Warm and Willing - Lawrence Block [27]
“Does it last long?”
“Homosexuality?” Bobby grinned. “It lasts forever, my sweet.”
“I mean—”
“I know what you mean, goofy. Here’s Meg. Meg, you didn’t bring me a drink.”
Megan sat next to Rhoda, “You don’t need one,” she said. “Jan’s playing with her phallic symbols again. Did you notice?”
“We were talking about them. And about Jan. Homosexuality As A Religious Phenomenon. I might write a paper on that sweet theme.”
“For The Ladder?”
“For the john. Poems to be read in the can. I think there was a book like that, come to think. Some phony nonsense. Dykery As The Highest Expression Of The Inner Self. Sound good?”
“It might to Jan.” Megan sipped her drink. “Jan’s right,” she said. “There are worse poses.”
“Name one.”
“I Am A Lost Lesbian And A Thing To Be Pitied. How’s that?”
“It’ll do,” Bobby said. “Except that we all use it now and then. Even you and I, sweet.”
“That’s what’s so tragic about it.”
Jan Pomeroy was walking around the room turning off lamps. Her eyes, Rhoda noticed, were slightly glazed. And she almost fell over at one point. “I think she’s drunk,” she said.
“Brilliantly put, Rho. Jan’s always stoned at her own sets. Drinking develops her appearance of intense sincerity. The funny thing is that she used to be ordinary enough. She never got over that thing she had with the actress.”
“Actress?”
“Moira Maine. Whose name, before Hollywood played with it, was something far less euphonious. I think was—”
“Moira Maine?”
“Uh-huh, I think it was—”
“But she isn’t gay!”
Megan and Bobby both laughed. “Oh, Rho honey, the hell she isn’t. You didn’t know?”
“But she’s married—”
“To one of the screamingest queens in Hollywood, sweets. Too many people were whispering about both of them, so they’re married. I’ve a hunch they never consummated that marriage, and that it wasn’t exactly made in heaven. Meg, you should have brought me another drink.”
“Get it yourself.”
I don’t really need it. Miss Maine was in hot water for awhile. You must have heard something, Rho.”
She shook her head.
“A big blackmail thing, the way I heard it. Some West Coast call girl slept with La Maine and let a friend of hers take pictures, and first they held her up and then they sold the pictures to one of the scandal mags. It got hushed up, I guess, but that’s the way it was.”
Bobby stood up. “I see an old friend,” she explained. “Catch you people after the Sapphic odes are over and done with.”
Rhoda sipped her drink. Megan was beside her, telling her a story that she couldn’t quite keep up with. Across the room, a blonde with dark roots had her arm around a much younger girl. The younger girl giggled and the blonde leaned over and kissed her. The younger girl put her arms around the blonde and the two got lost in the embrace.
Rhoda looked away from them. “I don’t like that,” she said.
“Bleached hair?”
“That either.”
Megan gave her hand a squeeze. “I don’t like it myself,” she said. “They might as well make love in Macy’s window. Some girls are funny that way. Exhibitionistic. Just because they’re among other gay girls they think they can do anything without offending good taste. I don’t mind dancing at a gay party. There will be dancing later, you know. Will you dance with me, kitten?”
“And with no one else.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. You’ll dance with whoever asks you, pet. It’s just part of the ritual, and quite sexless. But petting in public that way, that I don’t go for.” Megan shrugged. “The really militant homosexuals are all excited about campaigning for equal rights. I think some of them would like to picket lunch counters in Atlanta that don’t employ gays. But you’d think they’d realize that the same obligations as far as taste is concerned as straight people have. Sex is such a preoccupation with all of us. It’s silly, I suppose.”
The room was dark now. On the mahogany pedestal, the two candles burned. Jan Pomeroy stood behind the pedestal, her