Russian River Rat

by Abramson, Mark

  “There’s something about a small town gay bar, you know? I guess you wouldn’t.” He took a long sip. “Jason took me to the Rainbow once a couple of years ago. Must have been on a weekend during the height of the resort season. Or a holiday. I don’t remember. But Nick and I went midweek and the place wasn’t crammed with tourists and city people. Let’s just say that small town gay bars have a charm all their own. They’re different from the bars in the Castro, that’s for sure—more like some of the bars south of Market or maybe the Tenderloin. The guys are grittier. More real.”

  “So that’s where Nick hangs out?”

  “I don’t think so. The bartender didn’t treat him like he was a regular, and he only knew a few of the other guys there. I don’t think Nick is much of a bar person.”

  “I like him more all the time.”

  “Weren’t you everybody’s favorite bartender on Castro Street this summer?”

  “Don’t change the subject. I want to hear about you and Nick.”

  Tim wasn’t sure how much she really wanted to know and how much of her asking was Midwestern politeness. “Besides all the time we spent in bed… he’s a lot of fun to be with.”

  “Sex isn’t everything.”

  “No, but it’s something. I mean, it’s really something. I love his long hair, and I love staring up into his eyes while my head is nestled in that spot above his hip bones and running my fingers through the soft blonde hairs on his stomach and his chest—”

  “I think we have a winner, here.”

  “—and I love the way he laughs and the way he makes me laugh.” Tim sighed. “He might be perfect, except for his ex…”

  “At nearly forty, the man’s entitled to a few exes. You certainly didn’t think you were Nick’s first boyfriend, did you?”

  “No, of course not…” Tim worried that his aunt might think less of Nick knowing that he dated someone who ended up a criminal.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “His ex. He’s in prison.”

  Aunt Ruth’s eyebrows rose. “For what?”

  “I’m not exactly sure. At first I thought he was joking.”

  “You don’t think Nick is in any kind of trouble, do you?”

  Tim shrugged. “I hope not. He seems almost too good to be true.”

  “Some fellows are, but I believe in princes,” said Aunt Ruth.

  “Do you need help unpacking anything?”

  “No, dear—not today—I have all the time in the world.” Ruth changed the subject. “I thought I’d go to Arts this evening and see what Arturo is cooking,” she said.

  “I’m working the dinner shift tonight and a double tomorrow, brunch and dinner.”

  “I’ve yet to go to the supermarket. Artie left me a basket of fresh fruit on the kitchen counter and some sandwiches and potato salad in the refrigerator. Wasn’t that sweet of him? Are you hungry?”

  “No thanks, I had a big breakfast with Nick, remember?”

  “In bed… how could I forget? You run along and thanks again for the flowers.”

  “Thank Nick.”

  “I will do that when I see him. Tell everyone at Arts that I’m back in town, and ask Arturo to save me something wonderful to eat. I’ll be starving for a good meal by then.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, Aunt Ruth.”

  “With bells on…”

  Tim was almost out the door when his aunt yelled, “Tim, do you happen to know where Forestville is? There’s a bridge near there, I believe.”

  “Sure. Well, sort of.” Tim stepped back into the kitchen. “I probably drove over it this morning. There are lots of little towns and bridges along the river. Why?”

  Ruth covered a yawn with her hand. “There was something in this morning’s Chronicle about a drowning…”

  “You’re not playing detective again,” Tim scolded. “Remember the fine mess you got us into last time you were in town.”

  “I did not,” she protested and gave him a peck on the cheek. “See you later, dear. Thanks for keeping up with the paper, by the way. I’ll switch the utility bills over to my name this week. I’m sure the dead body was no one we know, anyway…”

  Chapter 4

  Ruth dozed again after Tim left, and when she woke it was already dark outside. It might have been the middle of the night; she couldn’t read her watch without her glasses. She dangled her fingers on the floor beside the bed, searching for… shoes, yes, and her glasses inside one of them.

  “Aaah, it’s only seven. The days just get shorter and shorter this time of year, don’t they? They’ll still be serving dinner at Arts. I have plenty of time for a little soak in the tub.”

  In the months since her divorce, Ruth caught herself talking to no one. She worried senility might be setting in, despite her age. Thank goodness for the cat; she could always pretend she was talking to him. “Isn’t that right, Bartholomew? There’s plenty of time for a nice hot bath and then we’ll try to find something not too wrinkled to wear to dinner.”

  The cat opened one lazy eye at the sound of her voice, jumped from the bed onto the floor and ambled down the hallway toward the kitchen and his water dish.

  Ruth knew it would take time for her body’s internal clock to adjust, not only to the change in time zones but the lack of sleep. On the last leg of her long drive she had only stopped to buy gas, use the rest room, and fuel her body with more coffee. Bartholomew’s litter box had made the entire trip on the floor in the back seat. Now it was in the corner of the patio under an enormous planter of impatiens. She followed after the cat and opened the back door for him. “One of these days, Bart, we’re going to ask Arturo about installing your own little flap to get in and out of here all by yourself, aren’t we?”

  From the sidewalk on Castro Street, Ruth peeked in Art’s front window and saw every table filled. She spotted a waiter she didn’t recognize, who could only be James, whom Teresa had mentioned. There was also someone new behind the bar, a slim young man with broad shoulders, reddish crew-cut and dimples. A couple of guys left their barstools, slipping into their leather jackets. No one appeared to be waiting for their seats, so Ruth opened the front door and headed in that direction.

  Artie was just coming out of the men’s room when he spotted her. “Ruth Taylor is in the house!” Everyone in the restaurant must have heard him; they all turned and stared at her. Artie came running toward her now, and Arturo stepped out of the kitchen and started clapping. Enough customers recognized her from bartending shifts last summer that they joined in and pretty soon total strangers added to the applause. Ruth felt her face turn red, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Thank you so much. Thank you everyone. It’s just great to be back, but please sit down. Please! Thank you so much!”

  Arturo and Artie crowded to either side of her with hugs and kisses while people settled back to their dinners. “Welcome home, Ruth,” Artie told her, then turned to the redhead behind the bar and said, “Scott, fix the lady a drink and put it on my tab. What will it be, Ruth? Goodness, you haven’t even met Scott yet. Isn’t he a doll? Scott, this is our beloved Ruth Taylor.”

  “How do you do, Scott?” Ruth shook hands with the young man.

  “I know what she wants,” Artie said. “Make her a Bombay martini straight up with olives and you might as well make me one too, while you’re at it… and then you’re fired! With Ruth back in town, we won’t need you anymore.”

  Ruth dabbed at her eyes with a cocktail napkin. “Don’t worry, Scott. I’m sure Artie’s only kidding about your being fired.”

  “I hope so.” Scott’s dimples deepened when he smiled. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Miss Taylor, and if it’s all true I’ll be lucky to have any shifts here at all when you take over.”

  “Take over? I wouldn’t worry about that, my dear, and please call me Ruth.”

  “Tim told us you were coming in to dinner, Ruth,” Arturo said, “and we couldn’t be happier. We had Maine lobsters flown in today. I saved one for you if you want it.
Otherwise there’s fresh poached salmon with hollandaise sauce or stuffed pork chops. I have to get back to the kitchen, so how do you feel about that lobster? Do you want me to hold it for you?”

  “Arturo, it sounds delicious, and I’m sure it is, but I think I’d prefer the salmon,” she said. “We get lobster flown into Minnesota, too, and I can get pork chops anywhere. I know your sage stuffing is something special, but I haven’t had fresh salmon in ages.”

  “Salmon it is, then!” Arturo rubbed Ruth’s shoulder. “Excuse me while I get back to work.”

  She sat down at one of the two vacant bar stools and noticed that Scott was busy too, taking care of the entire bar by himself plus making drinks for the waiters. ”It’s good to see the place so busy, Artie.”

  “Yes it is,” Artie said, starting to sit down beside her. “I’d love to join you, but I’d better get back to work too, unless you want to jump right in?”

  “Not on my first night back in town.” Ruth laughed. “And not when there’s fresh salmon on the menu. You go ahead and get back there, Artie. I’ll be fine.” Other customers were already lined up to shake her hand or give her a peck on the cheek and welcome her back. She took a sip of her martini, dabbed at her eyes once more and relaxed. Even though she was embarrassed by all the fuss, she really was glad to be back at Arts, back in San Francisco, and especially to be near her nephew again.

  With Artie behind the bar things were back to normal in no time. Ruth gazed around the room and noticed several faces she knew. As she smiled at customers she recognized they gave her a wave and shout, “Good to see you.” Then she noticed a banner strung across the back of the room that said ‘WELCOME BACK RUTH’ surrounded by balloons and rainbow flags. “Artie!” she yelled. “I just saw the sign. You shouldn’t have!”

  “Why not?” Artie topped off her martini from a silver cocktail shaker and added the rest to his own drink. “We would have hired the gay marching band, but they were already booked for tonight.”

  Ruth laughed and started getting misty again. She caught Scott’s eye when he made change for the customer beside her and said to him, “I had no idea they were planning anything like this. Did you?”

  “They’ve talked about you ever since I started working here, but Arturo put the sign up just before the dinner rush started.”

  More customers came by to give Ruth a hug. She knew most of their names, and when she didn’t, she called them by what they drank. “Oh, JB water with a twist, right? How are you? Daniel—that’s right, forgive me—how’s your mother getting along after her surgery?”

  Then she noticed a dark-haired man alone at a table in the corner nearest the kitchen. There was something so familiar about him; Ruth was sure she must have seen him before. He wore a dark suit with a bow tie and he was exceptionally handsome. No, not a suit but a tuxedo.

  Scott returned to her end of the bar to ask, “Are you about ready for another martini there, ma’am?”

  “No thank you. Artie already topped me off. Two can be dangerous, especially on an empty stomach. I’ll probably have a glass of wine with dinner later.”

  “Bombay martinis are big tonight. They must be ordering them in your honor. At least I can offer you what’s left in the shaker,” Scott said, pouring until her empty stemmed glass was half-full again. “It’s just getting watered down, anyway.”

  “Thank you.” Scott was not only cute, but he was charming, too. “Scott, may I ask you something?

  “Sure.” He smiled. “What would you like to know, Miss Taylor. I mean, Ruth?”

  “Do you know who that handsome man is?” She pointed discretely at the fellow sitting alone. “See the one I mean? He’s in a tuxedo eating dinner all by himself over there in the corner?”

  “Sure, that’s Phil.”

  “Phil?” Ruth thought hard, but the name didn’t ring a bell, despite his familiar face. As he moved his knife and fork she could tell that his muscles were firm and taut under his expensive clothing.

  “Phil’s the piano player. He’s on his dinner break right now. He started work at five. I would have thought you’d have known him from when you were here before.”

  “No, there was a woman named Vivian who played the piano here then.”

  “Well, he’s pretty well-known around here.” Scott wiped down the bar. “He has quite a following; for some reason the bear crowd seems to love him. Or maybe they just come in for Arturo’s hearty portions.”

  Scott’s mention of bears reminded Ruth of Teresa’s ex-husband Leonardo, and she finally recalled where she’d seen Phil. One night this past summer, when Ruth was behind the bar, Leonardo and his new husband, Theodore, had been showing her pictures of where they’d met. Some event that featured wild animals… what was it they called that? “Scott, what’s that big function they have every year at the Russian River? It’s something like ‘cowardly lions’ or ‘lazy leopards,’ but those aren’t right. Browsing bears? Burrowing bears?”

  He chuckled. “You must mean Lazy Bear Weekend.”

  “That’s it.” It had been Lazy Bear Weekend when Leonardo had met Theodore. Ruth had seen pictures of Phil, as the naked piano player at their elaborate dinner party in a campground.

  Ruth finished off her martini. “I saw pictures of Phil from someone’s trip to Lazy Bear Weekend at the river.” She chewed an olive. “Maybe you know Theodore—”

  “Oh sure. And Leo-nar-do,” Scott stretched out the name. Ruth laughed. So she wasn’t the only one who thought the couple a bit pretentious.

  “Phil is quite the hustler.” Scott said. “I’m surprised he has time to do this restaurant gig, but he sure packs them in. His tips must be phenomenal.”

  “So he’s a real go-getter?”

  “No, Ruth.” Scott picked up a newspaper someone had left on the bar—the Bay Area Reporter, Ruth saw—and started leafing through it. “See, this is his ad. He’s a different sort of hustler.” He pointed to what she first thought was the crowded Want Ads section, but then she saw several photos of almost nude men.

  “My goodness. How do you know this is Phil’s picture? This photograph doesn’t even show his face.”

  “It’s common knowledge,” Scott said. “Besides, I was at a party once where he was the hired entertainment. He does a lot of that sort of thing. That’s his picture, all right.”

  Ruth had always thought so many of the gay men in the Castro must read the B.A.R. for the columnists like Friedman, Marcus, and Donna Sachet.

  Scott leaned in close to Ruth’s cheek. “Honestly, I think he likes working here because of your nephew.”

  Ruth stared at Phil, who had finished eating, and was heading back to the piano bench. As he did, he walked behind her nephew and purposely bumped up against him. Tim nearly dropped the tray of empty glasses he was carrying back to the bar. Ruth noticed a flash of fury play across her nephew’s face before he forced a smile.

  Now that summer evening’s conversation came back to her.

  Jake looked at the album over Theodore’s shoulder and nodded. “I know that guy. He played here for a couple of weeks when Viv was on her honeymoon with the cowboy. He’s really hot! It’s too bad he didn’t play naked here! It would have packed the place.”

  “He wasn’t totally naked,” Theodore argued. “He had on a collar and bow tie and cuffs with gold cufflinks and black dress shoes and socks with those old-fashioned garters men use to wear in the 40’s.”

  “That’s right, but he took all that off afterward,” Leonardo said. “For dessert they popped the champagne corks and everyone gathered around to lick whipped cream and fresh strawberries right off the pianist!”

  “Would you like to eat here at the bar?” Scott asked. Ruth looked down at the newspaper ad in front of her. Hot, Hung & Horny. Italian/German. Strictly Top. Outcalls only. Into most scenes ~ Just Ask. Available Afternoons/ Late Nights.

  “No thank you, Scott,” Ruth said. “As much as I enjoy your company, I believe that table in the back corner is empty now
. That is Tim’s section, isn’t it? I’d hate to be responsible for congesting the bar. And I think I’d like to have dinner near the piano. That way I can hear the music and keep an eye on everything that’s going on.”

  Chapter 5

  Tim lay in a hospital bed. He opened his eyes and noticed the overpowering scent of flowers. Then he heard Jason whispering to him, “Lie still. Don’t move or they’ll catch on.”

  Tim forced his eyes to look to the left as far as he could without moving his head. The flower arrangement he’d brought to his Aunt Ruth stood among dozens of others on tables, platforms and funeral biers all around them. Tim heard voices and closed his eyes before the people moved close enough to stare down at him.

  He realized then that he was sharing a coffin, not a bed, with Jason beside him. That made sense, since Jason was dead. Still, Tim had never seen a double-wide coffin before. Perhaps they made them for really fat people. There was a program the other night on the Discovery Channel about a guy who hadn’t left his house in years because he couldn’t fit through the door. Or was he too heavy for his legs to carry him anymore? Maybe that was it. Tim wasn’t sure.

  Tim was about to ask Jason whether he’d seen the television show, but now they were seated in the red Thunderbird, Tim behind the wheel, Jason in the passenger seat. Jason was yelling, “Tim, pull over! It isn’t safe. Don’t drive! Don’t drive anymore until it’s safe. You’re gonna get hurt if you do. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

  Tim stopped and began to parallel park on 18th Street between two liquor trucks delivering cases of booze to the Badlands and Harvey’s. “Why are you stopping here?” The voice was different but still familiar. Tim turned and saw that Nick had taken Jason’s place in the passenger seat. “I thought you wanted to go to Safeway. You know it’ll cost twice as much at Delano’s.”

  “I don’t care,” Tim said. “I’m tired of driving.” He didn’t know what they were planning to buy, and it didn’t matter. He wasn’t hungry anyway. Then he thought of the right words to say to make the problem go away, the magic words that must have solved a million arguments in all sorts of relationships. “Let’s go out to dinner instead. I’ll buy.”