My colleagues and I had gone to a great, albeit heterosexual, bar after work. It was a secretary's birthday and we all wanted to celebrate. I offered to get the next round and moved up to the packed bar-- waiting for my turn.

The game was on the suspended television above and tons of hot, sexy straight boys were cheering around me. I felt the testosterone level at a real high so I joined in too. Felt right at home, slapping shoulders-- "Yeahhhhhhh, go Rams!"

Then someone slapped my butt. Ooo, felt great. I turned around and looked straight into the eyes of Mark Fitzgerald, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. We winked at each other and I stifled the rollover in my stomach.

"I'm here for the same reason you are." he shouted over the crowd and then quickly paid for the round of drinks I'd ordered. Class. I told him they weren't even for me but he insisted-- asking me to give everyone his card if they ever needed representation for "all those malpractice suits."

I took the beers, the vodka shooters, and the tequilas back to the gang and then excused myself-- returning to Mark at the bar.

"I haven't heard from Drew -- has he gotten any more letters?" Mark asked. I told him yes, they were coming in pretty regularly but that Drew stopped keeping them.

"Not a good idea, Eric."

Mark pointed out how important it was to document every letter. I reminded him that Drew had no intention of going to court or to the police. Mark was adamant, "If Drew's not smart enough to realize how dangerous this could be, you have to influence him."

Mark was right.

Then he did the strangest thing.

"I'm only concerned because I care so much...Luigi."

"How did you know my real name?" I asked. He just smiled and walked away. I went after him.

"Hey, answer me, Mark. Did Drew tell you that?" Mark smiled again. Then nodded yes, admitting Drew had told him my "sexy name."

But suddenly, I was tense. I didn't like that Mark seemed to revel in secret knowledge.

"Look Mark, Drew is gonna be fine. He has me, I will make sure no harm comes to him. I agree that he should pursue this, but if he wants to just forget the whole thing, that's up to him."

"Whatever you say, Eric. But don't come crying to me when a dead cat shows up in your mailbox." Mark toasted me again and then reached around and grabbed my butt. I stood there -- feeling like there was a lot more to this scenario than we had just discussed as he went back to his own group of lawyer friends.

I suddenly felt the urge to call Andrew at home -- just to hear his voice. I went to the back of the bar, near the restrooms to use the pay phone. Turned the corner and saw Mark Fitzgerald making a call.

I waited.

He finished and walked towards me.

"You know, Eric. I heard some of the people from your office talking about you and your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend? What are you talking about?"

"They were joking and winking at each other -- one of 'em said, he thought your "girlfriend" looked pretty masculine. You might want to keep an eye out-- food for thought."

And he left.