Excerpt: Synergy, by Everett Maroon

a little ensemble novel about LGBT people and oh, the last 40 years or so

If the books on the first floor are new releases with crisp, bright covers, the volumes upstairs mark an older epoch in LGBT literature, with the scent of old paper hovering over them. Here there are faded books with illustrations from Tom of Finland, calls to action by former leaders of the gay civil rights movement, handmade books that retell children’s fairy tales from a lesbian perspective. Alex marvels at the bygone books, surprised at how much sex they contain, and excited that they are a quarter of the price of anything in the main room.

Under his arm he collects a small stack, holding on to the shaking railing with his other hand as he makes his way back to the checkout counter. The white-haired clerk grins at the number of purchases Alex deposits between them.

“Excellent choices,” he says, punching numbers into the register.

“Oh, could I get a rainbow sticker, too,” asks Alex, plucking one off of a short pile and putting it on his stack. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a teenager in a dirty windbreaker watching him. The kid is overly nervous, or twitchy, maybe a meth head, not so popular in these parts. He turns to face her full on.

“How’s it going,” he asks.

The teen stares back at him blankly.

“I only ask because—”

“Nobody wants to talk to you, creep,” says the kid, dropping the porn magazine she’s holding and marching out the door.

“Wait, no!” Alex stands with one foot on the sidewalk, a good four inches lower than the floor inside. “I’m not a creep!” The teen is halfway to Delancey Park, so Alex sighs and heads back to the counter.

“I’m not a creep,” he declares again.

“Too bad,” says the cashier.

“Aren’t you hilarious? Look, you know about the new queer high school? I work there.”

“Oh, that’s a great project. I really hope you guys get it off the ground.”

“What do you mean?” Alex hasn’t heard any gossip—not that he’s tried.

“Well, renovation projects always cost more than you think they will. And you know, the school board isn’t really into it. Bunch of homophobic bastards, if you ask me. That’ll be $19.53.”

Alex fishes in his wallet and pulls out twenty dollars in small bills.

“Say, does that kid come in a lot?”

“Sure, what else does she have to do? I used to chase those kids out of here, but then I figured they get into less trouble if they’re here than at that flop house.”

“What flop house?”

“There’s an abandoned building over on uh, Forest Place. Little street, one block long.” He gives Alex a long look as if he’s seeing him for the first time. “You shouldn’t go over there, you know.”

“Well, maybe we can do a bit better for her than letting her read On Our Backs every afternoon.”

“What am I, a social worker? Get out of here with your righteous ass.”

Alex waves to the old man and smiles, because he’s nailed it, after all.