Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

his arm on Michael’s shoulder. “You bet. I wouldn’t rule it out, though … just because he needs you a little bit more than you need him.”
    Silence.
    “That’s it, isn’t it? It’s that way with me and Mary Ann … and she didn’t rule it out, thank God.”
    “Brian … she loves you very much.”
    Brian gave his shoulder a brotherly shake. “Needing and loving are two different things.”
    Another period of silence ensued as they skirted the dark rectangle of the newly-named Moscone Playground. A large car passed them, screeched to a halt, and backed up until it was even with them.
    A man in the passenger seat rapped his hand noisily against the side of the car. “Hey faggots! You a couple of cocksuckers?”
    Brian kept his arm on Michael’s shoulder. “What’s it to you, fella?”
    “Hey,” Michael whispered, “you’re supposed to say ‘yes, thank you’ and smile.”
    The man leaned out the window as the car kept pace with them. “What did you say to me, cocksucker?”
    “Just keep walking,” muttered Michael.
    “Huh, faggot … huh? Would you like to suck my cock, cocksucker? Is that what you want?”
    Michael noted that this witticism provoked raucous laughter from the back seat. There were at least four people in the car; one of them was a woman.
    “Hey,” said Michael. “I think it’s time to run for it.”
    “Fuck that,” said Brian.
    “What did you say, faggot?”
    Brian wheeled around and raised his middle finger to the heckler. “I said fuck you, buddy. Piss off!”
    The car lurched to a stop. People spilled out of it like circus clowns from a fire engine. The first one went straight for Michael, kicking him squarely in the groin. He toppled backwards, his head striking the sidewalk with an audible thud.
    He opened his eyes to see someone’s hands moving in on his throat. The man raised him from the sidewalk almost gently … then slammed his head back down against the pavement. The noise this time was muffled, liquid.
    “Hey,” someone shouted, “over here!”
    The man released Michael’s throat and ran to join the other two. One of them was straddling Brian’s chest; the other was holding his ankles. “O.K.,” said the man who had jumped Michael, “you ready to die, faggot?”
    When Michael saw the sudden flash of steel, he screamed in disbelief. “Please … please don’t … he’s not gay! He’s not gay!”
    But the knife came down again and again.

Home Again
    W HEN MARY ANN SPOTTED HER LE CAR IN THE long-term parking lot at San Francisco International, she felt an unexplainable surge of optimism.
    “You know,” she said, taking DeDe’s arm, “somehow I think the worst part is over.”
    DeDe’s expression was hollow, devoid of hope. “Please don’t try to make things better,” she said. “You’ve done enough already. Really.”
    “I’m not trying to make things better. I really feel that way. If he came back with them on the ship … in full view of everybody … then, he must not have intended to kidnap them. Not in the usual sense, anyway. I mean … he may be crazy, but it doesn’t sound like he’s dangerous.”
    “Sure,” said DeDe. “That’s what they said back in ‘78.”
    Mary Ann proceeded cautiously. “But … we don’t really know for sure if this Starr guy was really …”
    “Stop saying that. I know. I know he is. He acted out that nursery rhyme, didn’t he? And Prue’s description seems perfectly compatible with …” She stopped in mid-sentence.
    “With what?” asked Mary Ann.
    “With … the way he looked.”
    “What did she tell you, anyway?”
    “Who?”
    “Prue. When you talked to her alone.”
    DeDe looked away. “This isn’t the time for that.” Mary Ann unlocked the door of the car, climbed in and unlocked DeDe’s door.
    DeDe got in, saying nothing.
    “When will it be?” asked Mary Ann.
    Hesitating, DeDe looked directly at her friend. “Later … all right?”
    “All right,” said Mary Ann.
It was simple fatigue that prompted the long silence on the drive to Hillsborough. They needed time for healing, Mary Ann realized—time to be free from the crisis at hand … and each other. When they pulled into the circular drive at Halcyon Hill, Mary Ann approached the subject directly.
    “I think we need a break,” she said, “and some sleep. Why don’t you let your mother pamper you for a while? I’ll call in the morning and we’ll talk.”
    DeDe leaned over and hugged her. “You’ve been