by Sam Lollar
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Scott said. “I don’t trust you, Bob, but I think I will go to look after Aaron. Are you sure you want to do this, Aaron?”
“No, but I’m going to anyway. What time?”
“You get off at eleven, how about then?”
“It’s Friday, Scott. I think we should go earlier than that,” Bob said “Let’s head out at ten instead.”
“Okay with me. Aaron? How about it? It’s your party, after all.”
“Yeah, ten’s fine with me, too,” I said, feeling really apprehensive about the whole thing. We arrived at the motel and Scott parked the Lincoln in his usual spot. Next to it was a beautiful Mercedes 230 SL. “Wow. Nice car,” I said.
“I just got it,” Scott said.
“Jesus. Scott. Did you steal this one, too?” Bob asked, incredulous.
“No. I didn’t steal the Cadillac, either, but I did pay for this one. Do you like it, Aaron?”
“Why do you care if I like it?”
“Well, I got it for you, to apologize for last night. I told you I’d make it up to you. Do you like it?”
“What’s not to like? But you know I won’t take a gift from you.”
As we walked around the Mercedes, Bob just whistled, turned to me, and said, “Jeez, kid, I’d take it if it was me.” He walked into the motel.
Scott turned to me and said, “Aaron, we’ve got to talk. Are you sure you really want to go to a strip show tonight with Bob?”
“I’m going. Are you?” I asked in as threatening a voice as I could manage.
“Yes. I’ll go because I don’t think you really want to do this.”
“Do what? I went to the burlesque house last night. It’s not like I’ve not done it before.”
“I think you know full well what Bob plans to do. He’s as transparent as glass. He’s going to take you to a whorehouse, isn’t he?”
I turned several shades of red and walked into the motel lobby without answering his question.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” he yelled after me.
The afternoon started out to be pretty routine. I went to look for missing televisions first thing, as Bob had asked me to do. It was a rather boring activity. I’d look in the open windows and place a check mark on my little room list if the television was there. If it wasn’t, I’d mark an X. Bob would report it to the police and file an insurance claim. I’d done the TV check several times and become rather adept at it. At the rooms with the drapes drawn, I’d knock. When the guests opened the door, I’d peek in and look for the televisions. Occasionally, no one was in the room although the drapes were drawn, in which case I’d open the door with my pass key. I was surprised that at least one TV a week went missing. In fact, after I’d been doing the checks for a few weeks, we had a carpenter rig up a system to chain them to the walls. After that, very few were stolen.
This particular afternoon, I was around the back side of the motel where the weird things always seemed to happen. I had not found any sets missing, but I came to one room with drawn drapes. I knocked on the door, identifying myself in case the occupants were inside. Although I saw a yellow Camaro parked out front, no one answered. So I opened the door, using my pass key.
*
“And, guys, here’s where I saw Tallulah and the football captain.”
“All right. We’re getting to the good stuff,” Number Three said.
“Well, not all that good. Just wait.”
*
As the door opened, I glanced around the room to check for the television and looked in horror as I noticed a couple making love in the bed. The woman had her legs spread wide with a man humping enthusiastically, his rear end bouncing in full view, his butthole winking at me.
The man turned to look at me as the woman looked over his shoulder, both with eyes as wide as saucers.
“I guess you’re not watching your TV,” I said.
“No, uh, no we’re not,” he said as she shook her head.
I was really turned on by the scene, however. I’d been fascinated to see the man in such a blatantly sexual posture. I couldn’t shake the image from my mind. My embarrassment soon turned to humor as I realized how funny the episode really was. I went back to the lobby and told Bob the story.
He laughed out loud, slapping his leg, as tears streamed down his cheeks. Wiping his eyes, he looked at me and asked, “Well, did you take notes? Get some pointers?”
My amusement turned to embarrassment as I realized he expected me to be in the same position later that night. Could I really envision myself humping away between a whore’s legs? My God, I thought. What did I get myself into?
As I stood there, Bob answered the phone. “Yes, sir, that was the bellman. We have him check every afternoon to make sure the television sets are all present and accounted for. I’m sorry if he inconvenienced you in any way.” A moment passed, then Bob spoke again. “Yes, sir, I truly am sorry you’re upset by this. How about if we treat you and a guest to dinner at the Oriental Blossoms tonight? Come on by the front desk, and I’ll have a couple of vouchers for you.”
He apologized again and hung up. Still chuckling to himself, he looked at me and smiled. “I guess you really got to him. He said he and his girlfriend were sleeping and you woke them up. He probably lost his hard-on and couldn’t finish the job.” He laughed out loud. I couldn’t decide if I was in trouble for this or merely an innocent pawn.
“Ah, don’t worry about it, Aaron. You didn’t do anything wrong. Why on earth are they fucking at four o’clock in the afternoon, anyway? Don’t sweat it. You’re not the first bellman in history to walk in on a couple screwing their brains out. Don’t look so horrified.”
Mrs. Schuster walked in from the utility room. She looked first at me, with my look of dismay, and then at Bob, who was still hooting with laughter. “What on earth is going on here?”
“Oh, Dollie, our innocent lad here just walked in on a couple who were, shall we say, in flagrante delicto. He’s a bit mortified, I think.”
“Oh, my. Aaron, what did you see?”
I told her, and her laughter triggered Bob’s all over again. Scott entered as they were trying to contain themselves. “Oh good. Dollie, I was just looking for you. What are you both laughing at?”
“Aaron, you tell him,” Bob said, as he and Mrs. Schuster looked at each other and started laughing all over again. So again I related the episode, this time beginning to see more of the humor in it than before. Scott smiled at me and put his arm around my shoulder. “Well, at least now you know what it looks like.”
Bob and Mrs. Schuster joined Scott in renewed laughter. I walked out of the lobby, chuckling to myself at the absurdity of the whole thing.
Chapter Ten
A Chocolate and Vanilla Mercedes Sundae
The afternoon progressed rather uneventfully. Miss LuLu poked her head in the lobby to let us know she and Mrs. Schuster were heading out to go shopping. Watching Mrs. Schuster trying to get into the little Mustang was hard to take. I was so fond of her that I didn’t dare laugh, but it really did look like someone trying to stuff a sausage. As I turned away, I noticed Bob eyeing me carefully. “What?” I asked.
“I’m just glad to see that you didn’t laugh at Mrs. Schuster. She’s really sensitive about anyone seeing her, especially squeezing into a small car. She’s one of the sweetest women I know, and it hurts me to see people laugh at her.”
“I agree fully,” I said. “I can’t imagine laughing at her in any situation. She is such a nice woman.”
“You wouldn’t laugh even if it was her in bed with that guy?”
“Bob, that’s not even funny. Now I’ll be walking around with that image in my mind all day. And you’re getting dangerously close to laughing at her yourself.”
“Yeah, I suppose you’re right. She’s a real sweetie. Forget I said it.”
“Well, now I can’t. I just picture her legs wide open with that guy plowing away at her.”
Bob starting
giggling, and I started laughing, and just then Scott walked in. “Now what are you two laughing at? It seems I’m the only one who does any serious work around here,” he said in mock dismay.
“Oh, nothing really. Just reliving the sexual indelicacy Aaron told us about earlier.”
“Oh, yeah, that was a hoot. Say, Bob? You don’t need Aaron for anything right now, do you?”
“Well, yeah, I do. I want him to go find out who else is fucking in our nice little motel,” he said with obvious glee. “We don’t want the vice cops raiding the place.” Both he and Scott laughed out loud all over again.
“Just knock it off, you guys,” I said in what I hoped sounded like righteous indignation.
“Well, I’m going to steal him for a few hours. I need to get something downtown and need his help.”
“Oh, all right. I suppose I can live without him for a while. But don’t forget about tonight, Aaron.”
As Scott and I left the lobby, I got that unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach all over again. What had I gotten myself into?
Rather than get in the black Lincoln, Scott and I got into the Mercedes. It was two-toned, the exact color of chocolate and vanilla ice cream. “I’m quite serious about giving this car to you,” he said.
“Why, Scott? What do you want from me?”
“Now, don’t go thinking the worst of me. I really want to be your friend. And I want you to be mine.”
“Fine, I’m your friend. But you don’t have to give me a car. You’re not going to make me owe you anything.”
“How cynical you are. I don’t expect anything in return but your friendship. Let’s go over on Dyer Street.” Dyer Street was the northeast part of town, near the military bases.
“What’s over there?”
“You remember my friend, Regina,” he said, stressing the long “i” in the name. “She has a couple of nephews visiting from out of town I thought you might enjoy meeting. They’re just a bit older than you.”
A vague sense of disquiet crept up my spine. “Why do you want me to meet them?”
“Don’t be so suspicious. They’re her nephews from Chicago. She thought you might be able to show them around town, that’s all.”
“Scott, I really don’t think I could show anything of any interest to two guys from the big city. What could they possibly want to see around here?”
“One of ’em’s a big nature fan. He’s working on a master’s degree in biology. I thought you could take him out to the desert and kind of show it off to them.”
“No. I don’t want to do that. I don’t trust you, and I don’t think I like that Regina person.”
“Well, never mind then. Jeez, you’re such a prick sometimes. I only thought you’d have some fun, since you’re always raving about this godforsaken desert around here.”
Minutes passed with neither of us speaking when finally I screwed up the courage to ask Scott a question I’d been curious about since I saw him in the motel room, spying on the people next door.
“Scott?”
“Yes?”
“Um, well, oh, nothing.”
“Don’t start that. If you want to ask me something, do so. I won’t bite your head off.”
“Well, uh, since I saw you spying on the people in that other room, I was really wondering why you did it.”
“I guess I really do owe you, of all people, an explanation. Do you know what a voyeur is?”
“No, not really.”
“It’s someone who likes to watch.”
“Watch what?”
“You know, watch people taking their clothes off, that sort of thing. I suppose it really is a sickness, but I think it’s harmless. They never know I’m spying on them, so it’s not hurting anybody.”
“It’s not? Of course it hurts them. How would you like to be watched? I don’t suppose you’d be too happy if the tables were turned.”
“Well, now don’t be judgmental, but I like to be watched as well. In fact, I’ll tell you a secret.” But then he fell silent.
“Well? What’s this secret you’re going to tell me?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t at that. Here we are at Regina’s place, anyway. We can continue this later.”
He pulled the Mercedes into the driveway near a really gorgeous 1964 Thunderbird convertible. “Wow. You sure do know people with nice cars,” I said.
“Yeah, that is nice, isn’t it? Do you want it instead of the Mercedes?”
“Oh Jesus, Scott, I don’t want any car from you.”
“Just kidding, Jeez, you’re getting testy.”
“Scott, you scrumptious thing. Come on in,” Regina said from her doorway. At least I think it was Regina. The three-foot-high blond wig and the five-inch spiked heels were gone, replaced by a slightly portly man in a muumuu flapping about his legs. I later found out it was called a caftan.
“Ooh, and I see you brought that divine lad of yours. You’re making an old queen awfully envious, let me tell you.”
Turning to me as I exited the car, Regina asked, “What’s your name again, sweetheart? Old Regina has a pitiful memory for names. Gorgeous faces and other body parts she remembers, but names are another story.”
“It’s Aaron,” Scott said before I could open my mouth.
“That’s right. Hi, Aaron, it is just divine to see you again. Come on in.”
We entered the most overdecorated house I’d ever seen in my life. One wall was mirrored tiles, veined in gold. Another hosted a mural of a waterfall scene behind a red velvet Victorian sofa. Next to it was a glass-topped end table with a small version of Michelangelo’s statue of David, minus fig leaf. On the coffee table, also a ghastly glass-topped affair, were several pocket-sized magazines. On closer scrutiny I realized they were physique magazines. Tomorrow’s Man, or some such. My eyes must have become wide as saucers when I saw them, because Regina said, “Do you like my collection of fine literature?”
“Uh, I guess so. I’ve never seen them before.”
“Oh really? I’m surprised I’ve not seen you in one of them, darling. Oh, Scott, he is just too precious and innocent. Where did you find him again?”
I didn’t much like being talked about like a piece of meat. “I wasn’t lost, so Scott didn’t find me. I work at his motel.”
“Ooh, and he bites, too. Tell me, dear boy, what would you like to drink? I have wine, beer, hard liquor, although it’s a bit too early in the day for Regina to have anything other than a wee bit of sherry.”
“I don’t want anything, thank you,” I said as haughtily as I could.
“It’s all right,” Scott said to Regina. “We just came by to see your nephews, that’s all. To see if they might want to take a trip into the desert.”
“Oh, they’ll be sorry they missed you. They went out looking around Juarez. I’m afraid I don’t know when they’ll be back.”
“It was just an idea,” Scott said. “I wanted to go for a ride in Aaron’s new car, anyway. This was really just an excuse to do that.”
“Oh, Aaron, what are you going to do to thank Scott for your new car?” Regina leered at me.
I think I turned a dozen shades of red, as miraculously Scott jumped to my rescue. “I told you this morning he doesn’t owe me a thing. I really upset him last night and just want to square things with him.”
“Well, a Mercedes should do the trick, or should I say, turn the trick,” Regina said gleefully.
“Come on, Aaron. We’ll leave the queen mother to herself and her domain. See you later, Otto,” he said as we left.
“You’re determined to say this is my car, aren’t you?” I challenged him as we began the drive back to the motel.
“It is your car, sweetheart. I want you to have the best of everything.”
“I’m not your sweetheart, and I don’t want what you have to give. Get that straight.”
“I don’t think I can get anything straight,” he muttered under his breath, chuckling softly.
“What did you s
ay?”
“Uh, nothing.”
After a few moments’ silence, my curiosity got the better of me. “Scott, why do you call that guy Regina and refer to him as the queen?”
“His real name is Otto, but he’s been a drag queen for ages. I knew him back in Chicago when he was performing regularly.”
“What do you mean performing?”
“God, you really are naïve, aren’t you? Some men like to dress up as women and perform onstage at some nightclubs. Regina, or Otto, did that for many years, making a nice living at it. It’s not something all homosexual men do, but all of them at least appreciate the drag queens and see them as somewhat of an art form. Sadly, that’s the only image most of society has of…uh…us.”
“Oh come on, Scott. No need to be bashful now. I know you’re homosexual, you told me last night, remember? Do you dress up like a woman?”
“Oh no, I’ve never really been into that. I think I may have gone in drag once or twice on Halloween, but that’s about it. Besides, I refuse to shave off my mustache. No, not all homosexuals are drag queens. In fact, most of them are just like…”
“You?” I finished his sentence for him.
“Yeah. Like me,” he said very quietly, almost a whisper. I was stunned to see a tear trickle down his cheek, and I wanted to do something to comfort him, but had no idea what. So I sat silently.
“Oh, Aaron,” he said, placing his hand on my knee. “You just don’t know what it’s like. I hope you never become as jaded as me or Otto. I really like you and don’t want anything to hurt you.”
Feeling stunned by his hand on my knee, I was surprised at its warmth and the way it made me feel. Not wanting it to stay there too long, I shifted in my seat and said, “Miss LuLu told me you had a woman’s name, too. Señorita or something?”
“Dollie has a really big mouth, I must say. I didn’t choose that name. It’s a name given to me by a bunch of bitchy young drag queens at one of the bars downtown. They don’t like me because I don’t dress up in drag. They say I think I’m too good for them. I’m really uncomfortable around a lot of them here in El Paso.”