Tallulah Bankhead Slept Here

by Sam Lollar

  “Ah, come on. Just try the pants on with it. And here, put these boots on as well.”

  “Scott, this is ridiculous. No sane person would wear this stuff.”

  “Just do me a favor, okay? Try them on. If you don’t like them, you don’t have to wear them. Please?”

  “Oh, all right,” I said, resigning myself to the inevitable. Going back to the bathroom, I slipped the low-riding black pants on, realizing they were even tighter than the shirt was. I slipped the boots on, which was no easy task with the tight clothes, but I managed and returned for Scott’s inspection.

  “There, are you satisfied?” I asked, somewhat defensively, I’m afraid. I kept my arms folded across my chest. I was very uncomfortable, both being in Scott’s room and modeling suggestive clothes for him.

  “You look fantastic,” he said as I modeled for him. “Just look at you. I knew you wore a twenty-eight waist. And those boots are great. I guessed at their size, too.”

  “You mean you went out and bought these clothes for me? I figured you just had a bunch of clothes lying around. I didn’t know you went out to specifically buy me things.”

  “Sure I did. I wanted to make you happy, and I thought you’d like some nice clothes to wear. Turn around. Damn. You look great.”

  I turned and saw myself in the large mirror over the desk for the first time. I was stunned. The clothes did flatter my physique. What most astounded me, though, was the sizable bulge in the crotch of the pants. Blushing profusely, I promptly entered the bathroom to change clothes.

  “Aaron, wait. Don’t change. Please, you look spectacular.”

  “I couldn’t possibly have Miss LuLu, or your cousin, or your Mom, for God’s sake, see me like this. They can see everything I’ve got. I would die of embarrassment.”

  “Oh, baby, don’t think that.”

  Oh, baby? I thought.

  “We don’t have to go with the others if you don’t want to. Let’s just the two of us go out instead. We can go anywhere you want. Please don’t change clothes, Aaron. You’re beautiful.”

  *

  “Granddad. You must have been terrified. You were a year younger than I am now. I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

  “I was scared all right, but I knew I was able to take care of myself. All those years of track and weight training—I felt I could handle myself if needed.”

  *

  By this time, I was getting frightened. I tore off the clothes, changed back into my bellman’s “uniform,” and stormed out of the bathroom. I grabbed the handle of the front door, pulled, and tried to walk through, but it was still closed. I ran smack into it.

  “Why won’t this fucking door open?”

  “It locks automatically with a deadbolt. You have to use the key to open it.”

  “Then open the damned thing,” I said, becoming more and more enraged.

  “Aaron, please don’t go.”

  “I said open the fucking door, or I go through the window.” I began taking the painting of Pete or Manuel down.

  “Aaron,” Scott said as he took my arm. “Aaron, please calm down.”

  “You let go of me. Get away from me. Don’t talk to me. Is this why you had to leave Chicago? Because you were attacking guys in your room? Or was it because you were spying on people like you do in room 250?” I was enraged, and I attacked with the ammunition I had at hand.

  “What? That’s a horrible thing to say. No, that’s not why I left Chicago. I’ll tell you about it if you like and—wait a minute, what do you mean ‘spying on people’?”

  I was calming down and feeling a bit self-conscious, sorry I had let him know I knew about the peepholes to room 250. “Uh, I saw you spying on that newlywed couple the other day. Uh, you were…uh…masturbating.”

  He blanched, letting go of my arm while he sat down on the side of the bed. “Oh, my God.”

  “I’m sorry, Scott, I didn’t mean to say that. You just scared me. I really am sorry.”

  He didn’t respond immediately, just cradled his head in his hands while sitting on the side of the bed. I soon realized he was crying softly. He looked up at me, and I could see tears streaming down his cheeks in the dim light. I really didn’t know what to do, so I stood at the door. “Aaron, please don’t mention this to anyone. Promise me you won’t say anything.”

  I felt oddly compassionate and oddly aroused by this switch in roles—from Scott calling the shots to me knowing this nasty little secret about him.

  “Scott, I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to do.”

  “You didn’t tell Bob or Mama, did you?”

  “No. You know, I’ve never heard you call her ‘Mama’ before.”

  “Oh, did I? I guess it just slipped out. I’ve called her Dollie for so long, I sometimes forget that she is my mom. I’m very fond of her, you know. She’s my best friend.”

  “I would never have guessed that.”

  “Yes. She’s always stood by me and been a source of my strength. You didn’t tell her about seeing me, did you?”

  “No. I told you I didn’t say anything. It’s getting late. The others will wonder why we’re taking so long in here.”

  “Aaron, oh baby…” Scott said softly, tears flowing down his cheeks.

  “Please, Scott. Don’t call me baby. It frightens me. I don’t know what you want from me—or maybe I do—but I know I can’t be what you want me to be. I’m not your baby. I’m me, Aaron. I don’t know what else to be.”

  “Aaron, ever since you began working here, I’ve been watching you.”

  “What do you mean? Do you have peepholes in other places?” I asked, thinking of the times I changed clothes or used the bathroom.

  “No. No, of course not,” he said softly. “I mean I watch you as you work. The easy grace you have, the way you walk, the way you laugh, the way the sun sparkles in your hair, the brightness of your smile, the beauty of your muscular body. Aaron, you knock me out.”

  I stood silent for a while, letting the impact of his words sift through my defense system. What’s he saying to me? I wondered. Apparently he’s queer, and I’m his next conquest.

  “Scott, I’m at a loss for words,” I said to him. “I simply don’t know what to say, or how to respond to you. You frighten me. Are you homosexual?”

  He bowed his head slightly and looked at the rug. “Yes. Yes I am. I think I’m falling in love with you.”

  Now it was my turn to look away. “How can you be falling in love with me? I’m a guy. I mean, I know you’re queer and all, but…but…I’m a guy, that’s all. How can you love another guy?”

  “I don’t know, Aaron. That’s just the way it is. I thought perhaps you were gay, too. I hoped you were.”

  “Well, I’m not.” Am I? I did think Scott was very attractive. I’d always liked to watch him at the pool. His hairy chest was like a magnet for my eyes. Why is that? I asked myself while watching Scott rise from the bed and walk toward me.

  “You touch me, cocksucker, and so help me, I’ll break your arm.”

  He smiled a strange crooked smile and embraced me. To my amazement, I didn’t resist. I let him hold me, rubbing his hands along my back. At first he embraced me gently, but gradually he held me tighter and tighter. He kissed my neck. All my warning bells were clanging at full volume, but I stood there letting him plant kiss after kiss on my neck, my throat, my cheek. When he tried to kiss my mouth, I pulled back. “Scott,” I said softly, “please let me out. I’m going to be sick.”

  He stood back from me and smiled that crooked smile again as he unlocked the door with his key. I threw up in the parking lot, right next to the front wheel of a gorgeous black Camaro. All I could think of was I always tossed my cookies at this motel—first in Miss LuLu’s bedroom, and now outside Scott’s door. I felt his hand on my back, rubbing softly between my shoulder blades.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Hell no, I’m not all right. Get your hands off me.”

  He backed a
way, handing me a washcloth. I took it and got up. “I can’t work here anymore.” I said.

  “Aaron, I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I don’t want you to quit. Please don’t go away. I promise not to bother you again. Just keep working here. Dollie’s awfully fond of you, you know. She would be sad if you quit. She’d blame me for it, too. I don’t want to be the reason for you to quit. Please say you’ll stay.”

  “Well, I’m going home now. Maybe I’ll be back tomorrow, I’ll see.”

  “What’s going on?” I heard Miss LuLu ask as I tried to stand.

  “Oh, I don’t think dinner agreed with Aaron too much.”

  “Are you all right?” she asked me.

  “No, ma’am, I’m not all right. I need to get away from here.”

  “You what? What’s going on? Why do you need to get away?”

  “Scott started—”

  “Aaron, please. Let’s talk about this privately,” Scott interrupted.

  “Oh, my. Apparently, I’ve stepped into the middle of some personal situation. Dahlings, I’ve seen it all and done it all, so if you need an impartial mediator, I’m your gal.”

  “Thanks, but I think this is something Aaron and I need to discuss alone.”

  “Guess again, Scott. Alone is not something that is going to happen.”

  “Aaron, you sound really angry,” Miss LuLu said. “What’s going on? What has Scott done? What are you so angry about?”

  “Aaron, please, let’s not go into this now,” Scott pleaded. “Let’s just go to Juarez with the others and have a good time. We can talk about all this tomorrow when we are both calmer.”

  “Do you really think I’m just going to jump in the car with you and the others and tool around Juarez like nothing’s happened?”

  “Aaron, come walk me to my room,” Miss LuLu said. “Scott, why don’t you go tell the others we’ll be a few minutes late.”

  She took my arm, and we left Scott standing at his open door. “What happened, doll?” she asked as we walked along.

  “Nothing. I really don’t want to discuss it.”

  “You are among friends, you know.”

  “With friends like these, I sure as hell don’t need enemies.”

  “Now, now. This is just a hunch, but did Scott make a pass at you?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Scott’s hungry for you, dahling. The way he treats you, the way he’s deferential to you. He is smitten, as we used to say in the old days. Did he touch you? Is that why you’re upset?”

  “Oh, Miss LuLu. I don’t know what to think.” I started crying, deep heavy sobs from a pain and fear I couldn’t understand.

  She cradled my head on her shoulder as she cooed softly in my ear. “Let it out. Cry if you want. You really are among friends.” We continued back to her room, and she sat me on the edge of her bed. The phone rang, and I heard her answer.

  “Oh, nothing really,” I heard her say. “Aaron’s a little upset, that’s all. Why don’t you all go on without us? I think he needs a friend tonight, and it looks like I’m it. Sure, I’ll tell him. Have fun.” She hung up and turned to me. “I just told them to go on without us. They’re concerned. Everyone here is so fond of you, they’re upset that you’re upset.”

  Miss LuLu and I talked for a long time. I heard many stories about her exploits in Hollywood, the various stars she had to work with and the difficulties she endured being a strong-willed woman in a male-dominated industry, all the while refusing to admit her real name. She even mentioned a brief fling she had had with another woman. But mostly, I talked. I was amazed at how understanding she was, especially after her previous efforts at getting me drunk. After an hour or so of my whining and sobbing, she reached over and wiped my eyes with a washcloth. “You know, doll, I’m afraid that I, too, have been hungry for you,” she said after a moment of silence.

  “What?” I started tensing up all over again.

  “Be calm,” she whispered. “I’m too much of a lady to make as strong an overture as Scott apparently did. But the other day, I really wanted you to—oh, how to say it genteelly, like a lady—I wanted you to ‘take’ me. Does that sound too hopelessly old-fashioned?”

  “Oh, Miss LuLu, maybe I’d better leave…”

  “Nonsense, doll. I just told you I’m not going to do anything to you. I just wanted you to realize that even if Scott made a pass at you, that doesn’t mean anything because I made a pass at you, too. If you’re worried about your manhood, you needn’t be. Women find you as attractive as homosexuals. I think your biggest problem right now is accepting the fact that anyone finds you sexually attractive and desirable. Don’t be insulted or angered when someone makes a pass at you. It really is a compliment, you know. Don’t be too hard on Scott. You don’t know the full story of his life, of his arrival in El Paso. Have you heard of Senior Rita?”

  “Senior Rita? No, who’s she?”

  “Scott,” Miss LuLu said softly. “Señorita, or Senior Rita, as they pronounce it, is Scott’s drag name.”

  “Drag name? You mean, like he dresses up like a woman and goes by Rita?”

  “Well, yes and no. He isn’t into dressing up like a woman, or at least Dollie doesn’t think so. And he didn’t choose the name Rita. That seems to be the nickname he’s acquired from the drag queens and others at the couple of gay bars in town. From what Dollie says, it really hurts him to be called that. But I think it’s a good signal to us, to you, that Scott really is a lonely soul. He doesn’t have many friends among his gay cohorts and few among the straight people. Maybe rather than hating Scott, you should feel a bit sorry for him, don’t you think?”

  “I guess,” I said. “I don’t think I can work here anymore, though.”

  “Oh, nonsense. You’re just angry and frightened. How many times has anyone made a serious pass at you?”

  “Well, never, really. I mean, unless you count Scott tonight.”

  “And me the other day,” she said. “You just lack practice in dealing with people on such an intimate basis, that’s all. People will be making passes at you a lot in years to come, I’d imagine.”

  “But what does Scott want with me? I’m a guy. I don’t understand.”

  “Well, that’s the whole point of being gay, I suppose. I was attracted to a young woman I knew many years ago. It’s just like wanting someone of the opposite sex. Look, you’re attractive, young, and full of life. You are innocent in a way that older adults envy. You’re not jaded or tired of living, like so many of us are. It’s my guess that Scott sees a bit of himself in you, maybe a bit of his lost adolescence, lost opportunities, and he wants to connect with that part of himself through you. And of course, you probably just turn him on, too.”

  The conversation continued until about ten thirty when the phone rang. I excused myself to go to the bathroom as Miss LuLu answered. When I returned, she told me Scott had called from Juarez and was asking if I was all right. “Actually, he invited us to meet them there, if you were feeling better.”

  “I don’t know,” I began.

  “It might be a good idea, you know. You’re going to see Scott again, and why not do so in a safe environment when you have friends around for support?”

  “Well, what do you think?”

  “I think we should go.”

  “Let me call my roommate and let him know.”

  After I hung up, Miss LuLu asked, “Shall we go?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Do you want to drive? You know I’m not a very good driver.”

  “Would you mind if we took a cab?”

  “That’s a great idea. That way we don’t have to worry about driving over there. I’ve heard real horror stories about driving in Mexico.”

  About forty minutes later, we entered the Mammouth and found Scott, Ron, and Mimi with little trouble. Actually, Ron was at the table, and Scott and Mimi were dancing. “I don’t dance, I’m afraid,” Ron said as we sat at the table.

  As soon as he saw us, Scott
led Mimi back to the table. “How’re you feeling?” Mimi asked me. “Scott said your dinner didn’t agree with you. I didn’t think the chow mein was particularly good, but it didn’t make me sick.”

  “No, no. I’m all right, really.”

  “What’d you have? I want to be sure and not eat it,” Mimi asked.

  “Oh, I had the sweet and sour pork. Maybe the sauce was old or something,” I said, trying not to incriminate Li, the cook, or the restaurant.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Do you feel up to dancing?” she asked me. “I’m afraid I’m wearing Scott out.”

  “Sure, why not?” We went to the dance floor, me in my best bellboy clothes and Mimi in her beautiful party dress. She was quite a dancer, which was good, because I was pretty bad. As we danced, I glanced around the dance floor and was chilled to see two men dancing together. Just as I was about to panic, I noticed them turn and start dancing with two women.

  After a bit, we returned to the table, just as Scott and Miss LuLu got up to dance. “You make a lovely couple,” she said as Mimi and I sat down.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  We had a pleasant time. Scott and Miss LuLu danced, Mimi and I danced, Miss LuLu and I danced, and Mimi and Scott danced. I was beginning to feel sorry for Ron. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he said. “I really don’t like to dance. I enjoy watching everyone else have fun. And I’m delighted Mimi’s having such a good time.”

  Mimi had had a few drinks by then and was a bit less inhibited than usual. “The reason he doesn’t like to dance is because he doesn’t know how.”

  “Mimi,” Ron said in mock horror. “Oh, all right. The secret’s out. Ron is a klutz. I cannot dance without breaking my partner’s toes. It’s for the good of the country that I not dance.”

  “I bet I could teach you how to dance,” Miss LuLu said.

  “I’ve been to Arthur Murray, I’ve taken dance classes at college, all to no avail. I’m hopeless, I’m afraid.”

  “Come with me,” she said, taking his hand and leading him to the dance floor.

  We anticipated a Laurel and Hardy impression, but to everyone’s surprise, Ron and Miss LuLu were doing a passable impersonation of two people dancing.