Shame

outcast, but that was something he could live with.
    What was harder to live with was the memory of Earlene’s words. “Squeeze it,” she had kept saying.
    And he had wanted to. God help him, but he had.

22

    C ALEB TRIED TO find a comfortable position, but there wasn’t one. He hated being tied up. Not being in control was almost more than he could stand. He had designed his life to have that control, but now he had to rely on someone else. Worse, he was at her mercy.
    Lola noticed his contortions. “Can I get you a pillow?” she asked.
    “I’m fine,” he said. “Are you all set to make that call?”
    “I ought to be. We’ve been over it three times.”
    “Remember, don’t give her your name. Don’t even give her your sex.”
    “That explanation would probably take too long anyway.”
    “Make everything short and sweet. Just say you’re my friend. You can identify yourself as an intermediary.”
    “I think I prefer the word
in-between.”
    Her pun made Caleb frown.
    “Don’t worry, I’ll go by the script,” Lola said. “I’ll ask her why she identified you as her attacker.”
    “It had to have been a publicity ploy,” Caleb said, as if trying to convince himself of that.
    “And then I’ll ask her if she has had any luck in finding anything from your father’s past that could tie in with what’s occurred.”
    “Tell her I’m carefully reviewing her book. But what I need are the stories that aren’t in the book.”
    “And last, you want me to ask about your wife and children, find out if she’s helped them, and how they are.”
    “Maybe you should take a checklist with you.”
    Lola shook her head emphatically. “Santa Claus might need to make a list and check it twice,” said Lola, “but I don’t. I’m a performer. I’ll remember my lines.”
    Caleb shrugged. Tied up as he was, that was about all he could do.
    “But I guess I’ve got Santa’s job, don’t I?” Lola said, suddenly serious. “I’m the one who’s going to have to determine who’s been naughty or nice.”
    Their eyes met, took in one another beyond their usual furtive glances. She wasn’t what he expected. The only drag queens he’d ever seen had been on television, and all they had wanted to do was make spectacles of themselves. Lola wasn’t that way.
    He looked away first. It wasn’t only the duct tape that made him uncomfortable. Lola did. She was wearing a tight black dress with sheer sleeves.
    “Do you always wear women’s clothing?”
    “Always. Except on Halloween. Sometimes I dress like a man.”
    “But you are a man.”
    “My soul, my anima, is feminine, while my parts are masculine. I have no problem with that union, even if others do. It unsettles some people, offering them possibilities that scare them. To be different is to be suspect.”
    “No argument here,” said Caleb, opening a small autobiographical window.
    “I watch faces as I perform,” said Lola. “I see lots of civil wars going on out there, men both attracted and repulsed by me. Oh, how those faces talk.”
    “Have you always been a performer?”
    “Uh-huh. I don’t think I’m qualified to do anything else except maybe sell cosmetics, and I don’t think too many department stores would want me working behind the counter.”
    “Do you like your work?”
    “Ever hear of a diva that didn’t? Most of the impersonator revues are just lip-synching, but I get to do some of my own singing and my own editorializing.”
    With
a cappella
ease, Lola did her best Smokey Robinson snippet, singing the words “tears of a clown.” Her voice was clear and vibrant, and the four words seemed to mean a lot to her.
    “Drag queen national anthem,” she said. “It’s usually sung as our makeup’s being removed.”
    Caleb raised his tied hands. “You’ll have to imagine my applause,” he said.
    Lola reached her hand out, stopped just short of touching his bonds and his hands. “I don’t feel good about leaving you like this. What if there’s a fire?”
    “What if you untie me and there’s another murder?”
    Lola didn’t answer. There hadn’t been time enough for either of them to come up with an alternative to tying him.
    “I can stand it for a few more hours,” Caleb said.
    “Imagine your father having to put up with it for his entire childhood.”
    “I don’t know much about that,” Caleb said.
    “It’s in the book.”
    “I skipped ahead. I didn’t see how his childhood could be relevant to my