Tales of the City 01 - Tales of the City

he?”
    “Oh?”
    “Well, I mean, how many people do you know who enter jockey shorts dance contests?”
    “I knew him. And I liked him, Rick.”
    “Well, pardon me, Mary.”
    “No, pardon me.”
    “What?”
    “It’s a full moon, Mr. Hampton, and I’ve had just about as much of this DAR meeting as I can take. Will you excuse me, gentlemen?” He pushed back his chair, stood up and nodded to his friend. “I’ll get a cab,” he said.
    “The hell you will,” said Collier Lane.
    They wore their Brioni blazers to the tubs.

Norman Confesses
    A FTER THREE WHITE WINES AT THE BEACH CHALET, Mary Ann felt much better about the bar’s Archie Bunker ambience.
    “I like this place,” she told Norman honestly. “It’s very … down-to-earth.” Beauchamp could just go to hell with his snotty crack about the VFW.
    “I thought you might get a kick out of the muriels,” said Norman.
    “The …?”
    “The paintings on the walls.”
    “Oh … yes, they’re beautiful. Art Nouveau, right?”
    Norman nodded. “Good ol’ Mr. Roosevelt and the WPA. Hey, how about a little walk on the beach?”
    The idea didn’t particularly appeal to her. It was cold outside, and there was something really cozy about the glowing beer signs and the bowling-jacketed patrons bellied up to the bar.
    She smiled at him. “ You’d like to, wouldn’t you?”
    “Yes.”
    “Is something the matter, Norman?”
    “No. I’d just like to take a walk, O.K.?”
    “Sure.”
    He smiled and touched the tip of her nose.
    She took Norman’s arm when they reached the sand, fortifying herself with his warmth. Beneath a full moon, the Cliff House gleamed like a mansion out of Daphne du Maurier.
    She was the first to speak.
    “Do you want to talk?”
    “I wish … never mind.”
    “What, Norman?”
    “I wish I was better-looking.”
    “Norman!”
    “The old part wouldn’t be so bad, if … forget it.”
    She stopped walking and made him turn to face her. “In the first place … you are not old, Norman. There’s no reason for you to go around apologizing for that all the time. And in the second place, you are a very strong, masculine and … appealing man.”
    He acted as if he hadn’t heard any of it. “Why do you go out with me, Mary Ann?”
    She threw her hands up and groaned. “You’re not even listening .”
    “Lots of guys are after you. I’ve seen the way Brian Hawkins looks at you.”
    “Oh, please!”
    “Don’t you think Brian’s handsome?”
    “Brian Hawkins thinks any woman who goes to bed with him is …” She cut herself short.
    “Is what?”
    “Norman …”
    “Is what?”
    “A whore.”
    “Oh.”
    “Norman … I wish I could show you the things you’ve got going for you.”
    “Don’t strain yourself.”
    “Norman, you ar e gentle … and considerate … and you believe in a lot of … traditional values … and you don’t make me feel like I’m out of it all the time.”
    He laughed bleakly. “Because I’m more out of it than you are.”
    “I didn’t say that. And thanks a lot!”
    “Do you think I could make you happy, Mary Ann?”
    She had been afraid of that one. “Norman … I always have a good time with you.”
    “That’s not what I asked.”
    “We haven’t known each other very long.”
    The line was so weak she was instantly sorry she had used it. She studied his face for damage. He seemed to be struggling with something. His features were strangely distorted.
    “I don’t push pills, Mary Ann.”
    “What?”
    “I don’t sell Nutri-Vim. I just told you that to … I just told you that.”
    “But what about the …?”
    “I’m coming into a lot of money really soon. I can buy you anything you want. I know I must look like a failure now, but I’m …”
    “Norman,” she said as gently as possible, “I don’t want you to buy me anything.”
    His face had eroded completely. He stared at her in desolation.
    “Norman …” She reached up and readjusted his new tie. “It looks … real nice on you.”
    “I’ll take you home.”
    “Please don’t feel like …”
    “It’s O.K. I just … want too much sometimes.”
    He said almost nothing on the way back to Barbary Lane.

What D’or Won’t Tell Her
    A FLUORESCENT PHONE BOOTH GLOWED LIKE ECTO plasm against the black slope of Alta Plaza as Mona and D’orothea strolled west up Jackson Street.
    Mona shuddered. “What a creepy place to make a phone call!”
    “You’re afraid of the dark?”
    “Terrified.”
    “I