“Okay.”
“We can stop and have a drink at the Edge first. How’s that sound?”
Tim didn’t recognize the restaurant, but they had a window table with a votive candle between them, nearly melted away. The table rocked from side to side, and Tim realized they were on a boat in San Francisco Bay. Tables around them held other diners, other candles. Some were people Tim knew, customers at Arts, guys he saw at the gym, on Castro sidewalks, with their dogs in Dolores Park. He heard his Aunt Ruth laughing nearby, but he couldn’t see her. The boat was sailing on the far side of Alcatraz. A lighthouse beacon swept over them slowly as they headed north toward the dark silhouette of Angel Island. The light was so faint that Tim could only make out Nick’s smiling face across from him and Nick’s hands on the table, one on either side of the flickering candle holding Tim’s hands and caressing each of his fingers.
Though the dream ended on a happy note, when Tim woke his heart raced with a panicked beat. He hadn’t had a dream of Jason in ages… not since his late boyfriend had warned Tim that his killer needed to be stopped before more men were killed. Tim had been having such dreams since he was a little boy when his psychic grandmother died, and they didn’t always come true. Some dreams were just dreams. He could usually tell the difference between premonition and fantasy, nightmare and nocturnal emission. A cold prickle of longing and fear crept up his spine.
Thanks a lot, Jason. You could at least stick around long enough to explain.
Tim reached across the bed for Nick, but then he remembered he was in his own bed, and Nick was at the river. It was almost four in the morning, and he fell back to sleep.
The next time Tim looked at the clock he groaned. 8:30 a.m. He had to work a double at Arts today, and didn’t need the dream haunting him.
Did Jason mean that something was wrong with the Thunderbird? Tim had already replaced the muffler, and that hadn’t been unsafe, just noisy. What else would he drive? Sometimes Arturo asked one of the employees to make a Costco run, but Arturo had just bought a brand new car, so that couldn’t be it. Maybe Nick’s truck wasn’t safe? But why would Jason warn him about that? Tim had never been behind the wheel of Nick’s truck.
Tim reached toward the messy pile of money on the dresser, his tips from Saturday night. He’d been thinking about buying a king-size bed. It would be perfect for when Nick was in town. He counted over two-hundred dollars. “I should put some really good sheets on my shopping list, too.”
The dream grew more distant as Tim turned the shower knobs and steam filled the bathroom. He thought about Nick as he soaped up. A cold shower might have been a better idea.
While Tim pulled on his shorts and socks, the clock in the bedroom jumped to 8:50. Nick was planning to work today, wasn’t he? Tim thought he should be up and getting ready by now. He punched in the number in Monte Rio, and it rang six times with no answer. Maybe he’d already left for the nursery. Tim was just about to hang up when he heard Nick’s voice. “Hello.”
“Hey, stud,” Tim said. “Did I wake you?”
“Snowman.” Nick used Tim’s favorite nickname. “I was just in the shower. Thinking of you.”
“Same here… I just got out.”
“Great! Are you still naked or am I supposed to ask what you’re wearing? This is an obscene phone call, right?”
“Oh, that might be fun but I’d rather have the real thing. Besides, I have to leave for work in a minute.”
“That’s right, poor baby… you’ve got to pull a double today. How was last night? Did your Aunt Ruth get in?”
“Yeah, she arrived a day early. She was so excited to get here she drove straight through from Salt Lake City. She went nuts over the flowers—said to say thank you. Last night the restaurant was packed when she came in, and everyone gave her a standing ovation.”
“Nice.”
“She acted embarrassed, but I know she loved it. We stayed busy all night, and I made over two-hundred bucks in tips. I’ve been thinking about shopping for a new bed.”
“That sounds like fun. Can I come along, and we’ll test drive a few?”
“You’d better believe it! Maybe we could try to get 86’d from Macy’s furniture department.”
“I doubt it.” Nick laughed. “The last time I was there the salesman was cruising me so hard! If he’s still working there, I’ll bet we could get naked and go at it and he’d just wanna watch.”
“Or join in!” Tim laughed. “How’s the nursery? Did you get caught up yet after playing hooky with me all last week?”
“Not quite, Snowman. I’m heading over there as soon as I get dressed. Jen’s got the day off, and Kent is down with some bug.”
“Kent?” Tim fought back a pang of insecurity at the sound of another man’s name. Then he mentally kicked himself for it.
“One of my employees. You’ll meet him.”
“Uh-huh.” Tim felt stupid for the way his stomach was acting all jumpy. “Well, I just thought I’d give a call.”
“I’m glad you did. I miss you too. Hey, I just remembered, I might not be able to come down this weekend.”
“What do you mean? Work?” Now Tim felt physically ill.
“No, it’s my cousin Nate from New Orleans. I haven’t seen him since we were kids. He wrote me a letter, but it got mixed in with a pile of bills and invoices at the office.”
“Yeah?”
“I hope I haven’t thrown off any plans.”
“Plans? What plans? Saturday night in the Castro?” Tim was determined to pretend that Nick’s not coming down was no big deal. “If I wasn’t working I’d just be home watching Lawrence Welk on PBS. I think they’re doing their big patriotic special this weekend—the Lennon Sisters in red, white and blue sequins with hooker hair singing the Battle Hymn of the Republic and Jo Ann Castle doing a Dixieland version of Yankee Doodle Dandy on the piano.”
“It sounds like you’ve already seen it.” Nick laughed again. “Is it a rerun?”
“Yeah, Nick, they all are.” Tim thought it was just like Nick not to know that Lawrence Welk had been dead for years.
“Well, anyway… I just found Nate’s letter, and I don’t know what he wants, but he wrote that he was driving across country, and he plans to stop and see me. He should have been here by now. Maybe he had car trouble.”
Car trouble. Tim felt a chill. Jason’s warning. “Nick, that reminds me of something; you haven’t had any trouble with your truck lately, have you?”
“No, why?”
“Just a silly dream I had…” Maybe someday he’d sit Nick down, and they’d have a long talk about Tim’s psychic affliction and hope that Nick didn’t run for the hills. But not now, not over the phone.
“Well, I’ll try to call you, but I’ll probably be busy with Nate this weekend, maybe take a drive or something, show him around the wine country. There’ve been a lot of changes since we were kids. You take care and say hi to your Aunt Ruth for me. I’m glad she liked the flowers.”
“Couldn’t you bring him down?” Tim scrambled for a reprieve from this bad news, a last gasp attempt to see Nick sooner. “Won’t your cousin want to see San Francisco? One of the spare rooms is still full of boxes, but I could fix up a bed for him in the smaller bedroom…”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think he’d like the city at all. I haven’t seen him in years, but he’s as straight as they come. N.O.P.D.”
“A cop?”
“Narcotics.”
Tim considered his stash of pot. Maybe it was for the best. “I’d better get to work.”
“Me too, Snowman. Are you sure we couldn’t turn this into one of those phone calls? I’m still picturing you naked.”
“I’m wearing white jockey shorts and black socks, okay? But I can’t go to work like this, and I’m gonna be late if I don’t…”
“Okay, okay, just leave me with that image. White jockey shorts and… are they cotton or synthetic?”
“The shorts?”
“N
o, the socks.”
“They’re burlap, okay? Geez, what a pervert!”
Nick laughed. “I can’t wait to see you, Tim. Work hard. Make big tips. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Tim tried to smile as he hung up the phone, but he felt awful. Here he was in San Francisco, home of one of the largest populations of gay men in the world. He was living in the heart of the Castro district, and he had to get involved with someone nearly two hours away. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
He reached into the dresser for a t-shirt. The first one he grabbed—WARNING! ~ NEXT MOOD SWING ~ 5 MINUTES!—was an old one Jason had given him as a gag gift one year for his birthday. Tim dropped it back in the drawer like it was burning his fingers and found a plain white one. Tomorrow he would do a load of laundry. That shirt reminded him that if Jason were here right now he’d probably tell Tim to “stop acting like a girl and grow up.” Tim finished getting dressed, grabbed the kitchen trash and left by way of the back door.
The back stairs was where he’d first laid eyes on Nick: a pair of muscular legs coming down the steps, legs so tanned that the hair was sun-bleached white against hard brown calves. Nick was carrying a cardboard box with his grandmother’s old typewriter on top of it. What a great day that turned out to be.
Now Tim heard another voice as he rounded the back of the house. Sarah was on the bench beside the driveway, singing a lullaby to her Raggedy Ann doll. “Uncle Tim, Uncle Tim!” The doll she had been cradling so gently one minute was on its head in the dirt the next. “Daddy told me you were home. I missed you.”
“It’s the Magic Child!” Tim sat down on the bench and let her jump up into his arms. “I missed you too, Sarah. If anyone can cheer me up, it’s you.”
“Why are you sad?”
“I’m not really sad, honey. Just a little disappointed, that’s all.”
“Auntie Ruth, Auntie Ruth!” Sarah leapt from Tim’s lap and bolted down the driveway. Tim looked up to see his aunt coming down the block. She was dressed in blue sweats and white sneakers. Sarah leapt into an embrace. “Uncle Tim is sad, and I’m trying to cheer him up, but now you’re here too so you can help me.”
Ruth kissed her on the cheek and set her back down. “You’ve grown a foot since I’ve been gone. Why is Uncle Tim sad, Sarah?” His aunt looked up at him. “What’s wrong, Tim?”
“Nothing, really, I just got off the phone with Nick, and he can’t come down this weekend. What are you up to?”
“I came out for a walk on such a lovely morning and thought if I timed things right I might be able to accompany my favorite nephew when he heads to work on Castro Street.”
Before Tim could respond, Sarah jumped up again and yelled, “Grandpa!” A late-model cobalt blue Jaguar turned into the driveway, and a handsome gentleman stepped out of the car. Again the little girl ran to someone who smothered her with kisses.
“Hello, my little angel,” the man said, laughing. “I wasn’t sure I could find the place until I saw your red hair shining in the sun. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?
“Sure, Grandpa. This is Uncle Tim, and this is Aunt Ruth. This is my grandpa!” Sarah beamed.
The man set Sarah back down and shook hands with Tim first, since he was closer. “I’m Sam Connor, Jane’s dad.” His grip was firm. “I’ve been out of town on business for a few weeks, but I thought it was high time I came to see this little angel and meet my new grandson.”
Tim noticed that, as Ruth stepped forward to take Sam’s hand, his aunt blushed a little. “What a pleasure to meet you as well.”
Sam cradled her hand in both of his. “Believe me Ruth, the pleasure is all mine.”
Chapter 6
On their walk to Castro Street, Ruth wanted to find out what was bothering Tim, but it was hard for her to focus. When Sam held her hands just now she felt a thrill she hadn’t known in years. Why couldn’t I have put on a touch of lipstick before leaving the apartment? And I’m in sweat clothes! Now I’m just being foolish. I’ve never worn lipstick to go for a morning run in my entire life, and I’m certainly not going to start now. But what a charming gentleman.
When they reached the corner, a shiny silver convertible passed by, honking before it turned onto Castro Street. “Hey Tim,” the driver yelled out. To Ruth he was just another bald man in sunglasses. The passenger wore a baseball cap and waved. Tim waved back.
“Who were they?” Ruth asked.
“A couple of notorious drag queens.”
“Now, Tim, I may not know everything about gay life in the Castro, but I know a drag queen when I see one, and those two were both dressed as men.”
“K.C. Dare was driving and that was Donna Sachet in the passenger’s seat. Trust me; they’re drag queens. They just don’t happen to be in drag right now. You wouldn’t know them as the same two people.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” Ruth said. A few steps later, she added, “That’s quite impressive, you know.”
“What is?”
“That you know those two guys—the drag queens. I mean, you recognized them when they’re not even wearing any women’s clothing.”
Her nephew smiled. “Everything is drag, Aunt Ruth. You’re dressed as a jogger this morning. That’s your drag. And I’m in my waiter drag because I’m on my way to work. What’s really more impressive is that they know me.”
“Who doesn’t know you? That’s one of the things I love about the Castro. People know each other. You told me when I came to visit last summer that it was like a small town, and I feel like I want to get to know everyone.”
“You will eventually, working behind the bar at Arts. Next time there’s a big function at the Edge I’ll take you over there and maybe you’ll get to meet all the drag queens. Donna and K.C. and Goldblatt and Bernard. Bernard is an undertaker, so he really knows make-up!”
Ruth laughed, unsure of whether Tim was joking. “Still, that says something to me that you recognized them out of drag.”
“All it says is that I’ve been in San Francisco a lo-o-ong time!”
Ruth wanted to ask Tim about other things. That article in the Chronicle about the body they found in the Russian River kept irritating the back of her mind. Tim had to have heard something about it when he was up there this past week. Then there was Phil, the new piano player at Arts. Ruth wondered what was going on between her nephew and him. Or was Scott exaggerating? Ruth could have sworn that Phil had purposefully bumped into Tim, but why would he do something so childish if he was truly attracted to him? This morning she wasn’t sure if she trusted her eyes or her memory.
Sarah had said Tim needed cheering, but he had seemed reluctant to talk about it. Had it been one of those dreams? Ruth’s mother considered her dreams to be almost as important as what she saw in waking life. Ruth didn’t like to dwell on things she couldn’t understand, but she’d acknowledged long ago that her mother’s uncanny abilities must have skipped a generation and resurfaced in Tim.
Ruth never seemed to dream at all or if she did she rarely remembered them. She’d been alarmed last summer when Tim told her about his dream of Jason dressed up in his leather outfit, holding the riding crop in his hand. That one had turned out to be important, if only she could have figured out what it meant a whole lot sooner.
A neighbor on Hancock Street out washing his car nearly splashed them with the garden hose. “Sorry! Did I get you?”
“No harm done,” Ruth assured him.
“Are you the folks moving into Karl’s old place?” he asked. “I mean, Jason’s old place?”
“Not me,” Ruth said. “My nephew here—Tim is.”
“Howdy.” Tim managed a smile and lifted one hand to wave.
“I knew Karl for years,” the man said, but didn’t introduce himself. “Didn’t get to know Jason that well, but it was a shame what happened. Did they ever catch the guy?”
Tim leaned toward his aunt and muttered, “Didn’t he read the papers? What does he mean, ‘catch the guy’? W
e sliced him up with a knife and the fireplace poker.”
The neighbor had looked away to turn off the nozzle and now he started rubbing down the roof of his car with a chamois. “How is the old lady? Does she still live upstairs?”
Tim shook his head. “She’s fine, thanks for asking. Her grandson told me she moved to Alameda to be closer to her son and daughter-in-law.”
“Good to hear. I like her books,” the guy said. “I’ve read them all, I reckon. She can spin a good yarn, all right. ”
“We’d better be going or you’ll be late for work.” Ruth directed her comment toward the neighbor as much as to Tim.
…
Ruth started thinking of how Tim’s mother, Ruth’s sister Betty, had done everything she could to discourage their mother from spending time with her grandson. It was easier for Betty to ignore their mother’s visions or Tim’s dreams or anything else that didn’t fit neatly into her view of the way the world should be.
If Tim was starting to have more frequent dreams again, Ruth didn’t want to discourage him, but she wasn’t sure what to do. If he wanted to talk about them, she was there to listen, but she didn’t want to influence him by planting seeds of worry in his brain. He’d already had a hard enough time growing up gay with a religious fanatic for a mother, not to mention Betty’s drinking.
“Nick might not be able to come down this weekend.” Ruth jumped. She hadn’t said a word after they walked past that annoyingTim’s neighbor. Had he read her mind?
“What did you say, dear?”
“You were asking me about Nick. Weren’t you? I’m angrier at myself than anything. I don’t want to feel all weird and possessive about him. It’s just that we had such a good time together, and the more I get, the more I want. It’s not like we made plans to do something special this weekend or anything.”
“Tim, you know that old saying about absence making the heart grow fonder, don’t you?”
Russian River Rat Page 4