Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

suspense wasn’t killing me.”
    ________looked at Ned. “You two aren’t married, huh?”
    “No way,” said the nurseryman, winking at Michael.
    “He needs a lover,” _______told Michael. “Find a lover for him, will you?”
    “He turns them away every week,” said Michael.
    “Is that right?” asked________.
    Ned shrugged. “I like being single. Lots of people like being single. Michael likes being single.” He looked to his friend for confirmation of this fact.
    “He likes being a slut,” said Michael.
    ________roared, then crooked his arm around Ned’s head and kissed his naked scalp. “I love this slut,” he said. “Hey … how bout a house tour, you guys?”
    “I think I’ll pass,” said Ned.
    “Hot date?” asked ______.
    Ned nodded, smiling. “Somebody named Scott.”
    The matinee idol turned to Michael. “What about you?”
    “Sure,” said Michael. “I’m game.”
    The house tour included an extensive film library, the pool and cabanas, a terraced garden under the deck off the pool, and the upstairs bedrooms. In the bedroom, ________ flung open the French windows overlooking the guests. “The movie should start in a minute. That’ll quiet things down.”
    “What’s the movie?” asked Michael.
    The actor made a face. “__________. Pure crapola, if you ask me.”
    “I’ve never seen it,” Michael admitted.
    “There’s a reason for that,” grinned__________.
    Michael looked at him directly for the first time. “I think you put yourself down too much. Those guys must be down there for something.”
    “Who?”
    “All those … Scotts and Grants. That must tell you something. If you’re fooling people about your talent, at least you’re fooling a lot of them.” Michael smiled suddenly, embarrassed by his own audacity. “If you ask me, that is.”
    The movie star appraised him jovially. “You work with Ned at the nursery, huh?”
    “Right.”
    “And you guys sing together in some sort of group?”
    “Uh-huh.” Michael couldn’t hide his pride. “The Gay Men’s Chorus. We’re touring nine cities beginning next week.”
    The movie star frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand that.”
    “What?”
    “Why some people make such a big deal out of being gay.”
    Michael hesitated. He’d heard this line countless times before, usually from older gay men like ______ who had suffered silently for years while other people made a big deal out of their homosexuality. “We just want to make it easier for people,” he said at last. “Easier for straight people to like us. Easier for gay people to be proud of their heritage.”
    ______chuckled ruefully. “Their heritage, huh?”
    Michael felt himself bristling. “That’s a good enough word, I think.” He looked at the movie star and smiled. “You’re part of it, incidentally.”

DeDe
    T HE WOMAN WHO STOOD THERE WAS ALMOST A STRANGER , not at all the marshmallow-plump post-debutante that Mary Ann remembered from days gone by.
    This woman was wiry and brown, with long, sun-bleached hair that flowed down her back in a ponytail. Dressed up in one of her old shirtwaists—vintage 1975 or so—she seemed as awkward as a desert island castaway attempting to walk in shoes again.
    Mary Ann was speechless. She stared at DeDe, then turned back to Mrs. Halcyon, slackmouthed. “I can’t … I never dreamed …”
    Mrs. Halcyon beamed, obviously delighted with the impact she had made. “You two need to get acquainted again. I’ll leave you alone for a while. If you need anything, Emma can help you.” The matriarch squeezed her daughter’s arm, pecked her on the cheek, and entered the house through the double doors on the terrace.
    Mary Ann fumbled for words again, advancing clumsily to embrace the apparition that confronted her. “I’m so glad,” she murmured, almost on the verge of tears. “I’m so glad, DeDe.”
    She was glad mostly that someone could have a happy ending to the Jonestown tragedy. She had never known DeDe very well; she had simply been the boss’s daughter. And Beauchamp’s wife. The two women, in fact, had seen each other last at Beauchamp’s funeral, where neither had made a particularly visible display of grief.
    Mary Ann let go of DeDe, suddenly remembering: “Oh … the twins?”
    DeDe smiled. “Upstairs. Sleeping.”
    “Thank God.”
    “Yes.”
    “And … D’orothea?”
    “She’s in Havana,” said DeDe.
They sipped wine by the pool while DeDe told her story.
    “D’orothea