“And what’s so wrong with having a few secrets?” I asked. “I thought it was harmless, and I didn’t really want to go out hunting with club members, either. It was nice to have some alone time.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I understand that. If you go out with club members, you still have to be their president.”
“Exactly,” I said. Priest just understood. “And I’m sure you have secrets, too.”
Priest shrugged. “Not really. I’m an open book.”
I rolled my eyes. “That’s not true.”
“What? It is!”
“Maybe you’re an open book, but you spend so much time worrying about everyone else that you don’t actually talk about yourself,” I said, then peered knowingly over my coffee at him.
Priest shrugged a little, then rubbed his hand over his hair, but he didn’t deny it. “Well. What do you want to know?”
I didn’t have any particular burning questions, but there was a gap in my knowledge that suddenly jumped to my mind. “You know, we met when you and Ankh moved here to start Hell’s Ankhor.”
“Right,” Priest said.
“I don’t know your wallet name,” I said—meaning the legal name on his ID card. “Never had to bail you out of jail or anything.”
Priest barked a laugh, sudden and surprised. “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack!” I insisted. “It’s never come up. Not like it’s important.”
“Wow,” Priest said. “Thirty years and it’s never come up.” He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s Harry. Well, Harold, technically, but I always went by Harry before I got my tag.”
Harry. I peered thoughtfully at him. “Hm. It’s a nice name, but I think I’m going to stick with Priest.”
“Please do,” he said through his laughter. “It’d be too weird if you suddenly started calling me Harry. Ankh didn’t even do that, unless he was mad at me or trying to make up for something.” He laughed again, and it was tinged with wistfulness. “He really could have a temper when he was younger. Volatile moods. It was one of the things that drew me to him.”
He sighed, and his gaze was slightly unfocused as he got caught up in the memory. I waited patiently, sipping my coffee. Priest didn’t continue, though, he just shook himself like he hadn’t meant to go silent.
“Sorry,” he said, flushing a little. “I don’t mean to spend all this time talking about Ankh.”
“What?” I asked. I tilted my head, genuinely surprised. “You don’t need to apologize for talking about him. I’d like to hear what you were thinking about—if you want to share.”
Priest’s gaze softened.
“He was my friend, too,” I said. “I don’t want you to think you shouldn’t talk about him. Especially between the two of us—I know it’s different to talk about him with someone who knew him as a friend and not just the president.”
“You’re right,” Priest said. “It really is different. Thank you.” He got that wistful look again, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “He was really cute and naïve when we first met. We’d hooked up at a bar, made out, all of that—and then he reveals to me he was straight. Apparently, I’d turned his world upside down.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said with a grin. “I’ve seen pictures of you from those years.”
“Oh, lay off,” Priest said, but he was still smiling. “We got closer, kept going on dates, and I knew he was still feeling a little scared about the connection between us, but I thought I’d take it one day at a time. So when he disappeared one day, I figured that was the end of it. I was pretty heartbroken, but I knew the risks of getting involved with a ‘straight’ guy, so I tried to move on. Couldn’t, obviously. And then a few weeks later, he showed up at my door super apologetic, with flowers and this big new plan to start a club with me.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “That man. He always had these big ideas. I almost turned him away when he showed up like that, but he was so passionate, I decided to give it another shot.”
“Glad you did,” I said. “Or else I would’ve been picking up the pieces.”
Priest started. “What do you mean?”
“He never told you?” I asked, eyes widening.
“Told me what?” Priest asked.
“About those weeks apart?”
“No!” Priest said. “I figured it was private. Getting his thoughts straightened out. Or less straightened out, I guess, forgive the pun.”
“Awful. Terrible pun.” I shook my head. “And you never asked?”