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I stepped into the RV, realizing West wasn’t inside, which was a surprise. He’d been organizing and labeling everything to make it easier to put our hands on things along the way. Time would be precious to reach San Francisco by June 25 with adding ten stops along the way to highlight LBTQ+ charities, but I’d never seen anyone as determined to stick to the schedule as West.

“West? Sweetheart?” I stepped outside and went down the alley and around the building to find West in front of Eaton Cycles talking to a woman with a cameraman and a microphone. Standing behind her was Edmond Aames. I slowly approached, staying off camera, and stopped to hear what the woman was asking West.

“Why are you doing this charity ride, Weston?”

Weston, my beautiful, kindhearted boyfriend, smiled. “When I first came up with idea, it was for the wrong reasons. I thought doing this ride would make me look like a good guy, but as I’ve met people and learned what others endured because they were a member of my rainbow community, I changed my mind.

“I feel the responsibility to do as much for my community, a beautiful, colorful, loving community with lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transgendered, queer, intersexual, and asexual folks, who are asking for nothing more than their rights to be recognized and to be treated fairly and equally. We—and I say we because I’m a member of this community—aren’t taking anything away from anyone by just being alive. We work, pay our taxes, vote in elections, fall in love, start families, and live our lives as productive members of this country. Is it too much for us to ask to be treated equally under the law?”

The young woman, who I thought looked like a reporter on our local news, gave West a smile. “Are you making anything on this ride? You have sponsors. Are they donating to you to pay for the ride?”

West chuckled. “No. Nobody associated with this ride is giving me a penny. I’m paying for the expenses associated with it out of my own pocket. My sponsors have committed to donate to their chosen rainbow charity so we can bring the issues of our community into the conversation about what equality means for people who are minority members of our society. It doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone in this country, and I will be posting interviews with those I meet along the way so they can share their stories regarding what their life is like where they live.”

“Is there any way we can keep up with you while you’re on this ride?” the reporter asked.

“I have a YouTube channel viewers can subscribe to: Weston’s LGBTQIA Ride for Equality. I’ll be posting content, including interviews, tours of facilities that cater to our rainbow community, and information on my sponsors and their chosen charities. It’s free to subscribe, so I hope you will.” Weston smiled at the camera.

The reporter turned to give her sign off. “We’ll put a link to Weston’s channel on our home page. This is Cheri Todd, WNYC News at Six. Back to you in the studio.”

The camera guy said, “We’re out,” and removed the camera from his shoulder. The reporter began winding the microphone cord and handed it to the camera guy who put it in the van parked at the curb in front of the shop.

Cheri Todd stepped over to West and spoke quietly for a moment before they both joined Edmond and me. “Mr. Aames, thank you for bringing this story to our attention. It will be a great piece for tonight’s broadcast, and we’ll check in with Weston along the way. I know many of our viewers will subscribe and follow along. It’s a great story.”

She shook Edmond’s hand, waved to Weston, and the cameraman drove them down the street. I turned to Edmond. “What was that?”

“Yeah, Uncle Edmond. What the hell was that. You don’t just show up at a guy’s house with a news crew and no notice. I almost didn’t answer the phone when you called for me to meet you in front of Eaton Cycles. We’re packing the RV for the trip.”

Edmond gave a shark-toothed grin. “That, my boy, was free publicity. I’m a member of the New York Bar Association, and at one of the charity events the bar supports, I met the legal counsel for WNYC. Nice guy, and I’ve had dinner with him and his wife a couple of times.

“Anyway, we both sit on the disciplinary committee, and we had a meeting last week regarding a crooked lawyer we’re going to disbar. It was the same day you wanted to go to lunch and I couldn’t go because we were having a hearing. After the vote, I got to talking to my friend over drinks and told him about your ride. He has a gay son who’s going to UConn and is involved in a few activist groups on campus. My friend asked if you’d give an interview to WNYC before the ride begins to draw attention to the issue, and I said of course you would. People watch the evening news, Weston, and they’ll see this story. You did a fantastic job with the interview.”

Edmond then turned to me. “You missed the first part, but it was just as good as the end, and it will give this ride a lot of free publicity. They’ll link the interview on their website so others can watch it, too. You don’t mind that we shot the interview in front of your store, do you?”

I glanced up to see the front window of my shop with the Pride flag hanging in it, and I chuckled. “You old son of a gun. You know I don’t mind because, as you said, it’s free publicity.”

Edmond laughed. “Hey, I have my moments. Anyway, let’s go sit down. West, I want to talk to you for a few minutes before you finish your preparations for the trip.”

“Let’s go inside and have something to drink.” I led the way around the corner, locked the RV that I’d parked behind the building, and we went through the back door and up the stairs to the apartment.

“Edmond, would you like a beer or coffee? I’m afraid I don’t have much else. We cleaned out the fridge a little while ago.”

Edmond grinned. “I’m going out for dinner in a while, so just water, Bridges, please.” He pulled out a stool at the counter and sat down while Weston still seemed to be ruminating in what had just happened.

I filled a glass with ice and filtered water from the front of the fridge, handing it to Edmond. I leaned against the sink before taking West’s hand and pulling him to stand in front of me where I wrapped my arms around him and rested my hands on his flat abs.

“What’s going on now? Has the apartment sold?” Weston asked.

I jumped in. “Yeah, you didn’t tell me you were selling the apartment out from under them. Isn’t it part of the estate? I’m still the executor, right?”

“Yes you are, but no, the apartment isn’t part of the estate. It belongs to Aames Investments. It’s on their books as an asset, and I wanted to get it off before anything happens with disbursement of the estate in July. When Claude was first diagnosed, there were some experimental drugs and treatments that May and he wanted to try, so the firm bought the apartment to give him the liquidity he’d need because none of the experimental procedures would be covered by insurance. Claude had the rent taken from his monthly draw.

“The chance to sell it and get it off the books came up when a friend of mine wanted to buy it after he learned of Claude’s death, and the firm made a nice profit on holding it.”

West glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at me. He then turned back to Edmond. “So that business about renting the apartment from the estate wasn’t bullshit?”

Edmond appeared startled. “No, Weston. Do you think I’d try to cheat you? I’d never do that. This was a great opportunity for you and May to get out from under that behemoth. You two wouldn’t want to continue to live in that mausoleum. Claude only wanted it because he said it was a symbol of his success, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled to live there either. The firm, along with all of its assets, will come to you after you finish this ride, so I want it to be hugely successful, and I’m telling everyone I know about it.”

West placed his hands on my forearms around his shoulders. “If I don’t want to run Aames, what happens to it?”