“Billy Joe and Jess, come here,” Candy called to the boys. They were wearing matching overalls and Lynyrd Skynyrd tee shirts. They had work boots. Nothing glitter or cool about them. The perfect roadies.
“You know what you’re doing?” Chi Chi asked.
“We’re carrying all the crap you’re too cool to carry,” Jacob said, letting his jaw remain slack.
“Close enough. You a guitar tech?”
“Nope.”
“You tune a drum?”
“Nope.”
“You really just carry shit for us?”
“Yep.”
“Cool, I guess. Ariana!”
Candy came rushing over. “You don’t like the Lee brothers?”
“It’s just . . . Na, fuck it, they’re fine. Rock and fucking roll.”
“We’ll be here with a truck tomorrow five p.m. ready to load.”
“A truck, cool,” said the fuzzy drummer. The twig of a bass player was sucking on a Pixy Stix and smiling at the whole fucked up scene.
Terry and Jacob started to leave. Candy said she was staying. “Can I see you outside, Ms. Ariana?” Jacob said, trying to sound subservient.
• • •
“What?” Candy said.
“We’re counting on you to steal the van,” Jacob said.
“That is your purview,” Terry said.
“Tomorrow boys. Tonight I want to be sure our lead singer doesn’t go walkabout.”
“You gonna sleep with him.” Jacob played it off best he could, smooth.
“None of your business. Plan is to keep an eye on him. If we wind up doing the horizontal mamba, then that’s what needs to be done. We clear? Business.”
Trouble was, Jacob saw the way Candy looked at the singer. They’d be making muffins before the night was over. There was nothing Jacob could do about it. Not a damn thing.
“I wish I was in The Wild Bunch.”
“Yeah, Jake, it is so much easier when the girls are all Mexican whores.”
“Fuck you and your white man’s logic.”
“Come, kemosabe, let’s book over to Val’s crib.”
CHAPTER 15
* * *
“We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.” —Kurt Vonnegut, Mother Night
Valentina’s flat took up the entire downstairs of a Victorian up the hill from the Castro. It was high enough to be out of the madness of the Polk scene, but an easy walk if you wanted to hang out in gay leather-boy culture. You could always go to Suckers Lickers for a bottle of wine, scotch or amyl nitrate, which was sold semi-legally as Old Locker Room—named after the fact it smelled like week-old gym socks. One deep inhale and your heart roared like two separate gorillas.
They let themselves in with the key from under the welcome mat.
“Make yourselves at home. Mi casa es su casa.” Valentina was in the bath. She’d left the door open, so they had to avert their eyes if they wanted to speak to her. “Terr-Terr, there’s a bottle of Korbel in the fridge. Would you mind opening it? It’s easy, you grab the cork and slowly rock it back and forth until it spews.”
Terry went in the kitchen, found the Champagne and three flutes. He worked out opening the bottle with limited spewage. Looking up, his gaze fell on the open bathroom door. In the mirror he could see Valentina’s pert breasts. Her skin was coffee and cream. Terry felt an erection start to grow. He shook his head, laughed and walked into the living room. He gave a flute to Jacob. His back was to the bathroom.
“Terr-Terr, come on in here, Momma wants her Champagne.”
Terry walked into the steamy bathroom. It smelled of strawberries. He tried not to look, but wherever he rested his eyes he found he was looking into a mirror. Bubbles covered almost her entire body. One long leg draped off the edge of the tub.
“Any chance I might get that before it goes flat?”
Terry sucked up his courage and walked up to the tub. He handed her the flute. Really looking at her, he let out a low involuntary whistle.
“Oh Terr-Terr, you do find me pretty.”
“You are a stone cold, wet dream fox. But . . .”
“Butt?” She rolled over in the tub, her perfect ass poking up through the bubbles. Terry whistled again. He gulped down the rest of his Champagne.
“Valentina?”
“Yes, Terr-Terr?” She was pouting slightly, very sexy.
“I have never been with a girl as beautiful as you. Never.”
“What a sweet thing to say.”
“It’s true. But I don’t swing the way you do.”
“My penis freaks you. I understand. You’re not gay.”
“Noooo, not gay. Straight.”
“See, baby, so am I. I only want to be with men. After this heist, I’m going to Sweden to finish the surgery. Snip snip, no more johnson. So your manhood is intact. You have been ogling a girl, really, that’s what I am. Now get out of here while I get dressed.”
• • •
Jacob was humming The Faces “Silicone Grown” while he rutted around in the freezer. Behind frozen peas, a carton of coffee Häagen-Dazs and a very cold glass phallus, he found a bottle of Russian vodka. He rounded up three crystal shot glasses. He fired up a joint and took a gulp of vodka. Terry followed suit.
“Did you hear any of that?” Terry motioned to the bathroom.
“Enough to know I don’t know shit. Bowie swings both ways and I don’t judge him. Valentina is as good a woman as I ever met. Trust her with my life. The rest is whatever it is.”
“What are my two stud monkeys talking about?”
“You and how stunning you are,” Jacob said.
Dressed in a diaphanous gown that left the important parts to the imagination, she was nothing short of breathtaking. “I see you found my good vodka.”
“Your casa and all. Here.” Jacob passed her a joint.
She breathed it in, grinning. “That’s good shit, Jake. Color me surprised.”
“I always pack the best boo.”
Terry hadn’t said a word. He looked at his drink then glanced at Valentina, then back at the drink.
“Jake, can you give us a moment?”
“Yeah, I need a pack of cigs. Back in a few.”
Valentina waited for the front door to latch closed.
She sat next to Terry.
He could feel her heat on his skin.
“Sweet Princess Terr-Terr, what am I going to do with you? See, here is the truth, and I’m not really good at truth so if I get it wrong, be gentle. I like you.”
“I like you too, Val.”
“Not like that, sweetie pie. I, well since this last fall I started noticing you. You are a good man. You are smart. You hide it, afraid to take Jake’s place as the smart guy.”
“It’s not like that. Jake is fucking brilliant.”
“So are you. All I’m saying is, it’s more than that rocking sports-hard body of yours. I’m hung up on you. Maybe it’s a crush. Maybe it will pass. But I wanted to say it. Now the hard part. I don’t think you feel the same way. And . . . that has to be OK. I never want you to do anything you feel isn’t right. So drink up and be merry. You dodged a bullet you might not have survived. Yes, lad, I am that good. I have driven grown men mad. I exploded one of the 49ers running back’s heart; he couldn’t take the wild exertion.” Regaining her bravado, she did a vodka shot.
Terry took a joint and wrapped a bill around the cherry.
“Shotgun?” he asked her.
Valentina nodded. Terry put the tube in Valentina’s lips and blew at the other end. Rich oily smoke flooded into her mouth and lungs. Their lips were inches apart. And without either planning it, they found themselves kissing. Terry was as tall and just about as strong as Valentina. They were nicely matched. Terry pulled Valentina onto his lap, kissing her neck, nibbling on her ear. Valentina kissed him full and deeply. Terry got his hand tangled in her hair, and suddenly her long blond hair was sitting cockeyed on her head. She started to
laugh. Taking it off she revealed a tight Afro underneath.
Terry stroked her Afro. “You’re beautiful,” he told her.
Standing up, she led him into her bedroom.
• • •
Jacob was freezing his balls off when he finally decided it was OK to come back. Creeping in, he realized he needn’t be quiet. Terry and Valentina were going at it like wild beasts. Lying down on a sofa, he pulled a pillow over his head. The sixties sexual revolution had spilled into the seventies. Everyone was having sex. All the girls he knew were on the pill. It was consequence-free. Sure, he’d had gonorrhea, but a visit to the free clinic and some penicillin and he was back in the saddle. So all that being said, why was he the only one not getting laid? Was he really holding out for Candy? He kinda thought he was. Not that he would turn down a bunny if she hopped into the room at that moment.
• • •
Valentina fell asleep with her head on Terry’s shoulder.
Terry had a momentary panic attack. What had he done; what kind of freak was he? Would he fuck a chipmunk if it was cute enough? Valentina snuggled in deeper. He smelled her. He looked at her face, at her breasts pressed against him. He let out a long breath and drifted off to sleep.
• • •
Sam was the last to come in. She moved silently, looked into Valentina’s bedroom and smiled. She curled up in a big club chair and was almost asleep when Jacob spoke.
“Did you ball Jinks tonight?”
“I don’t want to have this—”
“Did you? Simple question.”
“Complicated answer. He wanted to go over the exact street location I want for the Pinto gag.”
“And then his dick slipped into you?”
“Yeah, it was just about like that.”
“Just wanted to know.”
“I never lie to you, Jake.”
“I know.” It was the one rule they had. With all the scams, lies and subterfuges in their childhood, they agreed they would never lie to each other. Even lies of omission were out.
“Candy is banging that Cord guy, right?”
“I asked her to not let him out of her sight, so yeah, I guess odds are real good they bumped uglies.”
“Odds are real good?”
“Yes, I’m sure she fucked him. That what you want to hear? Jake, if you really want to love Candy, then you have to see who she is. You have to be OK with it. She hasn’t had one boy at a time since we were in the second grade.”
“Why, why is she like that?”
“If she was a guy you’d just say he was a healthy teenage stud. Right?”
“Fine.”
“Like Bishop said to Angel in The Wild Bunch when he’s watching his girl go with Mapache: ‘Either you learn to live with it, or we’ll leave you here.’ Can you live with it?”
“Guess I have to. I want to be with her.”
“Heartache hotel for us. I’m hung up on a married explosives man. Weird as this sounds, only Terry is backing a winning horse.”
“Not that it’s not fraught with peril. When he sobers up he may step in front of a cable car.”
“Or she might.”
“The course of true love never did run smooth.”
“What’s that from?”
“A Midsummers Night’s Dream.”
“I must have missed that one.”
“The play is a farce, but wrapped inside the comedy Shakespeare was making a cynical statement on love. He believed true love was an illusion. A sprinkling of fairy dust and you could as easily fall in love with a donkey as a man. Maybe lust or chemistry is just fairy dust and he was correct. Dylan Thomas said ‘Though lovers be lost, love shall not; and death shall have no dominion.’ Right, love that lasts beyond the grave. And he was a philanderer who fucked college students behind Caitlin’s back. Swans mate for life. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t.” Sam sparked a Marlboro. “Even high, you really are the brightest bulb in the box.”
“I promised Candy I would finish out the year and go on to Stanford.”
“Pinky promise?”
“Pinky promise.”
“Then there is nothing for it but to go.” She took a long pull on the vodka bottle. “Tomorrow, if it goes sideways, I want you to take Terry and get the hell out of Dodge. Lay low overnight and catch the train home in the morning.”
“But it’s not going to go sideways.”
“No, it’s not. Gonna be slick as snot on a brass door knob.”
CHAPTER 16
* * *
“Are you gonna pull those pistols or whistle Dixie?” —Josey Wales
Terry woke cotton headed. He kept his eyes closed, trying to reconstruct the night. Had he made love to Valentina? If it was wrong, why did thinking about it curl his lips into a smile? Was he awake or still dreaming? He heard the low chatter of women. Or was it the low spark of high-heeled boys?
“Get him up,” a low voice said.
“Already did, twice.”
Was that Valentina?
“His lids are flickering. I think he’s playing marsupial.” A third low voice.
Terry counted to ten then popped his eyes open. Fuck. Three men stood around the bed, two of them white, one black, all sporting long unkempt hillbilly beards.
“What the fuck do you want from me?” His voice sounded braver than he felt.
“Everything,” the black hillbilly said. Leaning down, he tried to kiss Terry.
Terry freaked. Leapt up, darted past the men, hit the first door he found. Pulling it closed, he realized he had just locked himself in the bathroom. No exits.
Laughter filled the hall beyond the door.
“Terr-Terr, open the door, we come in peace.” That was clearly Valentina’s voice.
Slowly he opened the door. The three hillbillies deconstructed themselves in his mind, reconstructing into Valentina, Sam and Candy, all with long beards and trucker caps.
Candy looked Terry up and down. “Nice bod, Terr-Terr.”
“Hands off, bitch, this one’s mine,” Valentina said.
Sam handed him a robe. “Cover it up, Terry, before we have a catfight.”
• • •
On the front stoop, Jacob sat drinking coffee and smoking. Fog drifted past, obscuring the city around him. Terry, dressed in a pink bathrobe with a ruffle at the neck, sat down beside him. Inside the women were taking off their costumes.
“Nice look.”
“Thanks, I try.”
More smoking. More coffee.
“Do you think I’m sick?”
“For going with Valentina?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“No, but it doesn’t really matter what I think.”
“I feel weird. Kinda free, like whatever I was worried about, what people would think about me, it has or hasn’t happened, you know?”
“Not a clue, brother, not one clue. Don’t overthink it.”
“Do I do that?”
“We both do. But this seems like one of those times to let go of the side of the pool and just swim.”
More smoking. More coffee.
“My mother would shit a brick.”
“Terry, does your new, um, girlfriend, have a penis?”
“Why yes, Mom, she does.”
“She would blow a main bearing for sure.”
“I got to shower the drunk funk off. Catch you on the flip side.”
“I’ll be here. Hey, Terry.”
“Yeah?”
“You choose Val, or you decide it was a drunken mistake. We’re cool either way. Got it?”
“Thanks.”
Terry passed Candy as he went into the flat. Candy sat down beside Jacob. Her disguise gone, she was dressed in short shorts and a glittery tube top. A trench coat kept her warm and gave her the appearance of a smoking-hot flasher.
She took the cigarette from Jacob’s hand, had a puff and gave it back to him. “Can’t say I didn’t see that coming.”
“Terry and V
al? I guess I should have.”
“It’s the score tonight. It could go south. Val knows this could be her last chance.”
“Like soldiers in London the night before D-Day. Nine months later they had a mini baby boom.”
“Really?”
“Really. Explains Sam going to Jinks.”
“And me?”
“I guess Cord was what you wanted. Seems like a . . . what the fuck do I know. Did you enjoy yourself?”
“It wasn’t un-fun.”
“A glowing review. ‘Juliet, now that you finally bedded Romeo, how was it?’ ‘Well, Mr. Cronkite, is wasn’t un-fun.’
“Not every time is roses and poison. Sometimes a tumble is just a tumble. Thirty minutes where you don’t think.”
“Sounds deep.”
“Are you angry with me, Jake?”
“No.” He sparked a fresh cig, not looking at her. The silence grew, stretching to uncomfortable.
Heist Night
8:00 p.m.
The rusted-out van was parked on Montgomery near Broadway. Sardine was grinding his jaw rhythmically as he waited blocks from Taxi Dancer. He and Cracker were trading off watching the door with binoculars. Cracker hadn’t shut the hell up about his fucking mouth, some bullshit about needing to see a dentist. What the fuck. Even Black Oak Arkansas wasn’t calming him down, and Jim Dandy always did the job. The Bolivian marching powder Breeze had fronted them was gone. They switched to whites at the Golden Gate Bridge.
Even this early there was a line down the street—fags, freaks and glitter boys, all waiting to enter the club. It was New Year’s Eve and the last day of the bicentennial. Red, white and blue were the chosen colors by many. Leaning against a brick wall, Uncle Sam in star-spangled hot pants was Frenching Abe Lincoln. Sardine felt his stomach go sour at the sight. Fucking out in the open for God and all to see. This shit wouldn’t play back home. He wiped the sweat off his brow and scanned the street. Up on Broadway it was even worse. It was a full-on freak show.
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