by Sam Lollar
“She’s in the office with a customer.”
Scott went to the back office and entered the room without knocking. “Scott,” I heard Mrs. Schuster yell.
Miss LuLu shrieked.
“I’ll just be a sec,” Scott said. “Dollie, I need fifty bucks to go downtown.” A moment later he came out, putting a wad of money into his billfold.
“Did you see her?” I asked as he came into the lobby.
“Who?” he asked, not looking up at me.
“You know. Miss LuLu.”
“Oh, her. Some old broad. Hedy Lamarr, I think. Or Tallulah Bankhead? Maybe Kathryn Grayson—is she still alive? I can never tell any of those old cows apart.”
“You’re no help,” I said. “What are you shopping for?”
“Oh, nothing in particular. You want me to get anything for you?” he asked me.
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll get you something pretty.”
“Oh, sure. Like a time bomb, I’ll bet.”
“No, no. I’ll surprise you,” he said as he left. He went out to the parking lot and got into the black Lincoln, the car we used for picking people up at the airport and running errands. As he left, we heard him exclaim, “Shit. Fuck. Damn. It’s so fucking hot.”
“Watch out,” Bob said to me.
“Huh? Watch out for what?”
“Beware of strangers bearing gifts. Scott never gives without wanting something in return.”
“What could he possibly want from me? I’m working as a bellboy, for God’s sake. I don’t have anything he could possibly want.”
Bob broke into uncontrollable laughter just as Mrs. Schuster and Miss LuLu entered the lobby.
“Miss LuLu will be staying with us for six months. She’ll stay in Room 164; let’s block 163, 165, and 264 as well. Rent them last. Miss LuLu doesn’t want a lot of noise around her. Aaron, show Miss LuLu to her suite.”
“Yes, ma’am. Miss LuLu, if you’ll follow me in your car, I’ll show you where to park and help unload your luggage.”
“Thank you, dahling,” she cooed. “Why not be a dear and drive my car for me? I’m just no good at driving that race car.”
She didn’t need to ask me twice. “Yes, ma’am. Bob, give me the keys to Miss LuLu’s car, please.”
He tossed the keys to me. I caught them as I was opening the door for Miss LuLu and Pookie to exit.
“What kind of dog is she?” I asked as we walked toward her car.
“He’s a Shih Tzu. That’s a rare breed here in the States, but they’re all the rage in Europe. And, dahling, he’s a he, not a she. I think.”
“Oh, sorry.” We got to her car, and she sat in the passenger seat as I walked around to the driver’s side. As I climbed in, she lowered her sunglasses slightly and looked me up and down as I started the ignition. “Yes, ma’am?” I asked.
“Oh, sorry, dahling. I was just admiring your…uh, your blazer. Never mind me.”
“My blazer?” I wondered. The one thing you could say about it was that it was totally unremarkable.
We got to suite 164. Actually, “suite” was too elegant a term for it. It was just an ordinary room with a small kitchenette attached and a door connecting to an adjacent room she wasn’t using. “Here we are,” I informed her. As I parked the car, she again lowered her glasses and smiled at me in what I could only think of as a “come hither” look. Feeling a bit uncomfortable, I jumped out of the car and opened the door for her.
*
“Jeez, Granddad. Was she coming on to you, too? You must have been some hot stud muffin back then.”
“What do you mean, ‘back then,’ whippersnapper? I’ll have you know I’m still a stud muffin.”
“Give me a break.”
*
Entering room 164, I quickly turned on the air-conditioning, informing her the room would take a few minutes to cool down.
I went to the car’s trunk. “Do you have any luggage for me to bring in?”
“Why, yes, dahling, that would be sweet of you. Do be careful with my hat boxes, please.”
Hat boxes? I didn’t know people still wore hats, unless they were cowboy hats.
I opened the trunk. Despite its small size, there were several suitcases and two hat boxes inside. The hat boxes were light, but everything else weighed a ton. It took me several trips to unload.
“Here’s everything,” I said as I brought the last bag inside.
“Thank you, dahling. The rest of my things will be coming later. Let me give you something for your kindness,” she said, rummaging in her handbag. “Here’s a dollar, but I look forward to giving you something else another time,” she whispered. She stroked my wrist and hand as I reached for the dollar.
Feeling somewhat awkward about this and curious about her last statement, I quickly exited the room. Walking back to the lobby, I noticed the guy in room 251 was still there. His red Camaro, the first year for these beauties, hadn’t been moved from the previous night when he checked in. Since it was late afternoon, I began to wonder if there was a problem. I went upstairs and knocked on the door. A moment later it swung open, the man standing completely naked.
“Uh, I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if everything was all right?” I stammered as he carelessly scratched his crotch.
“Oh, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just beat. I drove all yesterday and about died last night when I went to bed. I just got up a little while ago. What time is it?”
“It’s about four thirty.”
“In the afternoon?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yeah, you really must have slept hard.”
“Geez, did I. Well, thanks for waking me,” he said, as he turned and closed the door.
Odd people around here, I thought.
*
“Odd is right. Was everybody either naked or sex maniacs?” Junior asked.
“Nah, maybe I’m just remembering all the sexy things, though. There was a lot of hanky-panky going on, believe me.”
“‘Hanky-panky’? What does that mean?” Number Three asked.
“You know full well what that means. Don’t pretend you’re too young to understand us older folks.”
*
Anyway, Scott returned about five and pulled the black Lincoln into what he considered to be “his” parking place right in front of the lobby windows. He jumped out of the car, slammed the door, and charged into the lobby, where I was stationed behind the front desk. In the late afternoon, when there were so few customers, Bob frequently left me alone there, while he “played with his wife upstairs,” as he was always telling me.
“Aaron. Let me show you what I got,” Scott said as he entered the lobby.
“What?” I tried to sound disinterested, as he always did whenever I asked him something.
“Get over here. Don’t let Dollie see these. She thinks I already have too many shoes, but aren’t these great?”
He showed me three or four pairs of expensive shoes in various styles. They looked a lot like, well, shoes, so I didn’t know what to say. “They’re real nice,” I tried to say convincingly.
“Oh, you have no taste. These are great. George was wearing some just like this last month when I saw him in Tampa. That’s why I wanted them,” he explained.
“George who?” I had to ask.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I don’t know why I try to tell you anything. George Hamilton, of course. What other George would he be?”
“I don’t know. Maybe George Jessel or George Washington. How am I supposed to know who your friends are?” I shot back at him.
“Don’t go getting testy on me, now. Not when I got something nice for you, too,” he said, speaking more softly than before.
“I can hardly wait,” I said. “A nice pair of wingtips, perhaps?”
“Jeez, you’re such a shit. No. We have to go get it. Where’s Bob?”
“Upstairs, ‘pl
aying with his wife,’ as he puts it.”
“God. They fuck more than any two people I’ve ever known. And why he wants to with that big cow is anybody’s guess.”
“Well, you know they say love is blind,” I said, never having actually seen his wife.
“It’d have to be with those two. Lucky for you that you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing,” he said.
“What kind of thing?” I asked, somewhat unsure of where this conversation was going.
“You know, having someone have to be blind to fuck you.”
*
“Granddad. He actually said that?”
“Yep, and it got progressively worse as the months wore on.”
*
“Fuck me? I don’t think I want to hear any more about this, thank you very much,” I said. “Why do you want to know where Bob is, anyway?”
“Well, someone has to watch the front desk so we can go get your present.”
“I’m the only one here, so I don’t know what to tell you.”
“Damn. Aren’t you even the least bit curious to know what I got you?”
“Not really. Bob warned me to ‘beware of strangers bearing gifts.’”
“Oh, that shithead. I’m not a stranger, and there’s nothing to beware of, for God’s sake.”
He came around the desk and dialed Bob’s apartment. He told him to come downstairs, that he and I had someplace to go. Moments later, Bob entered the lobby, looking more like he had taken a nap than made love to his wife. I was beginning to think Bob had been lying to me about all the lovemaking he and his wife had done.
“What’s the deal?” Bob asked as he came in from the utility room.
“Aaron and I have to run an errand.”
“What kind of ‘errand’?”
“We’re going to get his ‘present.’” Scott was practically gleeful as he began ushering me out the door.
“When are you coming back? Wait a minute. Dollie wants Aaron to run some errands for her later. When are you coming back?”
I looked back at Bob helplessly as Scott just waved, grabbing the sleeve of my blazer and pulling me along. “When will we be back?” I asked.
“Soon. I don’t know. Don’t worry so much. All Dollie wants you to do is pick up some snacks at the deli downtown.”
“How do you know?”
“Would you just get in the car and quit asking so many questions?”
I got in the front seat of the Lincoln. “Shit. Fuck. Damn. These seats are hot,” I said, mimicking him.
Scott, who was wearing shorts, gingerly got behind the wheel. “This is the last car I get with black leather seats,” he complained.
Moments later we were cool in the air-conditioned car as he rocketed down the highway.
“Where are we going?” I asked him.
“Out to Holloman Air Force Base.”
“What’s out there? Do they sell shoes?”
“Ha ha. Very funny. No, there’s a soldier out there who’s selling his car, and I want to take a look at it.”
“Neat. What kind of car?”
“Oh, you’ll find out.”
For the next hour, we chitchatted. I don’t think the car ever went less than eighty miles an hour.
“Why did you and Mrs. Schuster decide to come to El Paso?” I asked after our conversation lagged.
“Oh, Dollie’s arthritis is kind of bad since she’s big as a house, you know. The doctor’s thought the drier climate would be good for her.”
“Oh, I heard someone say that you had to leave Chicago.”
“Who said that? That’s a fucking lie. Dollie’s wanted to leave Chicago for a long time. This motel became available, so we bought it.”
“Why did you come with her? You always say you hate El Paso.”
“I do hate it, but I had to come out to help Dollie. And, if you must know, it’s my money she used to buy the motel.”
“Your money? Bob said Mrs. Schuster came from a very wealthy family.”
“She does, but they cut her off financially, when…uh, well, let’s just say she used my money to buy the motel. Now, stop asking so many questions. Here’s the entrance to the base.”
I learned later everything he had just said were outright lies. We entered the military housing area and finally found the right address after much searching. All the housing units looked alike until Scott yelled out, “There it is.”
At that moment, I glanced over and saw the duplicate to Miss LuLu’s Mustang, white vinyl over pink.
“Wow. That’s just like Miss LuLu’s.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to get it. I know how much you liked it.”
Before I could ask what he was driving at, we pulled into the driveway, right behind the Mustang.
As we got out of the Lincoln, a young man came out the front door. “You Scott?”
“Yep. That’s me.”
“Well, this’s it. A real beauty, ain’t she? Man, I love this car.”
“Why are you selling it?” I asked.
“Well, as I told Scott, here, my wife’s pregnant, and I won’t be able to make the car payments after the baby comes. Who are you?”
“He’s a friend of mine,” Scott said. “Aaron. He’ll drive the car back, if we buy it.”
“Oh, pleased to meet you,” he said. “I’m Pete.”
“Hi,” I said, shaking his hand.
I looked at the car as Scott and Pete talked. In just a matter of minutes, Scott handed me the keys.
“Did you buy it?”
“Oh, yeah. Nothing to it.”
“Did you give him any money?”
“Ah, it’s all taken care of. Now do you want to drive it back or not?”
“Yes, sure I do.” I jumped at the chance to drive it the eighty-five miles back to the motel.
“I told you I’d get you something pretty, didn’t I?” Scott beamed as he gave me the keys.
“What do you mean?” I was suddenly wary of him.
“It’s a present, Aaron. A gift. Which words don’t you understand?”
*
“Wait a minute, Granddad. You mean this guy just gave you a Mustang?”
“Yep, that’s what I mean. He just gave me a Mustang. And it wasn’t the only car he gave me over the months.”
“What did you have to do for it?” Three asked.
“As it turned out, I didn’t really keep it, but Scott did indeed have a master plan for my seduction.”
“This is amazing. Do you have any pictures of you from that time? I can’t believe you could have been so gorgeous that you had movie stars fawning over you and men giving you cars. Granddad. You could have been rich. You could have been a gigolo.”
“Just listen to the rest of the story.”
*
I mulled over Scott’s offer of the gift as I jumped behind the wheel of the Mustang, greed and an eagerness to drive the car overcoming my feelings of doubt about the whole thing.
It got dark as I drove the Mustang across the desert, the lights of Scott’s Lincoln in my rearview mirror. What kind of “gift” was this? I wondered. Why would he be giving me such a thing? Obviously, I couldn’t possibly keep it. Could I? What would my mom say about this? Should I tell her? Should I accept it? What did he want in return? The skeptic in me began to evaluate the situation. Bob had repeatedly warned me about Scott, making allusions to something sinister about him that I should be wary of. But the beauty of the nighttime desert and the smooth flow of power from the car were hypnotic. I drove, feeling maybe I could own this car, that I could have a bit of “the good life” at the age of eighteen.
The drive through the desert night was grand. I kept the windows down to feel its rush on my face, music coming in faintly over the AM radio. Sixty-five miles an hour. The Lincoln’s headlights filled my rearview mirror. Seventy-five miles an hour—the Lincoln began to drop back. 80 miles an hour. Eighty-five, ninety—I was exultant, speed and power perhaps the ultimate aphrodisiac for any
eighteen-year-old boy.
As we entered the city limits driving in on Dyer Street, I slowed down as Scott flashed his lights at me so he could pass me. He motioned for me to follow him. We drove into downtown, which, during the middle of the week and at that time of night, was pretty much deserted. He parked in front of an out-of-the-way little tavern, and I pulled in behind him. As I was turning off the ignition, Scott came around to the driver’s side and told me to wait, that he wanted a friend of his to see the car. As I sat there, humming along with the Supremes on the radio, I noticed a few men entering the bar. They wore some of the most bizarre clothes I’d ever seen. Man, I thought, I’d never be caught dead in something like that.
*
“I can guess what kind of a place that was, Granddad. What were the men wearing?” Three asked.
“Just some very feminine types of clothes. Wide bell-bottom pants, frilly shirts that looked more like blouses to me. Some even looked like they had makeup on. That turned out to be the first gay bar I ever saw.”
“Wow, Granddad. Was that when you realized you were gay?”
“Not then, no. But later that summer, it became apparent even to me.”
*
A few moments later, Scott emerged with the strangest-looking woman I’d ever seen. I got out of the car as Scott walked up and introduced me.
“This is Aaron,” he said.
“I’m so charmed to make your acquaintance, dear boy,” she said. “My name is Regina, with a loooong ‘i.’”
“Yeah, it rhymes with ‘vagina,’” Scott piped in, laughing.
“Eat shit,” Regina said in a stage whisper.
I was dumbstruck. Her voice was low and sultry, and her clothes were simply beyond my experience. She wore a brilliant red and gold tent dress and gold spiked heels. But I couldn’t take my eyes off her hair. It seemed to be at least three feet of impossibly teased platinum blonde hair. I did begin to wonder if the men I’d seen entering the bar earlier and this woman were all victims of an incredibly poor fashion sense, or was something else going on?