Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

you in chains by now?”
The lieutenant seemed little disconcerted by his direct approach. “I think you’ve been reading too much Melville. The modern navy isn’t nearly as stringent as you might think.”
“Yeah, but … you jumped ship, didn’t you?”
“More or less.”
“Well, isn’t that a court-martial offense?”
“Sometimes,” answered the lieutenant. “It can vary, though, depending on the individual.”
Brian looked him squarely in the eye. “You mean you have friends in high places?”
The lieutenant seemed tremendously uncomfortable. He was about to say something, when Mary Ann bounded into the room, letting him off the hook. “Well,” she said, “I’m afraid she’s not home yet.” She glanced apologetically at their guest. “This is so disappointing. It’s such wonderful stuff. She named it after the Queen Mother and everything.”
The lieutenant looked puzzled.
Brian translated for him: “Our landlady names her pot plants after women she admires.”
“I see.”
Mary Ann turned to Brian. “I checked Michael’s too. He isn’t back from Death Valley yet. I could look for roaches in the ashtray in the car.”
“Too late,” he answered. “I did that last week. We’ll just have to face your chicken straight.”
She gave him an evil eye before addressing the lieutenant. “I can get you some wine.”
“Lovely,” he said.
Mary Ann disappeared into the kitchen. The lieutenant sidled to the window, turning his back to Brian. “That beacon must be Alcatraz,” he said. He obviously had no intention of picking up where they’d left off.
“That’s it,” said Brian.
“They don’t still keep prisoners, do they?”
“No. It’s empty. Has been for a long time.”
“I see. Lovely view from here.”
“Yeah,” said Brian. “It’s not bad.”
Mary Ann sailed into the room with the wine stuff on a tray. “Have you ever had Eye of the Swan?”
The lieutenant turned around. “No … I can’t say that I have.”
“It’s a white Pinot noir. Very dry.” She set the tray down on the coffee table, then knelt in front of it and began pouring.
“Glasses and everything,” murmured Brian.
She handed him a glass, ignoring the remark.
“So,” she chirped, giving the lieutenant a glass. “You’ve been having trouble finding a place to stay?”
“Not exactly,” he replied. “I took a room at the Holiday Inn on Fisherman’s Wharf.”
Brian and Mary Ann groaned in unison.
The lieutenant chuckled. “Yes, it is, rather. I was hoping for something with a little more character. I don’t fancy breaking that little paper seal every day.”
“What seal?” asked Mary Ann.
“You know … on the toilet.”
“Oh.” She laughed a little nervously, Brian thought. “How long do you plan on staying?”
“Oh … about a month, I plan on returning to London several days after Easter.”
Mary Ann frowned. “That makes renting a little difficult.”
“Actually,” said the lieutenant, “I was rather hoping for a swap.”
“A swap?”
“My place in London in exchange for someone’s place here. Could such a thing be arranged?”
Mary Ann was already deep in thought.
“It’s a tatty little flat,” added the lieutenant, “but it’s in a colorful neighborhood and … well, it might be an adventure for someone.”
Mary Ann looked at Brian with dancing eyes. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

Settling Up
N ED’S RED PICKUP AND ITS SEVEN WEARY PASSENGERS had survived sandstorms in Furnace Creek, snowstorms in South Lake Tahoe. and a blowout near Drytown by the time their ten-hour trans-California odyssey had ended.
Michael climbed from the truckbed, hoisted his bedroll to his shoulder, and trudged up the stairway to Barbary Lane, stopping long enough on the landing to wave goodbye to his campmates.
Ned answered with a toot of the horn. “Go to bed,” he yelled. Like a master mechanic who could diagnose an engine problem simply by listening, he knew that Michael’s emotional resistance was down.
Michael gave him a thumbs-up sign and followed the eucalyptus trees into the dark city canyon of the lane. He whistled during this last leg of the journey, warding off demons he was still unable to name.
Back at the apartment, he dumped his gear on the bedroom floor and drew a hot bath. He soaked for half an hour, already feeling the loss of his brothers, the dissolution of that safe little enclave they had shared in the desert.
After the bath, he put on the blue flannel