Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

“we do leather rather poorly here.”
Michael looked up. “I’ve been to the Coleherne.”
“Gawd!”
“It’s not that bad,” said Michael, trying to be gallant.
“Of course it is! All those … Uriah Heeps lurking about!”
“Well …”
“Hardly a match for your great San Francisco brutes in their shiny black pickup trucks.”
His romanticism amused Michael. “They use them to move ficus trees, you know.”
Lord Roughton blinked at him, confused. “Sorry? Oh … you’re teasing me again. Go right ahead. I’ve made a very serious study of the whole matter. I know what I’m talking about.”
Michael smiled at him. “I’m with you, believe me.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. I’m just … enjoying your innocence.”
Lord Roughton drew back. “I show you my tit rings and you call me innocent. What am I to make of that, sir?”
He laughed. “We’re all innocent about something.”
“Quite right.” His lordship arched an eyebrow. “What are you innocent about?”
Michael thought for a moment. “Country houses, mostly.”
His host laughed genially. “Mona’s shown you around, I trust?”
“Well, I took the regular tour.”
“Oh, dear. We shall have to undo that immediately. Where’s your chum? Would he like to join us?”
Where was Wilfred, anyway? “I’m sure he would, but … look, can I be perfectly frank with you?”
Lord Roughton raised his forefinger. “You can if you call me by name. It’s Teddy.”
“Fine,” Michael smiled. “Teddy.”
“Good. Spill your guts.”
“Well … I have no idea what Mona’s doing here.”
Teddy frowned, then chortled. “You’re joking, surely?”
“No. She hasn’t told me yet.”
His mouth made goldfish motions. “Why, that silly girl … the silly, silly girl.”

Unholy Mess
W HEN THE ALARM WENT OFF AT 4 A.M., MARY ANN woke to find herself pinned under Simon’s left arm. She slipped free as gently as possible and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes while Christopher Isherwood watched.
“Where arc you going?” whispered Simon. He startled her. “Upstairs. To change.”
“Is it Easter already?”
“ ‘Fraid so.” Her voice was croaky and sleep-fuzzed. He raised himself on his elbows, “Then … I’ll meet you down in the garden.”
She squeezed his knee. “You don’t have to go.”
He paused. “I thought you wanted company.”
“Well … I said that, but …”
“You wanted this.”
It was a joke, of course, but it made her uneasy.
“Hey,” she whispered, conscious of Mrs. Madrigal’s presence in the building. “If you want to march up Calvary with a zombie, the zombie would be glad to have you along.” She reached over and gave his cock a friendly yank. “O.K.?”
“What’s the attire?”
“Casual.” She stood up. “Give me half an hour and meet me in the courtyard. Crepe soles might be a good idea. If there’s any of that dope left, you could roll us a joint. O.K.?”
“O.K. But how are we getting there?”
“My crew is picking us up.” Of course. Your crew.”
“Anything else?”
“Yes. Where are my pants?”
“In the closet. You hung them up. Remember?”
“Right.” He climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. Was he bent out of shape about something? Even his perfect little butt looked tense.
He kept quiet most of the way to Mount Davidson, so she spent the time talking shop with her cameraman. They parked the truck on Myra Way—as close as they could get to the concrete cross—and finished the journey on foot, climbing a slippery pathway through a eucalyptus grove until they reached the summit.
Several dozen people were already gathered at the base of the mammoth monument. In the pearly predawn light they looked as pale and gray-green as the young eucalyptus leaves. Mary Ann turned and admired the extravagant sweep of the city, the telltale red stain that had begun to seep into the eastern sky above Mount Diablo.
She touched Simon’s arm. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
“Gorgeous,” he repeated, with little conviction.
She studied his expressionless face. “You’re as grumpy as I am in the morning.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t …” He cut himself off.
“You wouldn’t what?”
“I wouldn’t …”
“Darling … you naughty thing. I told you we don’t need you.” Father Paddy had materialized, as usual, out of thin air.
“Oh … hi,” she blurted back.
“You’re so damn noble, Mary Ann!” The cleric grabbed Simon’s arm. “I have told this dear, sweet girl for weeks now