Page 39 of A Straight Line

“That sounds like bullshit,” Harry said.

“Harry,” Vic repeated his warning.

Loving my Uncle Harry was never a problem. Loving my Uncle Vic was never a problem, either, for that matter. But from time to time, I just wanted to tell Harry to go fuck himself. How dour I’d been the last several months, and how stubborn I was being in general, had not escaped me. I was well aware of my problems—even if I didn’t know how to fix them. I didn’t need Harry to throw that in my face. I didn’t need anyone to remind me that I had my head firmly up my own ass. I just needed time to figure out how to extricate it.

Don’t tell him to go fuck himself. I thought. It’s their big night.

Harry waved a hand towards the crowd like shooing away a fly.

“Just go out there and cut in,” He said. “I may not know a lot, but I know that boy won’t mind you cutting in. He’s been eyeing you all night.”

“Harry,” Vic said, “leave Russ alone now. Tonight’s just supposed to be fun. We don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“I’m just saying that he’s been following Russ around like a puppy dog all night,” Harry said. “Obviously, he’s interested in getting to know him better. One dance won’t hurt him any. Just go out there, tap him on the shoulder, and—”

“We’re looking for Harry and Victor Thomas!” A static-y, mechanical voice suddenly rang out over the crowd.

Harry, Vic, and I all jumped at the sound of the announcement, which was obviously coming from a bullhorn, but it took Bird and everyone dancing a little longer to catch up. Like a record on a turntable that is slowly running out of power, Bird shut the music off, and everyone stopped dancing. Vic, Harry, and I all were looking over the crowd, trying to figure out what was going on and where the screeching of the bullhorn had come from in the backyard. Due to the confusion at the music suddenly stopping and everyone that had been dancing stopping, there was chaos for several moments. Then the loud announcement came again.

“We need to find Harry and Victor Thomas!” The mechanical voice rang out again.

Immediately, I could tell that the announcement was coming from the side of the house closest to the garage, which was across the yard from where Harry, Vic, and I stood near the patio. I gave my uncles a nudge and flicked my head in the direction of the garage. My uncles grabbed each other’s hands as I started to lead them through the crowd so that we could find out who had been using a bullhorn to try and get their attention.

In my mind, I just knew that it was going to be the cops waiting for us. It was well after midnight, loud music was playing, a bunch of queer people of all different colors were gathered with alcohol—that was a recipe for “here comes the cops.” Murmurs started to tear through the crowd as everyone slowly started to figure out what was going on and began turning to watch the three of us making our way towards the garage. Once we got through the sea of people and exited the crowd by the garage, my suspicions were confirmed. Two officers, in full uniform, were standing by the corner of the house. The officer in front, a tall, built guy, had a bullhorn held in one hand, dangling at his side. I glanced over at Harry and Vic as we approached them. I was nervous to see the cops, but Harry and Vic just looked curious.

A couple of older gay men probably don’t get too frazzled when cops show up at a party. I thought to myself.

The officers’ eyes landed on our trio.

“Are you Harry and Vic Thomas?” The officer with the bullhorn asked, just loudly enough for everyone at the party to hear.

Everyone was staring at us and the cops in wonder. You could have heard a pin drop.

“That’s us, yes,” Vic answered for them. “What can we help you with?”

“I’m Officer Johnson, and this is Officer Smith,” The lead officer announced, “Littleburg Police Department.”

“Oh, shit.” Someone far back in the crowd hissed.

I was pretty sure it was Officer Michael Hadsford. The corner of my mouth turned up slightly.

“We kind of assumed that, officer,” Harry said. “The uniforms gave it away. You guys must be new. Don’t recognize you at all.”

I wanted to reach over and nudge Harry in the arm for being smart-alecky to the officers who had obviously shown up about a noise complaint. Hell, maybe they were going to charge everyone with obscenity. We were all queers—or queer adjacent. Instead of getting upset with Harry’s smart mouth, Officer Johnson, the one with the bullhorn, just smiled.

“We’ve been sent here to pick you up, sirs.” He said.

“What?” Uncle Vic looked over at me. “We’re not going to jail. We’ve done nothing wrong.”

“What’s going on?” I couldn’t stop myself. “My uncles are just throwing a party because they sold their bar. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

Harry and Vic motioned for me to be quiet.

Officer Johnson held his hands up defensively.

“We’re not here to pick you up to take you to jail, sirs,” Officer Johnson said.

Murmurs went through the crowd again. I could understand everyone’s confusion. Why were officers from the Littleburg Police Department here to “pick them up” if not to take them to jail? Where were they taking them?