said Valentine. “It wasn’t all that great.”
    â€œMaybe for you,” Linc said, “but I’ve got a plan.” He glanced at Valentine, who said nothing, but whose eyes prompted Linc to continue. “Once I get the money up,” Linc said, “I’m going to open a shop in the South End. I’m already looking out for the right storefront. The location has to be right—that’s the most important thing. That’s another reason I’m jealous, because you were given these two buildings right here in the South End, the best place to be. I mean, it’s practically a gay ghetto now,” he said enthusiastically.
    â€œI’ve noticed,” said Valentine. “What sort of shop are you thinking about? Flowers? Antiques? Overpriced clothing? Movie memorabilia? Chic housewares and fancy foods? That’s about the gamut, isn’t it?”
    â€œRent-a-Wrench.”
    â€œI beg your pardon?”
    â€œTools,” said Linc. “I’ll be retailing what I know best: tools and so on. You know how people never seem to have the right tools on hand, so what I’ll do is provide a tool rental service so they don’t have to go out and buy the tools they’re only going to use once. I’m going to call it Rent-a-Wrench because wrenches are the one thing that gay men never have when they need them. The company’s motto will be ‘A Man and His Plumbing.’ Like it?”
    â€œVery much,” said Valentine uncertainly.
    â€œI’ve thought it all out. I don’t need much room, just one little storefront with some storage in the back: natural wood walls, marble counter, old-fashioned cash register, big neon sign in the front window, maybe with a flamingo or something. I’ll have the company’s logo on all the