Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others
titties. It’s so depressing. Where the hell is my hat? Some of those fellows out there could use a brassiere, Booter. Ever notice that?”
Booter found Jimmy’s hat, a model he’d worn since the fifties, when he’d seen a similar one on Rex Harrison in My Fair Lady. He handed it to Jimmy and said: “You look as young as I’ve seen you in a long time.”
In point of fact, Jimmy’s bypass had whipped at least thirty pounds off him, imparting a sort of crazed boyishness to his face. “What is it that happens, Booter? Why do we all start looking like old women? What the hell is it? Revenge?”
Booter preceded him out of the tepee, merging with the tide of returning Jinks-goers. A screech owl heralded their exit. Jimmy caught up with him and said: “My wife’s Aunt Louise had a full mustache by the time she was seventy.” Booter kept walking.
“There’s a message there,” said Jimmy, sighing again. “There’s a terrible message there.”
Midnight Quartet
T HE ROAD ABOVE MONTE RIO WAS RUTTED AND UNLIT, DEADLY AFTER DARK.
“Are you sure this is right?” asked Thack. He thinks I’m a flake, thought Michael. Useless with a hammer and useless in a car. “Well,” he said evenly, “she said it was the very last house on the road.”
“Yeah,” said Brian, “but is this the road?”
“That’s what I was wondering,” said Thack. Now they were ganging up on him. “What other road could it be?” he asked.
“That last turnoff,” said Thack.
“Yeah,” said Brian.
“But it was heading down, wasn’t it?”
“Hard to tell,” said Thack.
There was nothing to be gained by capitulating now. “I’m gonna keep on,” said Michael.
“Whose place is this, anyway?” This was Brian again.
“I dunno,” said Michael. “Some friend of hers rented it.”
“Male, female, what?”
Michael chuckled. “Male, probably. Didn’t you read her book?”
“I looked at the pictures,” said Brian.
“I can’t believe you didn’t recognize her.”
“She looked different.”
“I wouldn’t have recognized her,” said Thack.
“She’s a big star,” said Michael, irked with them both for not understanding the honor they’d been afforded. “And she’s so accessible.”
“I noticed,” said Brian dryly.
Thack laughed.
“You’re both pigs,” said Michael.
The crumbling road became a driveway, which led them up the steepest incline yet.
“This is crazy,” said Thack.
“Yeah,” said Michael, “but I think this is it.” Ahead of them, caught in the headlights, lay an enormous moss-flecked chalet.
“Jesus,” said Thack. “It looks like a Maybeck.”
“A what?” asked Brian.
“He was an architect,” Michael explained. “Early twentieth century.”
“You know his work?” asked Thack.
“Very well,” said Michael. Take that, Mr. Butch-with-a-Hammer.
He parked next to a white sedan behind the chalet. There were broad stairs leading to the second floor, where the living quarters seemed to be. The ground floor was shingled-over storage space.
The three of them climbed the stairs as a phalanx. Halfway up, Brian turned to Michael and said: “Let’s don’t make this long, O.K.?”
“O.K.,” Michael whispered.
As they reached the top, Wren flung open the door. “Hi, boys.”
“Hi,” said Michael.
“Your timing is perfect,” she said.
“Really?”
“Really. I’m ready to party.” She sailed ahead of them like a galleon, listing here and there to turn on a lamp. When they reached a big stone fireplace, she stopped and stuck her hand out to Thack. “I’m Wren,” she said.
“Thack Sweeney.”
“You’re quite a swimmer,” she said.
“Thanks.”
“Are you another San Franciscan?”
“No,” said Thack. “Charlestonian. South Carolina.”
“Ah.” She turned to Brian. “And we’ve met.”
“Yeah,” said Brian sheepishly. “I guess so. I’m Brian Hawkins.”
“Charmed.” She dipped coyly, smiling at Brian. Michael thought she looked fabulous tonight in her pale pink sweatsuit. A satin ribbon of the same shade secured her sleek dark hair behind her head.
“Michael, my love, how ‘bout a hand?”
“Sure,” he said instantly, seduced by the way she’d made them sound like old friends. He followed her into a dimly lit kitchen with an industrial sink, a sloping wooden floor, and a pair of cobwebby antlers over the stove. She gathered glasses and dumped ice into a bucket. “Glad you could come,” she said.
“Glad to be
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