#incredibly gay crime syndicate book set in the 30s 40s and 50s that crosses over and through the first Partners installment when?

[artdecosupernova-writing]

Excerpt St. Guess

↳ Joey peered hard through the doors, cupping his hands around his eyes to get a better look inside. "Huh," he muttered, his breath fogging the glass in front of his face. "Well, it ain't a whiz-bang in there. Guess it's not open after all. Let's come back tomorrow."

Mickey looked in over Joey's shoulder and his expression settled on a concentrated frown. Farther inside the museum, in front of what Mickey could vaguely make out to be the security office, a man in a tan single-breasted suit without a hat spoke to a much more refined, older gentleman. The younger man took a catalog envelope from the older man and smiled personably, patting him on the shoulder and engaging with him directly, holding grateful eye contact. The older man smiled as well, shaking his hand as his brows pitched in apology.

"Are there people inside?" Joey asked.

Mickey watched the younger man laugh at something and turn toward the front of the museum. "Security guard talking to the director. Likely picking up a series of misplaced paychecks."

Joey stepped away from the door and urged Mickey to do the same. "What?"

"During the renovations, the staff paychecks were either misplaced, improperly handled, or halted," Mickey explained as he moved to stand closer to Joey. "One of the security guards has just received his back pay."

"How do you do that?" Joey shrugged, mystified. "One of these days, you gotta tell me how you do that."

"And give away my secrets? Joey." Mickey tutted with a grin. "It's fairly obvious."

"If it was obvious, d'you think I'd be standin' here makin' myself look stupid?"

"Hmm," Mickey intoned, choosing at the benefit of everyone not to respond to that otherwise.

The security guard opened the door, brushing past the pair as he exited. "'Scuse me, fellas," he said, gracing them both with the same warm smile Mickey had seen inside the museum.

Mickey locked eyes with him for one moment that dragged on like several. Neatly combed, blue-black hair—dyed. Shiny. Slicked down with pomade. His eyes were green, full of life, youthful in contradiction to the shallow crow's feet at the outer corners. His smile could have illuminated an entire room.

He shifted the envelope to his other hand and bounded down the steps.

Mickey watched him, his gaze tight. Willing the man to glance back at him.

Some physical distance grew between them before he did just that. He threw one last look behind him, halfway across the street, and the friendly smile developed into one of deep understanding…an acknowledgement of words unspoken, or perhaps a pass of pleased appraisal.

Joey's stare bounced from the man to Mickey. "You know him?"

"No," Mickey said.

But he was sure he would.