“Do you think it will come to that?” Tim asked. “Is this idea of using Arts a done deal?”
“You know Artie,” Ruth said with a sly grin. “He can always get his way. He just has to pretend Arturo’s the boss. It works the same way with a lot of straight couples, you know.”
“Fascinating.” Tim was thinking how he might be able to use that psychology on Nick if he ever needed to.
“You’ve known them both a lot longer than I have, Tim. I’m surprised you never noticed.”
“Who does Rosa have in mind for the gay couple? Anyone we know?”
“Artie suggested all sorts of people. You know… like Tony and Jeff, my neighbors that moved into Ben and Jane’s old place. They’re young and good looking and they’d photograph well.
“You mean they’re both butch, right? I’m sure Rosa wants gay guys who don’t look too gay. Do Jeff and Tony want to get married?”
“I don’t know, but they might be willing to for the sake of a good party and being on television and all the gifts. I think the winners get a free cruise or something… some kind of trip. Your name came up, of course. You and Nick would be Artie’s first choice.”
“Oh-oh! Nick would like nothing better, but he’s serious about it. I don’t think he’d want to do it on a television show,” Tim thought about it for a moment. “He’d better not try to trick me into something. He knows how I feel. I’m like you. I don’t want change. Things are fine with me, just the way they are. We don’t need the gifts, either.”
“Don’t forget about your complimentary copy of the coffee table book that goes along with the series.” Ruth was being sarcastic now. “It’ll be chock full of photographs and recipes and all sorts of helpful wedding tips!”
“Artie can forget about it. I wouldn’t mind if Nick and I had more time to spend together, but I like my freedom. I don’t want to get married. I’m all for the fight against Proposition 8, but mostly because it pisses off the right-wing conservatives. Whenever Nick brings up having a ceremony, I change the subject.”
“Have you had an argument about it yet?” Ruth asked with a satisfied smile.
Chapter 8
Tim intended to go home after breakfast and get back to work on the kitchen floor, but the noise of chainsaws was still deafening, so he kept walking, right past his house, and ended up in Dolores Park. Tim thought it wasn’t warm enough to take off his shirt and lie in the sun, but a few die-hards near the uppermost corner were unfurling blankets and squeezing cold tubes of expensive sun-tanning products across their bare flesh.
Ruth headed home after breakfast, too, but stopped at Buffalo Whole Foods at the corner of 19th Street. She was daydreaming over a basket of figs when she felt a tap on her shoulder. “May I buy the pretty lady a drink?”
“Artie… you startled me!”
“What are you up to?”
“Nothing… I just had breakfast with Tim and I’m heading home… nothing at all. You?”
“I was going to walk over to the restaurant, lock myself in the office and finish up some paperwork, but you could be an angel and help me procrastinate. Besides, how often does a gentleman offer to buy you a drink on this street?”
“It’s too early for alcohol. Maybe I could force down another cup of coffee.” Ruth smiled and took his arm as they crossed Castro Street toward Arts.
“How’s Tim this morning?”
“He’s fine, but they’re taking down that sickly old redwood tree in his back yard and the noise is horrible.”
“Who are they? Not Tim and Nick, I hope.”
“No, Nick sent some of his workmen down from the nursery.
“Good. That must be a dangerous job… such a big old tree… and I can’t imagine Nick chopping anything down, as much as he likes to grow things. I’d expect him to try nursing it back to health the way he did Tim after his accident.”
“I think that old tree was beyond help, some kind of root rot, but maybe that’s why Nick sent his people to do it when he wasn’t around. He couldn’t bear to watch them cut it down. I’m sure it will be a good thing in the long run. There’ll be more sunlight for new things to grow.”
“And that’ll give Nick and Tim another project.”
Ruth thought about Nick and Tim planting new things together and it made her feel old. As hard as she tried to ignore the fact, tomorrow was her birthday. Even though most people assumed she was younger, Ruth’s driver’s license insisted that she was pushing 60. Her life was more than half over while Tim’s life with Nick was in its infancy, or so she hoped. Her relationship with Sam was no longer new, but that was just as well. She didn’t have the patience for growing pains anymore.
“And how are you doing these days, Ruth?”
“Fine,” Ruth answered Artie’s question as if it were only small talk. He had the coffee machine brewing behind the bar and Ruth sat down on a barstool, but her mind was a million miles away. She was glad she’d been able to talk to Tim about some of her thoughts, but she still wasn’t happy. Maybe she would have to talk things out with Sam—or ‘argue’ them out, as Tim suggested—and suffer whatever consequences came of it. Maybe she was only imagining that things were as bad as she thought. She wasn’t even sure whether Sam really was upset with her. But how could Sam go out of town on business when tomorrow was her birthday? Tim hadn’t mentioned it either and he had to know when it was. It seemed like she was the only person on earth who knew when her birthday was except for the DMV. Ruth never liked a big fuss, but it was nice to be remembered. Was it possible that Sam didn’t even know the date? She knew when his birthday was, but she’d gone through his wallet once while he was in the shower in order to be certain.
Ruth wasn’t sure whether Sam was acting cool toward her because of her not wanting to go to Adam’s wedding or maybe his feelings toward her had dwindled when she dropped hints about not pressuring her into their marriage plans. It wasn’t like him to forget her birthday, though. That could be a deal-breaker. He must know… or did he? Tim was busy these days, too. Certainly he would remember to call her at some point tomorrow.
“Are you sure?” Artie interrupted her train of thought and set his own steaming mug of coffee at the space next to hers before he came around the bar to join her.
“Sure of what, Artie?”
“Are you sure you’re fine?” Artie clarified his question. “You seem a little down in the dumps these days, that’s all. If everything’s okay at Tim’s house, then I guess there’s a problem with Sam? Or is it something else that’s bothering you? I hope you’re not having a problem with anyone here at Arts.”
“What makes you think that?”
“Don’t try to bullshit me, Ruth. You may think I’m just a silly old drag queen, but—”
“Artie, I never!”
“I know you weren’t too crazy about Rosa Rivera’s visit the other night, either. This isn’t about her, is it?”
“Artie, where do you get such ideas?” Ruth tried to sound defiant, as if he could read her mind and she should do something to stop him. It never worked, but she tried. Her face must be an open book. But Rosa Rivera hadn’t entered her thoughts in a good fifteen minutes, so Artie was barking up the wrong tree on that account.
“Nobody else liked her either, if that makes you feel any better. She’s quite the character, I must admit, but in spite of the way she comes across in person, that woman is very popular with the public and she’s going places. Mark my words, when her new wedding series on TV makes it big and the souvenir wedding book comes out, it could really put us on the map.”
“You’re so funny, Artie… I was just telling Tim this morning to ‘mark my words’ and now I don’t even remember what we were talking about. Well, I hope you’re right about Rosa.”
“I’m always right. Why doubt me now?” Artie asked with grin. “Rosa Rivera will be famous nation-wide within a year and we can say we knew her when. Just think, if you can get one second of air-time on her special, people will flock t
o Arts, just so they can buy a drink from Ruth Taylor and they’ll leave huge tips so that you’ll never forget them. You’ll get postcards from your own fans from around the world! The tourists will take more pictures in front of Arts than at Coit Tower and the Golden Gate Bridge combined. They’re always taking pictures in front of Harvey Milk’s old camera store up the block. Maybe we can get a plaque in the sidewalk too.”
“And I suppose if you got to appear on the show, it would be very good exposure for Artie Glamóur.”
“Hmph! Well… maybe you don’t need the money, but the rest of the employees could use the extra tips if we had more business. I’m just looking out for everyone else’s well-being.”
“Business is already pretty good these days, isn’t it?”
“You’re only here working on the weekends. We could use some help the rest of the time. Sometimes we don’t ring up enough sales to make it worth turning on the lights.”
“I didn’t know that…” Ruth tried to act sympathetic, even though she knew Artie exaggerated wildly.
“But enough about Arts and Rosa. Are you sure there’s nothing troubling you, dear? Is there anything I can do to help?”
“I’ve already talked things out with Tim this morning. He thinks I need to talk things out with Sam. I don’t know if it would do any good to go over it all again with you. I know you’re a good listener Artie, but it’s no big deal. It’s just that Sam wants me to go with him to Adam’s wedding and I’m not sure where I’m going to fit into things in Hillsborough, much less Chicago. Oh… I might be better off going home and cleaning my apartment. Sometimes just getting some chores done can make everything look rosier again. I need to dust, water the plants, run the vacuum around and I know there’s some laundry to do.”
“I have work to do, too, but I tell you what. Why don’t you let me take you out for a nice lunch this week… just the two of us? How about tomorrow? If you’re feeling better by then we’ll call it a celebration and if you’re down in the dumps, we’ll get roaring drunk. We can tie on a beauty and drown our sorrows. How does that sound?”
“Lunch sounds nice, Artie.” Ruth swallowed the last of her coffee. “Call me in the morning and tell me where. I don’t have any other plans tomorrow at all.”
Ruth hadn’t imagined that her only birthday celebration would be lunch with her landlord and employer, but it was better than nothing. She stood up and turned toward the door before Artie could see the tear that was about to roll down her cheek.
Chapter 9
On Thursday morning Artie was still going over the list for Ruth’s surprise party. He’d reached all of the guests except Teresa and she lived right across the hall from Arturo and him on the top floor of their building on Collingwood, but now he was back at the office in the restaurant. He’d called the Indian restaurant three times with details he’d forgotten earlier. He had to make sure everything would be perfect. It was nearly time for him to get dressed to head downtown when he got Teresa on the phone.
“A party for Ruthie? I’ll be there with bells on! I already got her a card at Walgreens. It’s the only place in the neighborhood you don’t have to sort through a million pictures of naked men just to find a nice pretty birthday card.” Teresa had lived in Arturo and Artie’s building on Collingwood since her divorce from her high school sweetheart Lenny, now an out and proud member of San Francisco’s gay “bear” community who preferred to use “Leonardo” ever since he’d met his new “hus-bear” Teddy… er… Theodore.
Teresa still slipped up sometimes. She was known for her love of a good cocktail but she was so good-natured that no one ever dared confront her about her drinking and she was a large enough woman to handle it well, usually.
“Now grab a pen and write down the address. I’m surprised you already knew it was her birthday.”
“I have a calendar with everyone’s birthday I know. It’s on my computer. You know me; if I didn’t have it written down someplace I wouldn’t remember my own name.” Teresa let out a laugh while she wrote down Artie’s instructions. “Is Marcia coming? She can ride with me.” Marcia was the male to female transsexual on the second floor across the hall from the young gay couple Jeff and Tony.
“Yes, everyone’s coming, but it’s a surprise so if you run into Ruth keep your big mouth shut and don’t be late.”
Teresa hung up the phone and started down the stairs with a bag of trash and a bag of empty bottles for the recycling bin. That was when she got a frightening shock. It looked like someone had left a pile of old clothes between the garbage cans. Maybe that meant the containers were full and she’d have to take hers back upstairs or risk Arturo’s wrath if they got fined. Teresa opened the lid on the black container and was glad to see plenty of room inside.
What she wasn’t glad to see was the pile of clothes. It moved. Teresa screamed and a disheveled middle-aged woman—who’d been sound asleep a minute ago—screamed too and ran up the stairs and out the front gate just as Marcia rushed out of her apartment on the second floor with her cell phone in her hand.
“What’s going on down there? Teresa, are you alright?”
“There was a homeless woman back there! She was passed out between the trash cans. She scared the living daylights out of me!”
“I’ll bet you scared her too. By the sounds of the screams, I thought someone was getting murdered. I already called 9-1-1. Well, I’m just getting dressed, so… if you’re sure you’re alright…”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks, Marcia.”
“Aren’t you coming to Ruth’s surprise party? You’d better hurry. I’ll wait for you and we can take a cab together.”
“No, I’m driving, gotta move my car anyway. You can ride with me.”
By the time Teresa gathered her wits and climbed the stairs to the first floor, there was a police car parked outside the gate and what looked like a boy in uniform peering inside. “You alright ma’am? There some kinda trouble here? We got a call, but…”
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. Some homeless woman got in and she startled me; that’s all. That sort of thing doesn’t usually happen around here.”
“Well, the gate isn’t locked here, see?” The police officer pulled it open and Teresa realized the boy in uniform was actually a woman. “The latch looks froze up. You got any WD-40? That ought to do the trick.”
“I think so. I’ll have to look through the junk drawer. Do you want to come in to fill out your report or whatever? I wish you would. I don’t know when I’ve had such a shock. Come on upstairs. I’m on the top floor.”
“Nice place you got here. I like all the sunlight and the natural wood. Just look at that view you’ve got of the big rainbow flag and the Castro Theatre! You lived here long? It’s real homey!”
“Thanks, I like it… since shortly after my divorce, I guess.” She noticed the name on the brass tag on the policewoman’s uniform and stuck out her hand. “My name’s Teresa. It’s good to know you’re right on the spot, Officer Fuller.”
“Call me Birdie, Ma’am,” she smiled. “Everyone does except the assholes on the force that call me ‘sir’ behind my back, but hey… I’ve been called worse things.”
“If you need me to sign anything, I’ll be glad to. I’m sure Marcia would too. We’re not used to having people sneak in here. Marcia used to be Malcolm, though. I don’t know if she got her sex-change down on the paperwork yet, so for legal purposes…” Teresa was still shaken up and rambling nervously.
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Let’s just get that gate working so it doesn’t happen again.”
Teresa continued scrounging through the kitchen drawer. “Let’s see… pliers, electrical tape, a dead flashlight… Here it is! WD-40! I’d invite you to join me for a drink, but I’m expected at a surprise birthday party for my downstairs neighbor, Ruth. I don’t know what the hell to wear. Maybe you could join me another time. I make a mean Bloody Mary…”
“Thanks, but… um… I don’t drink on the job. Let me have that can an
d I’ll give your front gate a quick squirt. I’ll be back in a second.”
She dashed down the stairs two at a time and came back up the same way a couple of minutes later.
Teresa calmed down and thought about what had just transpired. “That poor old homeless woman must have snuck into the garbage nook for some rest. She was probably just as startled as I was. But we’ve never had anyone sneak in the building before. I’m sure she meant no harm, it’s just that if she got in that easy, there’s no telling who else could.”
“The WD-40 should take care of the lock for the time being, but you ought to tell the landlord to have a look at it. The fog makes things rusty and the spring is old, too. It needs to be replaced. Who owns this building?”
“Arturo and Artie. They own Arts bar and restaurant on Castro Street. Artie used to be a big performer at Finocchios before they closed down a few years back.”
“Artie Glamóur? I’ll be damned! I haven’t seen Artie in years. I worked the beat shift in North Beach when I first started on the force. Artie was a big celebrity back then. Sometimes we had some drinks and laughs after we both got off work. How’s he doing?”
“Artie’s fine. They both are. You should stop in and see him sometime. He’s there behind the bar most nights.”
“I’ll do that. Is he still dressing up like a girl?”
“Now and then,” Teresa laughed out loud. It seemed to her that Artie would have an easier time looking like a ‘girl’ than Birdie Fuller ever could. “Not nearly as often as he used to, I reckon…”
“It was real nice to meet you, Teresa,” the policewoman stuck out her hand again. “Tell Artie hi from Birdie Fuller and tell Arturo to get that lock replaced. That gate should be okay for a while, but until they really get it fixed, be careful that it always latches shut behind you.”
Wedding Season Page 6