Tallulah Bankhead Slept Here

by Sam Lollar

  “Could you be saying that you love me, perhaps?”

  “It sure seems like it, doesn’t it?”

  “Can you say it, then?”

  “Rick, I…I can’t say it. I’m too frightened. That word is so loaded with emotional baggage that I don’t want to say it out loud for fear that something awful will happen if I do.”

  “How can you sound so wise, Aaron? You’ve never been in this situation before. Are you sure I’m the first man you’ve been with?”

  “Yes, of course. I don’t know. My parents made me grow up really fast. I didn’t get a lot of support from them when I was young. I guess they formed my personality. And, of course, I told Pat how much I loved her and now I don’t even see her anymore.”

  “Well, sure, of course. But I’m usually the one saying to go slow. This time, the situation is reversed. And you know something?”

  “What?”

  “That’s part of why I love you so much. You’re so bright and insightful. I can only imagine how far your talents will take you. I want to be a part of that, of your future.”

  “Well, thanks. Maybe I’m too smart for my own good sometimes.”

  “So. Where does that leave us tonight?”

  “Right back where we started, I guess. However, I do want to see you before we leave.”

  “When are you out of class tomorrow? Why not then?”

  “I’m scheduled to work tomorrow afternoon, Rick. Believe it or not, I really do have a job here.”

  “Oh, I know it, but Scott’s such a romantic, I think he’d let you off for the day.”

  “Actually, that’s where you’re wrong, Rick. He has warned me not to get caught up in your web.”

  “Well, that little turd. Just wait till I see him in my bar next. I’ll push him out so quickly he won’t know what hit him. And I’ll tell him what I think of his Dear Abby routine.”

  “There’s no need to be mad at him, Rick. He has my best interests at heart.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He still wants to get into your pants. Everyone at the bar knows it. Once when he was down there and had a few, he started to spill his guts to whoever was around. I am probably more aware of his feelings for you than you are.”

  “I think Scott and I have come to an agreement. I really don’t think he wants me as much as he says he does. It’s become a kind of game of flirtations for us.”

  “Oh, nonsense, Aaron. The guy’s hot as hell for you and would do anything to get you for himself. Don’t be so dumb.”

  We continued this verbal volleyball for a bit longer. Finally, out of desperation, I agreed to ask Scott if I could spend time with Rick the next day. Scott reluctantly agreed to let me go.

  Our tête-à-tête was really quite wonderful. We went walking around Rick’s neighborhood, oohing and ahhing over the gorgeous homes and cars. I refused to let him hold my hand, as he tried to do a couple of times. Along about evening, we went back to his place, where he fixed a wonderful dinner. He was a really great cook. I was looking at myself from a distance and wondering what I would do when he asked me to stay the night. He did ask, and I accepted. I had been wanting to sleep with him for so long, I was unable to refuse. Our night was even more wonderful than the first time. We went slowly and languidly. We made love on the floor of his bedroom next to the patio doors, so the light from the pool cast our bodies in a deep blue. I felt like I was floating out of my body, and loved the sensation.

  All too quickly, the morning came and he took me back to the motel to get ready for class. Of course, I saw Rick every night until we left for California.

  Happily, Scott replaced “my” Mercedes with the insurance money. This time it was a black 1966 230 SL. Really pretty. He even got the title transferred to my name again.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  The Lincoln or the Rolls?

  Rick brought me back to the motel about eight on the morning we were to leave for California, and he stayed to help load the car and to say good-bye. No sooner had I walked into the lobby where everyone had congregated than I was caught in a barrage of arguments. The women wanted to take the Rolls, but Scott was adamant about taking the Lincoln. “The Lincoln has more room than the Rolls. We’ll be crammed in like sardines.”

  *

  “Granddad, is that true? Does a Lincoln have more room than a Rolls? I always thought that Rolls-Royces were the biggest thing out there.”

  “There were some long wheelbase Rolls that had more room than a Lincoln, but that Silver Cloud was not one of them. That Lincoln was huge. If we come across one when we’re out at a car show, I’ll show you just how much you could stretch out in the backseat.”

  *

  “But the Rolls is so much more comfortable.”

  “Not when you consider how crowded we’d be.”

  “Okay, here comes Aaron,” Miss Ruby said. “We’ll let him decide. Aaron, which car would you rather go in? The Rolls or the Lincoln?”

  “The Rolls!”

  Scott was not happy. “You’ll be sorry about this in about a hundred miles,” he warned. “But I won’t say ‘I told you so.’”

  “Sure you will, Scott,” Mrs. S said. “You’re notorious for saying that.”

  Still grumbling, Scott brought Mrs. Schuster’s luggage to Miss Ruby’s room where the Rolls was parked. We were limited to one suitcase each. We were just about to cram ourselves in the obviously too small interior of the sedan when we heard the phone ringing in Miss Ruby’s room. Bob had transferred a call for Mrs. S.

  As she picked up the phone, we could all tell it was something important. The inspection team from the Best Western chain, which the Rancho wanted to join, was going to be there in the next several days. Either she or Scott would have to stay behind and take care of matters. Finally, Mrs. S shook her head and hung up the phone. “Well, it looks like I’m not going to California after all. Someone’s got to stay here to take charge, so I guess I’m it.”

  “Dollie, I could do it,” Scott said, none too convincingly.

  “No, sweetheart, you go on, I’ll hold the fort till you all get back.”

  “But couldn’t Bob handle things?” Miss LuLu asked.

  “I’m afraid not. This is something that the owner needs to do. Actually, I would be uncomfortable thinking someone was looking my motel over and I wasn’t here. If we don’t pass inspection, we’ll never get a Best Western affiliation.”

  So we were down to four travelers. Although Scott looked genuinely disappointed his mom wasn’t going with us, he seemed to brighten up when he noted we’d all have more room. He removed Mrs. Schuster’s luggage and took it back to her suite.

  We hit the road about ten o’clock, a rather late start, I thought.

  If they wanted to get to L.A. that same day, I figured we’d be doing some high-speed driving, and I wasn’t wrong. Scott drove the first shift, and after having lunch in Lordsburg, we hit Tucson about four that afternoon. The drive was actually quite comfortable. Scott and I were in the front seat, while Miss LuLu and Miss Ruby were in the back. They chatted like magpies, while Scott and I variously discussed my relationship with Rick and his background growing up in Chicago. The time actually flew by just like the miles, and around midnight, we were in Los Angeles, a first trip for me.

  “Where do you want to stop for the night?” Scott asked as we headed into L.A.

  “Well, we’ve come this far. Let’s just go on to my house,” Miss Ruby said. “I have tons of room for everyone.”

  Our drive continued another hour until we arrived at her place in Bel Air around one in the morning. The house was spectacular. It had nine bedrooms plus a guest cottage that would be a three-bedroom home anywhere else. Scott and I took the cottage, and the two women went into the main house. The rear of the larger house and the front of the cottage faced the large patio and courtyard. A large pool separated the entrances of the two houses. Lush vegetation surrounded everything.

  I was amazed how many things grew in her yard, but I f
ound out later pretty much everyone’s yard looked the same in L.A. Coming from the West Texas desert, any bit of greenery caught my eye, and I was simply agog over the tropicalness of the place. Scott and I were in separate bedrooms, but both got up around eight thirty the next morning. We wandered over to the main house and saw Miss LuLu and Miss Ruby sitting on the verandah near the pool, having breakfast.

  “Oh, good. You boys are up. I’m sure you were just exhausted after doing all that driving,” Miss LuLu said.

  “Actually not,” Scott said. “The Rolls is so easy to drive that it just wasn’t that tiring.”

  “Well, I’m glad of that,” Miss Ruby said. “When I drove the whole way last month, I was just a little bit on the weary side. Anyway, let me get Maria to get you both some breakfast. Maria…” she yelled into the house.

  “Sí, señora?” Maria said, entering the verandah.

  “Be a dear and get these two gentlemen some breakfast. What do you guys want, anyway?”

  “Nothing heavy for me,” Scott said. “Maybe just a grapefruit and some sweet rolls?”

  “That sounds excellent. I’ll have the same.”

  “And get me some coffee, quick,” Scott said. Since I didn’t drink coffee, it didn’t matter to me. I was glad to have the orange juice to drink. I was surprised when Miss Ruby told me the orange juice was from her own fruit trees. Sunny California.

  We all were quite content after eating. Miss Ruby asked us what we wanted to do during the day, and Scott said he was taking me to the beach in Venice. I, of course, thought Venice was in Italy, but they told me it was a failed housing development from the thirties or forties. Someone wanted to build a lot of canals connecting the individual homes or some such. Miss LuLu said she was going to see her lawyer while she was in town and begged Miss Ruby to accompany her. As they were taking the Rolls, Scott and I were on foot, or so we thought.

  “How are we going to do this?” Scott said. “There’s only the one Rolls.”

  Miss Ruby smiled. “Nonsense, dear. There’s at least six cars in the garage you can help yourself to. I already told my mechanic that you would be taking one out for the two weeks you’re here. He’s expecting you.”

  “Well, come on, Aaron. The day’s slipping away from us. Let’s get to the beach,” Scott said.

  In addition to the four new cars that Miss Ruby had in the garage, she owned two collector cars—a Duesenberg from the 1920s and a Lincoln K model from around 1932. We wanted to drive one of those, but the mechanic said no. “These are hundred point show cars, gentlemen. No one actually drives them.”

  *

  “Guys, I’ve always wished I had taken pictures of those two cars. I know a similar Duesenberg went for over a million bucks at an auction last year, and that Lincoln hit over eight hundred grand recently. They were phenomenal. I’ve always wondered what happened to them. They were gorgeous.”

  *

  Only slightly disappointed, we opted to take the new 1967 Corvette Stingray parked next to the old Lincoln K. I loved that Corvette. It was white, and it was gorgeous. After lounging about the house for a while, we got in the Corvette and drove off to Venice Beach. We were pretty lucky to find parking. Scott said the place was generally jammed. I soon found out why Scott wanted to take me to Venice Beach, as it was a spot where bodybuilders worked out on the beach.

  “These guys are fantastic,” Scott said as we approached the weightlifting area.

  And indeed they were, with big rippling muscles like I used to look at in the physique magazines. But we didn’t just watch the guys. I actually went swimming in the ocean for the first time, and was it an experience. Seaweed all over me. I think I swallowed a gallon of seawater, truly an awful taste. I surprised myself when I actually felt comfortable in my swim trunks and no shirt. That was a new feeling. We walked along the boardwalk and peeked into the shops. In the late afternoon, we headed back to the car and began the drive back to Miss Ruby’s place. I was impressed Scott knew his way around. I would have been lost within five minutes.

  Since both of us were grungy from our day at the beach, we decided to take showers before heading out to dinner. I was surprised to see a whole wardrobe hanging in my closet at the guesthouse. Apparently, the ladies had decided I needed some new duds and went on a shopping spree.

  “We hope these things fit, Aaron,” Miss LuLu said. “We had to guess at your sizes, but the salesman was very helpful.”

  And very queer, I thought from the looks of the clothes. They were all a bit too revealing for my taste, but Scott loved them. He encouraged me to wear a new outfit every day of our holiday.

  The four of us went out on the town that first night, and we covered a lot of territory. We ate at a famous restaurant and then went dancing at a nightclub. The manager allowed me in without incident. I think the beard made me look older. The four of us danced for what seemed like hours, but we were back at Miss Ruby’s house by midnight. I, for one, was exhausted. We had been running around all day, and I was beat, especially after the dancing. I was about to head straight to bed, but I noticed the ladies and Scott sitting on the verandah, sipping something cool.

  “Hey, Aaron. Go put a suit on. Let’s get in the water.”

  Despite my tiredness, I had to admit that the pool was inviting. I put some trunks on and came out with a big towel wrapped around me. Scott had also changed, so we jumped in the pool, splashing the women, who screamed at us to stop. After a bit of horseplay involving more splashing, I finally just floated on my back, one of my favorite things to do in a pool on a beautiful evening. The water was lovely.

  The next day, Scott showed me the sights: Chinatown, Little Italy, Olvera Street, Farmer’s Market. It was a regular cultural smorgasbord. I think he was also determined to do something gay every day of our trip, because in the afternoon, we stopped at a bar that had its entrance in the back of a rather dingy building, in a very dingy neighborhood. “This is the hottest bar in town, Aaron.”

  “It looks like a dump, Scott. Do you really want to go in there?”

  “Sure, it’s okay. Come on. You’ll see some really great-looking guys in there.”

  “At this hour of the day? I wouldn’t think many people would go to a bar right now.”

  “Well, we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

  He ushered me down the alleyway into a nondescript doorway that had no sign or other distinctive characteristics except a large floodlight perched above illuminating a Greek symbol on the door. The place didn’t look promising to me, but we went in anyway. To my surprise, the place was crowded. It wasn’t standing room only by any means, but it was filled with a lot of men. Most of them looked like toads who escaped from their lily pads. But I saw some good-looking men as well. Again, all eyes were on Scott and me as we went in. I told Scott that we must be a good-looking couple of guys since everyone was looking at us.

  “Well, I’m sure that’s partly true, Aaron, but everyone watches the door to see who comes in. It’s a part of cruising.”

  “What on earth is cruising?”

  “Oh, that’s just what we call looking at other guys. It’s just like ogling the chicks, except we do it to men. It’s harmless unless you get caught cruising a straight man. He might not be too happy about it.”

  “Oh, my. There seems to be a lot about this I don’t know about.”

  “Yes. Sometimes I’m amazed at how bright and insightful you are, and other times I swear you’re the dumbest man alive. But I guess if you’ve never been exposed to the lingo of the gay scene, then you’re unlikely to understand it.”

  “You’ll be happy to know that Rick said the same thing. I don’t think I’m all that bright and insightful, as you put it, but I’m afraid I am pretty dumb sometimes.”

  No sooner had we gotten up to the bar to order a beverage than men started coming over and talking to either Scott or me or both of us together. I was delighted at how friendly everyone was. I also tried to remind myself that, as Scott had noted, it was p
robably just because we were fresh meat.

  We enjoyed our drinks. I had decided not to drink alcohol while on the trip for fear of succumbing to Scott’s charms. And since he was driving, Scott had only one beer. At about four, we headed out. Everyone else on earth decided to do the same thing, because the traffic was unlike anything I had ever seen in my life. We were stuck in rush hour. As we had the top down on the Corvette, I was enjoying what little breeze there was. Another Corvette convertible drove up when we were stuck at a red light on Hollywood Boulevard. The driver looked over at me and commented on how great our car was. I was similarly complimentary to him about his car. “You have the most beautiful eyes I think I’ve ever seen before,” he said to me. “My name’s Mark, and I would love to see you again.”

  I was stunned, but Scott took over. “We’re only here in L.A. for a couple of weeks but would love to get together with you sometime.”

  “Great. Give me your number, and I’ll give you a call.”

  “Actually, we’re staying with a friend. To tell you the truth, I don’t know the phone number.”

  “Let me give you mine, then.” And he handed us a business card for “Mark,” followed by the number. “Call me soon, will you?”

  Just then the traffic began moving, and we were separated by several cars. “Well, how do you like that?” Scott said. “That has never happened to me.”

  “It hasn’t happened to me, either. I’m surprised you’re so willing to see him again.”

  “Didn’t you recognize him?”

  “No, should I have?”

  “He’s on TV, Aaron. Everyone I know has been guessing if he was ‘a friend of Dorothy’s’ or not. I guess we can answer that, now, can’t we.”

  “‘A friend of Dorothy’s?’ What does that mean?”