Tales of the City 05 - Significant Others

time.”
    DeDe backed off a little. “It’s not that way when you’ve been together for a while. Not for anybody.”
    “I dunno.”
    “Well, I do.”
    Polly gave her a crooked grin. “Whatever you say, Deirdre.”
    This rattled her. “Where did you hear my real name?”
    “Anna told me yesterday. When you were swimming.”
    For some reason, this struck her as vaguely conspiratorial. “She just … volunteered that?”
    “No. I asked her. I wanna know all there is to know about you.”
    DeDe fidgeted with the zipper on the sleeping bag.
    “I’m really gonna miss you,” said Polly.
    “And I you.” She hated people who said that, but it just tumbled out in her embarrassment.
    “Will you come visit me at the nursery sometime?”
    “Well … D’or does most of the gardening.”
    “I can call you, can’t I?”
    DeDe avoided her gaze.
    “O.K., forget it.”
    “Polly …” DeDe took her hand. “Friends are one thing. What you want—”
    “You don’t know what I want.”
    DeDe chose her words carefully. “Maybe not, but … c’mon, I’m a stuffy old married lady.”
    “I don’t care,” said Polly.
    DeDe drew back. “You’re supposed to say I’m not stuffy, I’m not old.”
    “I like ‘em old,” said Polly.
    DeDe groaned and lobbed a sneaker at her. Polly deflected it, grinning impishly. “O.K.,” she said. “I’m outa here.”
    “No,” said DeDe. “Stay and play Pictionary.”
    “We need three people for that.”
    “Well … practice with me, then.”
    “Your lover might come back,” said Polly.
    “So what?” said DeDe. D’or could certainly use a dose of her own medicine. Besides, Rose was on the rampage, and DeDe hated the thought of being alone.

Divine Intervention
    F ATHER PADDY LED THEM INTO THE WILDERNESS, CHATTERING INCESSANTLY.
    “By the way,” he said as he charged up a winding trail. “I’m aware the dress is a bit much.”
    He meant his cassock, obviously, but Michael refrained from comment.
    “I wore it for poor Jimmy’s memorial service, and I haven’t had a moment to change. Please don’t think me ostentatious.”
    “No,” said Michael.
    “Usually,” added the cleric, addressing Thack, “I’m content with a simple turtleneck and crucifix—especially at the Grove—but the deceased was a theatrical sort, so I felt a little pageantry was in order.”
    Michael detected a puckish gleam in the priest’s eye. He was testing Thack, apparently, trying out his time-proven shtick on an unwitting neophyte.
    “How did he die?” asked Thack.
    “Oh, you know … the ticker. Happens fairly often here.”
    “I can imagine,” said Thack, dryer than usual for Michael’s benefit.
    Now well above the floor of the gorge, Father Paddy turned off the main trail and led them across an elevated boardwalk spanning a dry creekbed. At the end of it lay a tented pavilion, vibrant with lights and laughter. Three or four similar camps were visible beneath them, clinging to the side of the hill.
    “Lost Angels,” said the priest, gesturing toward the pavilion. “Booter’s bound to be here.”
    “Why do they call it that?” asked Thack.
    “Well …” Father Paddy leaned closer and spoke from behind his palm, as if imparting a shameful secret. “Some of them are from Los Angeles.” He approached a fortyish man near the end of the boardwalk. “Evening, Ollie.”
    “Evening, padre.”
    “Haven’t seen Booter, have you?”
    The man shook his head. “Not since the funeral.”
    Scanning the revelers in the pavilion, the priest said: “I thought perhaps …”
    “Look around,” said the man. “Help yourself to some chow while you’re at it.” He turned to Michael and Thack. “You fellows look like you could use a drink.”
    Michael glanced at Thack.
    “Go ahead,” urged Father Paddy. “Belly up. That’s what it’s there for.”
    “I’ll get ‘em,” said Thack, addressing Michael. “What do you want?”
    Michael pondered. “Uh … gin and tonic.”
    Thack turned to the priest. “Father?”
    “Oh, thanks, no. I only drink on duty.”
    Thack grinned and headed for the bar. When he was gone, Father Paddy pulled Michael aside and said: “He is absolutely adorable.”
    “I know,” said Michael.
    “Are you two … together?”
    “Not really.”
    The priest looked stern. “Don’t be coy, my child.”
    “Well,” said Michael, “it hasn’t been that long. He’s just visiting from South Carolina.”
    “Oh.”
    Uncomfortable, Michael