Family Affair (15 page)

Chase scanned the crowd looking for potential hazards. Gitana noticed. "How many others do we have to look out for?"

"At least three."

"That's the problem with Pride. Your past keeps popping up," Delia said.

Graciela came back with another round. Chase slipped a twenty in her pocket.

"Thanks, dude. So confess."

"Do I have to?" Chase sipped her beer and avoided the eyes fixed upon her.

A unanimous "Yes," was the response.

"All right, I guess I have to. I'll make it short. I was a freak magnet. I wasn't the pursuer."

"You were the fish," Graciela said. "Not a good position. So, sis put the moves on you."

"Pretty much."

"Nice work." She patted Gitana on the back.

"We know that part. Who was your first, second and third?" Delia said.

"You know, that's one of the pitfalls of hanging out with another writer, you probe."

"You were the one that brought up cannibalization which requires a lot of material." Delia reminded her.

"What the hell? Is that something kinky like in The Hunger?" Graciela asked, turning around yet again to check out a girl wearing a thong and pasties.

"You're going to throw out your neck if you keep doing that," Gitana said. She poured her leftover ice from her first lemonade into her second. The day had grown hot as summer slowly made its way forward.

"No, it's a writing term, smut-head," Chase informed her.

"Anyway, back to the subject at hand," Delia said.

"All right, back to my sordid past. It's comprised of three psychopaths. The first was Janet. She was on my soccer team when I was sixteen—up to that point I had no interest in boys and successfully avoided all school dances. Lacey had told me enough about blow jobs, sweaty humping and spooge that I was steering clear of sex."

"Okay, we got that part. Get to the juicy stuff," Graciela said. She took a quick peek at a tall black woman in a tight dress.

"Janet seduced me in my bedroom when we were supposed to be studying geometry. She pinned me down, kissed and banged me until I couldn't breathe or see straight."

"You weren't straight anymore," Gitana said.

"Good thing for you," Graciela said.

"We spent a lot of study time doing this which is probably why I suck at math." Chase sipped her beer and felt pensive. She was glad she was gay.

"She does suck at math," Gitana said.

"It was orgasms or equations."

"Enough math, go on," Delia said.

"Your impatience is why your writing lacks appropriate pacing. All you want to do is get to the end," Chase said.

"I know," Delia replied.

"Back to my story—my mother found us in a compromising position."

"Sucking face or booty?" Graciela said.

"That's disgusting," Gitana said, slapping Graciela on the shoulders, spilling her beer.

"Hey, watch it. This stuff is precious manna."

"Especially at four dollars a cup," Delia said.

"So which was it?" Graciela asked.

"The latter," Chase said.

"Rock on, dude," Delia said.

"My mother hauled us both into the living room. I was certain I was headed to military school and then I remembered there'd be lots of girls there. I was almost relieved because Janet entertained thoughts of us spending the rest of our lives together, right down to buying kitchen utensils."

"Then what happened?" Gitana asked, now seeming as eager as the others.

"My mother, in her usual cunning fashion, told us to keep our mouths shut and conduct ourselves discreetly."

"That was it?" Gitana seemed amazed.

"Stella is all about appearance and she's not horribly interested in adolescent sexuality."

"And then?" Graciela prodded.

"Enter liaison number two—not technically a girlfriend."

"A fuck buddy," Delia said, looking mournfully into her empty cup. Graciela took it and poured half of hers into it.

"I guess you could call it that," Chase said. She looked apologetically at Gitana.

"Don't worry. I had a few. You're supposed to do that so later on you can be a stable and monogamous partner," Gitana said.

The beer cart appeared.

"Hey, over here," Graciela called out.

The bare-chested, tight-jean-clad blond man smiled and came over. "Yes?"

"We need a round except for the fat lady." She indicated Gitana. "Do you have water?"

"Yes." He pulled a bottle of Dasani and handed it to her.

"I'm not fat yet," Gitana said, giving Graciela another good smack in the arm.

Chase waved off Delia and Graciela's attempt to pay. "I got it covered."

"Cool, thanks, man." Graciela sipped her fresh beer, leaving a trace of a foam mustache.

"Back to the story," Delia said.

Chase took a sip of beer and then resumed. She was feeling better by the moment. Beer—the true anesthetic. Tomorrow would be an entirely different affair.

"Janet caught me in my bedroom with the goalie. Stella had sworn Janet to secrecy about our affair and we had to do it in my room. So I figured that rule applied to all. Janet must have suspected something. She got past Stella easily enough and I was found out. It was horrible. Tears, screaming, and my first ugly breakup. I mean, I couldn't really be expected to be faithful, could I?"

"It's a bit late for remorse," Gitana said, opening her water. "I'm going to have to pee soon."

"Don't worry about it. It would be totally incomprehensible at that age. Hell, we're still sowing our wild oats," Graciela said.

"I couldn't conceive of it," Delia said. Now, she had the foam mustache. Graciela leaned over and licked it off.

"Thanks."

"And what about your next girlfriend?" Gitana asked.

"Now, you're interested," Chase said. She was getting more than she bargained for.

"This is all new to me," she said. She sipped her water and stared intently at Chase.

"Great, Pride has become the confessional."

"Rock on," Delia said.

"It's good for your soul," Gitana said.

"My soul was doing just fine before this," Chase remarked.

"Get on with it," Graciela said. She took her sneakers and socks off and dug her toes into the grass.

She was such a contradiction, Chase thought—impatient yet perfectly relaxed. It was queer, but then she'd never understood Graciela.

"She was a sophomore in college and I was a freshman. She was a southern belle sorority girl and I was an anarchist." Chase envisioned her dark hair, long legs and a drawl that made you think of antebellum porches and wisteria. Now that was a good time.

"Like in Ruby fruit Jungle?" Graciela said.

"Something like that. She was a complete nymphomaniac and dangerously jealous. She cut my English Lit of the 1900s in half with a meat cleaver."

"Why?" Delia said, her eyes large with excitement.

"She thought I was sleeping with the TA."

"Were you?" Gitana said. She seemed to already know the answer.

"Well, kind of."

"Another brief liaison?" Delia said. She too took off her socks and shoes, sticking her feet in the grass. Graciela's foot stroked hers.

"She read me Anne Cameron's poetry. I couldn't help myself." Chase didn't exactly feel remorseful. It had been lovely in her attic room, the afternoon sun flitting across the bed and their naked bodies entwined.

"Dude, you did get around," Graciela said.

"I'm sorry," Chase said, looking at Gitana.

"Baby, I could tell you'd had a little experience."

"Really," Chase said. She finished her beer.

"There were just certain things a woman of experience knows." She took her hand.

"Oh." Chase wondered what these things might be, but she certainly wasn't going to inquire. At least not here.

"Aside from that there was Tori, whom you've had the pleasure of meeting."

"I feel like I know you so much better," Graciela said, putting her shoes back on.

"Gag me. Now, can we see about finding the parenting booth?"

"Sure. You guys check that out. We're going to peruse the sex toy booth. We can meet at the center stage for the drag queen show in twenty minutes. It'll be perfect," Graciela said, hopping up.

"I can hardly wait," Chase said. She picked up all their trash and dumped it.

Delia and Graciela dashed off like all the sex toys might be gone before they got there.

Chase rolled her eyes. "I hate Pride."

"Well, you'll just have to get used to it. We have to bring the baby. This is part of her life."

"Poor thing. I don't think not having seen a drag show is going to stunt her growth in any way."

Chapter Eleven

Chase stood in the middle of Hilda Hoftmeyer's living room with twelve screaming kids. This was the result of her foray at Pride into the realm of parenting. It was a playdate seminar run by a woman hardly able to run her own life let alone a class on the parenting of children. Chase had deduced this in the first fifteen minutes of class.

"Would you like some iced tea?" Hilda Hoftmeyer said. She was a stout woman in pale blue polyester slacks two sizes too small and a somewhat matching floral blouse. Her chubby face made her look like a blooming eleven-year-old in a forty-something body. Chase found it disconcerting.