Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

if she were a corpse in a morgue and he were the next of kin. Then he rose and went to the window-facing the bay. After a long silence, he said: “I’m pretty thick, I guess. I’ve been misreading this all along.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice was calmer now.
He shrugged. “I thought you wanted a baby. I really believed that.”
“I do, Brian. I do. I just can’t take it when … when you make it sound like that’s the sole purpose of our sex, that’s all. Hey, look … I came home from a horrendous day and you were sitting here like some spoiled kid with one more job for me to do. I’m sorry, but one miracle is all I can manage in a day.”
“Miracle?” He frowned at her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing. I just meant … I want you to want me for me, O.K.? I don’t like being jealous of a kid who’s not even here yet.” She smiled faintly as a gesture of reconciliation. “That’s all, Brian, just for tonight, can’t there be just two of us in bed?”
“Sure,” he answered softly. “You bet.”
“Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He nodded. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”
“I know,” she replied. “I know.”
They smoked a joint later and made love on the floor of the TV room. Perhaps because of the tension of her day, Mary Ann’s orgasm eluded her until she took flight from the familiar and imagined it was Simon’s body that was grinding her fanny against the industrial carpeting.
“You see?” said Brian, grinning at her afterwards. “Just the two of us.”

Death at the Door
A FTER SOME INVESTIGATION, MICHAEL LEARNED that London’s most fashionable dyke nightclub was a place in Mayfair called Heds. Tucked away discreetly in a basement, it was marked only by an understated brass plaque at the entrance: GENTLEMEN WILL KINDLY DISCHARGE THEIR WEAPONS BEFORE ENTERING THIS ESTABLISHMENT . The doorperson was a puce-lipped brunette with a Louise Brooks haircut.
“Have you lads been here before?”
Michael turned to Wilfred. “Have we?”
“Once,” said the kid. “Don’t worry. We’re bent.”
The doorperson smiled at him. “Just checking. Have a good time, now.”
The room was smoky and low-ceilinged, with a row of couches along one wall. Four or five lesbian couples were slow-dancing to Anne Murray beneath a jerky mirror ball. Most of the women were stylishly dressed, and some of them were astonishingly beautiful. Michael sat down on one of the couches and motioned Wilfred to join him.
“This is really a long shot,” he said.
The kid shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”
“It’s not realty her kind of place. It’s so … unpolitical.”
“Yeah.”
“Of course … her looks have changed completely. I guess the rest could’ve changed too.”
“Have you thought about ringing her?”
“That address, you mean? I tried that three days ago. There isn’t a listing for Roughton in Easley-on-Hill.”
A cocktail waitress stopped at the sofa. “Something to drink, gentlemen?”
“No, thanks,” said Michael. He glanced at Wilfred. “How about you?”
The kid declined.
Michael looked back at the waitress. “You wouldn’t happen to know an American woman named Mona Ramsey?”
The waitress thought for a moment, then shook her head.
“She’s in her late thirties. Wears her hair like Princess Diana. Swears like a sailor.”
“Sorry, love. I don’t catch the names usually.” She smiled apologetically and moved to the next customer.
“How much longer have you got?” asked Wilfred.
“Till what?”
“Till you go.”
“Oh.” He thought for a moment. “Six days, I guess. I leave on Tuesday.”
Wilfred nodded.
“Why?” asked Michael.
“Well … we could go there.”
“Where?”
“You know … Easley-on-Hill.”
“Oh.”
“We could go there for Easter, couldn’t we? It’s lovely country, Gloucestershire. We could take the train. I’ve some money put away. And … if we don’t find her. there’s no harm done, is there?”
The kid’s earnestness frightened him. “Actually,” he replied gently, “I think I may do that.”
Wilfred blinked at him. “Without me, you mean?”
Michael hesitated.
“I understand,” said Wilfred. “Forget I said that.”
“It isn’t you,” said Michael.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. I don’t want you to think … that I don’t like you.”
“I know you like me.”
“I just think … it would be easier with … just me. I mean, if I come crashing in on her scene,