Free boystown by marshall thornton

gone a little deaf.
    Lincoln Park runs up and down the lakeshore on the north side. Certain parts, like the parking lot at Foster Beach, a thicket of bushes further to the south, and the Belmont rocks, were known to be cruisy. Donnie was taking Brian over to the parking lot for Foster Beach, which was just beyond the underpass he and Brian were now walking through.
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    Somewhere in the parking lot or the trees nearby he was going to shoot Brian. With my gun. In my clothes -- clothes he’d make sure to get Brian’s blood on. Then he’d walk away. He’d change the clothes somewhere. His car maybe. Then stash the clothes and the gun somewhere they were sure to be found. Like in a garbage can behind my apartment building.
    Well, that answered the ‘why me’ question. Donnie’s plan came into focus. Find a gay PI to dig up Brian’s address, then frame him for Brian’s murder. Economical. Elegant even. Killing Brian in a known cruising spot would make the police think it was some sick, psychosexual thing.
    They’d find me pretty quick. Possibly through an anonymous tip. I’d tell them I’d been hired to find Brian. By a client I couldn’t produce.
    As we approached the parking lot, I noticed there were half a dozen cars. That was a surprise.
    The wind had picked up, and it continued to snow heavily. These were not guys out for an evening stroll. These were guys sitting in their cars trying to meet other guys sitting in their cars, or better -- walking by. I couldn’t believe it. I’ve done a lot of stupid things trying to get laid, but this seemed extreme.
    I think the cars were a surprise to Donnie as well, because he turned Brian toward the beach.
    Roughly forty feet separated us. He hadn’t noticed me, yet. He would eventually. Of course, he’d have no idea who I was. Even when I got close.
    The beach was covered in a foot of snow. I wouldn’t even have known I was on the sand if the ground beneath my feet hadn’t suddenly seemed to soften and shift. Donnie was looking from side to side. He didn’t want to shoot Brian on the beach. Too open, too visible to the cars in the parking lot. Several of which had their lights on. He seemed to make a decision and turned Brian suddenly to the right.
    In that direction, there was a small pier with a thirty-foot-tall beacon at the end. The beacon was made of sheets of steel for the first fifteen feet and then crisscrossing girders after that. A light at the top spun slowly around. Ice had formed at the edge of the beach and all around the pier.
    Seeming all too aware of what was about to happen, Brian abruptly tried to pull away from Donnie. But Donnie kept hold of him, and I caught a glimpse of my Smith & Wesson as Donnie brought it up to Brian’s face and held it there. Brian stopped struggling, and Donnie pushed him forward.
    I picked up my pace, trying to close the distance between us. The wind was driving waves of water over the pier, and I wanted to get to them before they reached it. I started to run, but lost my footing in snow-covered sand. I got up as quickly as possible and trudged on. Moments later, they were at the pier. Brian was resisting again.
    “Good boy,” I muttered to myself. “Slow him up.”
    A wave washed over Brian’s legs from the knees down. He shivered so hard I could see it twenty-five feet away. The wind began to carry snippets of sound to me. “... don’t... I don’t want...” “...up, you god-damn...” “... please, no...”
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    Brian turned around and looked in my direction. I couldn’t tell if he saw me. If he did, he was smart enough not to let on. Donnie scrambled onto the pier. I wasn’t sure what Donnie was doing. He could be planning to kill Brian and then roll his body into the water. But that didn’t make sense. If he wanted to frame me, there needed to be a body. The back of the lighthouse might be where he was heading. It didn’t look like it could be seen from the parking lot. It was