Tales of the City 02 - More Tales of the City

recall, I dragged you, hon.”
    “You were right, though. An ape in a girl mask would have been cuter.”
    “Whatever. Hey … how’s the tummy?”
    “Bigger.”
    “But not better?”
    “I don’t know, really. I worry a lot.”
    “About what?”
    “Nothing in particular. I know it’s morbid, but sometimes I get the creepiest feeling that something is wrong. My gynecologist says that’s typical for a first-timer, so I guess I just shouldn’t think about it so much.”
    “You need to get out more.”
    “I don’t think I could handle any more Ape Women.”
    “Well, don’t feel like the Lone Ranger, honey!”
    “Actually, I was wondering if you could handle going to a Junior League fashion show tonight?”
    Silence.
    “I know it’s late notice …”
    D’orothea chuckled throatily. “You don’t know how funny that is.”
    “I know it’s kind of a bore, but I thought we might get a giggle or two out of—”
    “I used to be a model, DeDe. At your father’s agency. At Halcyon Communications.”
    “What?”
    “I was one of the Adorable Pantyhose girls.”
    “Why didn’t you tell me?”
    “For one thing, your husband fired me … and I wasn’t sure if you find him as big an asshole as I do.”
    DeDe laughed, reservedly at first, then with happy abandon. “Oh, God, D’orothea. We separated, remember?”
    “Yeah, but things are so goddamn mellow these days. I mean, you two could be taking est together or going to Incompatibility Rap Sessions or something.”
    “How well did you know Beauchamp, anyway?”
    “Long enough to merit one of his infamous tirades.”
    “Why did he fire you?”
    “Oh … I didn’t show up for a couple of jobs. My skin was … I had a skin condition, and I looked like hell. It’s a long story.”
    “My precise words about me and Beauchamp!”
    “You still want me to go with you to that fashion show?”
    “Of course! Even more now.”
    “Sure they won’t check my pedigree at the door?”
    “Positive. We’re on, then?”
    “We’re on, honey!”
    Back in the city, something else was on. Douchebag had made final arrangements with Bruno Koski.
    “You got it straight now?” he asked on the phone.
    “Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
    “You don’t move until I call you. When I call, you run like hell up the hill to the Legion of Honor. You sure you know where …?”
    “I told you, man!”
    “It’ll be sometime after eight o’clock. I promise, punk—you screw this up and you won’t get the dough!”
    “O.K., O.K.”
    Bruno hung up.
    Fifteen minutes later, the punkette made preparations to leave. Her mother appeared in the bedroom door.
    “Do you have to wear that garbage bag?”
    “What’s wrong with it?”
    “Heidi, for God’s sake, it’s disgusting! It’s all torn and … disgusting.”
    “I told you to buy some new ones.”
    “I’m not going to argue with you. Where are you going, anyway?”
    “I … to the Mab.”
    “The what?”
    “The Mabuhay!”
    “You’ll miss The Brady Bunch. ”
    “Big deal.”
    “Heidi … promise me you won’t stick gum up your nose tonight.”
    “O.K.”
    Douchebag smiled at her mother, then retrieved a wad of Dentyne from her left nostril, popped it in her mouth and began to chew rhythmically.
    “See ya,” she said, heading out the door.

Thinking Out Loud
    I N LESS THAN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS MICHAEL’S PARALYSIS was complete. He could blink his eyes and move his lips, but the rest of him was horribly still. He looked at his visitor using a mirror angled over his bed.
    “Hi, lover,” he said.
    “Hi.”
    “Shouldn’t you be at the office?”
    “It’s O.K. Slow day.”
    Michael grinned. “Me too.”
    “I talked to Mary Ann. She and Burke are coming over later.”
    “God, I’m popular today! Miss Congeniality. Brian and the Three Graces just left.”
    “Who?”
    “That’s what I call ‘em now. Mona and Mrs. Madrigal and Mother Mucca.”
    Jon laughed. “They’re quite a trio.”
    “Yeah. And it’s good for Mona, too. I’m glad.”
    “Are you … doin’ O.K., Michael?”
    “Well … I remembered something funny today.”
    “Yeah?”
    “When I was a kid, fourteen or so, I used to worry about what would happen when I didn’t get married. My father was married when he was twenty-three, so I figured I had nine or ten years before people would figure out that I was gay. After that … well, there weren’t a whole lot of good excuses. So you know what I used to hope for?”
    Jon shook his