Tales of the City 06 - Sure of You

box, to reveal a velvet bag with a drawstring.
    “I wouldn’t take it out,” said Bill.
    “Right.”
    “The balls are squeezable.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “Nope.”
    “What’s the world coming to?” said Michael.
    Bill chuckled, but it was a dry, professional chuckle. “Got an address for him?”
    “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
    “Think you could phone it in later? For my report.”
    “Sure,” said Michael. “No problem.”
    “So.” The cop looked up from the clipboard. “How have you been?”
    “Pretty good. I’m alive.”
    “Yeah. Really. Are you still…on your own?”
    “No. I’ve got a lover now.”
    “Hey. All right. Where’d you meet him?”
    “Alcatraz, actually.”
    This got a smile. “A tourist or a ranger?”
    “Tourist.”
    “And then he moved here?”
    Michael nodded. “About three years ago.”
    “Well, good for you.” If Bill was racked with heartbreak, his police training had taught him to conceal it pretty well.
    “How ’bout you?” asked Michael.
    “Same as always. Bachelor Number Three.”
    “Well…it suits you.”
    “You got that right. What would I do with a lover at Pigs in Paradise?”
    Michael drew a blank.
    “You know, the big party. Gay and lesbian law enforcement. I took you to one, didn’t I?”
    “Nope.”
    “You sure?”
    Michael rolled his eyes. “I would’ve remembered, Bill. Trust me.”
    “Come to the next one, then. Bring your lover.”
    “Thanks. Maybe we’ll do that.”
    “I’ll go get him,” said Bill.
    He gave Michael’s shoulder a brotherly shake and ducked into the back room.

    Joe Webster emerged looking gaunt and exhausted, his rangy frame slumped into a sullen pterodactyl stance. When his eyes met Michael’s they registered no recognition whatsoever.
    “Here’s your friend,” the officer told him.
    “He’s not my friend.”
    “This is Michael Tolliver. You said to call Michael Tolliver, didn’t you?”
    No answer.
    Bill smiled indulgently and looked at Michael. “Is this the guy?”
    Michael nodded. “He’s right, though. We’re not really friends.”
    Bill shrugged. “Well…”
    “The bastards wouldn’t give me a room,” said Joe, scowling. “And they’re outa fuckin’ towels.”
    “Did you reach his Shanti buddy?”
    “Not yet.” Michael turned to Joe and tried to appear as benign as possible. “Why don’t we go see Ramon? O.K.?”
    “Where is he? Where’s Ramon?”
    “He’s at home. Or he will be soon.” He hoped to hell this was so. “I’m gonna take you there, O.K.?”
    “No fuckin’ towels. What the fuck do they think I’m doing? I paid, didn’t I? Didn’t I pay?”
    “What’s he talking about?” asked Michael.
    “Got me. What’re you gonna do if you can’t find his buddy?”
    “I dunno.”
    “You have a work number for him?”
    “He works out of his house. He must be out shopping or something.”
    “No fuckin’ towels, no fuckin’ rooms…”
    “Maybe you should call again,” said Bill.

    This time Ramon was home. Michael told him what had happened and offered to drive Joe to Ramon’s house in Bernal Heights. Ramon thanked him profusely and was waiting on his front steps when they arrived half an hour later.
    “Sorry about this.”
    “No problem,” said Michael.
    Joe unfolded his lanky frame from the VW and headed up the steps without a word. “Hey,” Ramon called after him. “Say thank you to Michael.”
    Joe stopped and looked down at them. “Why?”
    “Because I asked you to.”
    Michael felt uncomfortable. “That’s O.K. Really.”
    Ramon lowered his voice. “He’s been losing it a lot lately. Last week he set fire to a trash can at a Louise Hay seminar.”
    “I see.”
    “He must really like you, or he wouldn’t have given them your name.”
    “It doesn’t matter,” said Michael.
    “He gets these periods when he’s just a different person.”
    Michael nodded. “He kept talking about towels at the police station.”
    “He does that at the hospital too. The post office, for that matter. He thinks he’s at the baths.” Ramon shrugged. “It must be the little window or something.”
    Joe was watching them from the top of the steps. “You know,” he yelled down, “you don’t get points for this. Nobody’s keeping score in heaven. If you get it, you get it.”
    Michael ignored him as he handed Ramon the bag with the rubber cock. “I’d keep an eye on this.”
    Ramon winked at him. “I owe you one.”
    “That’s O.K.”
    “ Did