Tales of the City 08 - Mary Ann in Autumn

said the blond kid.
    “Yeah. He is.”
    The kid extended his hand. “I’m Jonah, by the way.”
    “Jake.”
    “My girlfriend would love this. She’s big on clowns.”
    “Oh yeah? You should bring her here some time.”
    Jonah shook his head. “She’s back at home. I’m just here for … work.”
    “Missin’ her, huh?”
    “Oh … man. A month is too long.”
    Jake could see the raw truth of this in Jonah’s face.
    “It’s the best thing in the world,” Jonah added. “Loving a girl like that.”
    There was nothing more to be said about that—especially on Jake’s part—so he underscored the sentiment with a respectful silence.
    Jonah, meanwhile, seemed to have embarrassed himself. He tossed his sandwich wrapper in a can and looked out at the bay for an easy way to change the subject.
    “So what’s that island out there?”
    Jake grinned. “That’s no island, dude. That’s a motorized vessel.”
    “C’mon. It’s got palm trees and a beach …”
    “I wouldn’t lie to you, man.”
    “ … and a lighthouse! I’m a country boy but—”
    “No, dude, I swear. This wack boat builder built it back in the seventies. He’s parked the thing all over the bay. They call it Forbes Island.”
    Jonah snorted. “Because it’s an island!”
    “No, because Mr. Forbes built it. Or Forbes Somebody, I forget. They run it as a restaurant now. You eat under the water and look out through portholes at the fish.”
    “You’ve seen this yourself?”
    Jake shrugged. “I YouTubed it.”
    “How do you get out there? Or does it come to you?”
    “There’s a shuttle. It leaves from the dock down here.”
    “We gotta do this!”
    “Dude, we just ate.”
    “I mean some other day. If you want to, I mean. I’ve got another week here. I could use somebody to hang with.”
    Even before his mention of the girlfriend, Jake had decided that Jonah wasn’t gay. There was something in his eyes—or maybe a lack of something—that made him seem unavailable. For Jake this was as much a relief as a disappointment, since the prospect of sex always brought with it the need for full disclosure. Besides, there was something more valuable to be gained here: a brotherly bond with another guy that took for granted their common masculinity. He had longed for such a friendship when he was a teenager in Tulsa, but the visuals had made it impossible. Now, he had a shot at it.
    “What the hell,” he said, clapping Jonah on the shoulder. “You’re on.”
    A NNA WAS SITTING UP WITH a book when Jake returned. She was wearing her green satin kimono—the one with the coffee stains that Jake had tried like hell to get out. The lamplight made a little halo around her head. He wondered how long she’d been there.
    “How was dinner?” he asked.
    She looked up from her book. “Oh … my dear. It was lovely. Marguerite made … what do you call them?”
    Jake shrugged. She was always asking shit like this.
    “Oh, you know … those little potato dumplings …”
    “Au gratin.”
    “No … they’re Italian. You know.”
    “Nucky? I can’t pronounce it—”
    “Yes, yes … close enough.” Anna smiled. “That’s what they were.” She took off her purple reading glasses and folded them up, tucking them efficiently into the sleeve of her kimono. “How was your evening, dear?”
    Jake surprised himself by coming clean: “I met somebody.”
    “Ah.” It was amazing how much she could pack into that sound.
    “It’s not like that.”
    “I see.” She switched off the lamp to relieve her eyes. “Then what is it like?”
    “Who the hell knows? It’s no big whoop. We’re just gonna eat out on Forbes Island.”
    “Should I know where that is?”
    “It’s this … floating island thing next to Pier 39.”
    She nodded slowly, wordlessly, at the mention of the dreaded tourist trap. “Well,” she said finally. “That side of town can be lovely.”

Chapter 8
Signing
    S hawna was dawdling over a plate of fried artichoke hearts at Pier 23 Café, a funky waterfront roadhouse she had loved ever since her dad took her there for her thirteenth birthday. These days, it was a handy waiting room when Otto had a gig at Pier 39. She could avoid the tourists, have a beer or two, and be pleasantly pissed by the time her inamorato was done with his clowning. Otto enjoyed the walk from Pier 39—the release it offered from all those people—and Shawna liked how she felt (not to mention how she looked) amid the film-noir