Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

DeDe was pulling her the rest of the way when Rose emerged from the tent and peered up at the two invaders.
    She locked eyes with DeDe for an excruciating eternity, then went back into the tent. Mabel shrugged and flopped her arm across DeDe for support. “You think she was alone?” she asked.
    “I’m done for,” said DeDe as they made their way back to the Winnebago.
    “No you’re not.”
    “I am. You don’t know. She hated me already. Now …”
    “I’ll protect you,” said Mabel.
    “Right,” said DeDe.
    They passed a group of tents near the edge of chem-free. She distinctly heard someone say the words “Junior League,” followed by a chorus of harsh laughter.
    They knew, they all knew. Her debacle at the gate had entered into the lore.
    It was time she got out of there.

Making Up
    J IMMY LOOKED MOODY AND DRUNK WHEN BOOTER RETURNED to his tepee. “How was the Jinks?” Booter asked.
    No answer. “Bad, huh?”
    “I didn’t go.”
    “Why not?”
    Jimmy shrugged. “How was the Vice-President?”
    “Fine,” said Booter. “Optimistic.”
    “About what?”
    Booter was thrown for a moment. “Well … economic indicators … the Contras. That sort of thing.”
    “Oh.” Jimmy nodded, then looked down at the empty plastic glass in his hand.
    “You should’ve gone to the Jinks,” said Booter.
    “Why?”
    “I dunno. To give me a report. I was kinda curious.” Jimmy grunted.
    “Sounded like your kinda show.” Why was Jimmy acting this way? Because Booter hadn’t gone to the Jinks? Because Booter hadn’t invited Jimmy to meet the Vice-President? Because Jimmy turned maudlin after three drinks?
    Applause came clattering through the woods like lumber spilling from a truck.
    “There’s the end of it,” said Booter.
    “Of what?” asked Jimmy.
    “The Jinks.”
    “Oh.”
    Booter hated it when he got like this. “I thought I’d wander down to Sons of Toil … have a drink with Lester and Artie.”
    Another grunt.
    “You wanna come along?”
    “You go ahead,” said Jimmy.
    Booter frowned and sat down on the cot next to him. “Jimmy, ol’ man …”
    Jimmy rose, fumbling in his shirt pocket for a cigaret.
    “You don’t need that,” said Booter.
    “Hell with it.” Jimmy lit the cigaret and tossed the match out into the night. He took a drag, then expelled smoke slowly, forming a contemplative wreath over his head.
    “I wasn’t up at Mandalay,” Booter said at last.
    “Oh, yeah?” said Jimmy. “Where’d you meet him?”
    “I didn’t.”
    “You didn’t have drinks with George Bush?”
    “No.”
    “Then what the hell …?”
    “I was with a woman, Jimmy.”
    Jimmy cocked his head slightly, like an old retriever inquiring about the prey.
    “I rented a house in Monte Rio,” Booter added. “She’s been … staying there for a few days.”
    Jimmy looked dumbstruck for a moment, then started to laugh. As usual, his laughter deteriorated into a coughing jag. Booter clapped him on the back several times.
    When Jimmy had collected himself, he said: “Why didn’t you tell me it was just a woman?”
    Booter shrugged. “You’re a thespian. You’ve got a big mouth.”
    “Then … you didn’t see Bush at all?”
    “No.”
    Jimmy smiled and shook his head in amazement. No, in relief. “A woman,” he said.
    Booter gave Jimmy’s leg a shake. “C’mon. Let’s go see Lester and Artie.”
    “Is she … uh … long-term?”
    “No,” said Booter.
    “You buy one of those whores down at the Northwood Lodge?”
    “No.”
    Jimmy’s eyes grew cloudy with reminiscence. “I bought a whore once. Nothing spectacular. Just this … nice little gal from Boulder during the war. Her name was … damn, what was it?” He sucked in smoke, then expelled it slowly. “Funny name … not like a whore’s name at all.”
    “Let’s go,” said Booter.
    “I always figured there’d be more just like her … or better. I had time for everything. Hell, five or six of everything.” He was mired in memory again.
    Booter found Jimmy’s jacket and handed it to him. “We gotta hurry,” he said. “Lester wants to play his saw for us.”
    Jimmy struggled into his jacket. “She have big titties, your girlfriend?”
    Booter chuckled. “You ol’ whorehound.”
    “I’m not as old as you,” said Jimmy. “God damn, where do you get the energy?”
    Booter shrugged and smiled.
    “The only big titties I ever see are around this place.” Jimmy sighed elaborately. “Old men and their big