Tales of the City 03 - Further Tales of the City

chair facing the bed.
    “Let’s do it,” he said quietly.
    She rubbed her eyes. “What?”
    “Get married.”
    She blinked several times, then smiled sleepily. “Telepathy,” she said.
    “Yeah?”
    “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I figured it was just Taurus meets Venus. What’s your excuse?”
    He shrugged. “I thought I’d better make an offer before you’re on the cover of People.”
    She grinned. “Take your time.”
    “No. I’m proud of you. I want you to know that. Great things are about to happen to you, Mary Ann, and you deserve every bit of it. I think you’re an amazing person.”
    She looked at him lovingly for a long time, then patted the empty spot next to her. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
    “Don’t change the subject. I can adore you just as well from over here.”
    “As you wish, sire.” It was true, anyway; she could almost feel it.
    “When is the press conference?” he asked.
    “Tuesday.”
    Brian whistled. “Close.”
    “It’s not actually a press conference. The station won’t give me air time without knowing what I want it for, and I’m not about to tell them at this point.”
    “Then how will you do it?”
    “I’ve got my own show, remember?”
    When the light dawned, Brian shook his head in wonderment. “Jesus, that’s brilliant!”
    Mary Ann accepted the compliment with a gracious nod. “How many escapees from Jonestown get to resurface on the afternoon movie show? I figure we can drop the bomb, then wait for somebody else to organize the press conference.”
    “What sort of bomb is it?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean … give us a preview.”
    “Well …” Mary Ann pondered the request for a moment. She didn’t want to talk about DeDe’s double theory yet. It was still too shaky in her own mind. “For one thing, she escaped down the river in a tin drum that was intended for tropical fish. And Jones raped her one time when she was bedridden.”
    “Jesus,” murmured Brian. “I guess that oughta hold ‘em.”
    “It’s a story, all right.”
    “Do you think you can tell it all in five minutes?”
    Mary Ann shook her head. “We won’t even try. We’ll sketch out the basics and give the rest to the highest bidder. I like doing things on my own terms. Speaking of which, come to bed.”
    “You still haven’t answered my question.”
    “I know.”
    “You don’t have to answer it, actually. I just wanted to ask you before the commotion began. I wanted you to know.”
    “I’m glad to know.” She smiled at him tenderly. “You’ll never know how glad.”

Claire
    W HERE, GANGIE, WHERE?”
    Little Edgar was leaping ecstatically, trying to spot the whales that had been sighted off the starboard side of the Sagafjord. His sister, Anna, stood calmly at his side, somewhat less impressed.
    Frannie knelt beside the four-year-olds and pointed. “See? Over there … that big spout of water. That’s the whale. He’s blowing all that water through a hole in his back.”
    Edgar frowned. “Did somebody shoot him?”
    “No, darling … why would …? Oh, the hole. Well, you see … all whales have a hole like that, so they can … so they can blow water through it.” Frannie moaned softly and cast an imploring glance at Claire McAllister. “Get me out of this.”
    Claire chuckled throatily. “Why does a whale have a hole? That’s a dangerous question to ask me, honey!”
    Frannie giggled. Claire was an ex-chorine of indeterminate age, with a chronic weakness for double entendres and racy jokes. Her very-red lips and very-black hair were oddly suggestive of Ann Miller, though Claire had long ago bid farewell to show business. She was currently married to the third richest man in Oklahoma.
    “All right,” smiled Frannie. “Forget I asked.”
    Claire smiled expansively at the twins. “They’re just cute as a button, Frannie. What’s that name they call you?”
    Frannie reddened. “Uh … Gangie. It’s just a pet name. Frannie’s a little too personal … and Mrs. Halcyon seemed too … formal.”
    “Gangie,” repeated Claire, her dark eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness. “Sounds an awful lot like Grannie to me.”
    Frannie fidgeted with a wisp of hair over her ear. “Well … I … uh … wouldn’t mind that one bit. They seem like my own grandchildren.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Claire. The twinkle remained.
    “Well,” exclaimed Frannie, turning to confront the twins again, “we’ve seen the whales, so it’s about