Tim stood at the toilet and blinked into the bathroom mirror. It was going to be a long day. He went to the kitchen, slid a filter into the coffee maker, measured four scoops and poured cold water into the well. He didn’t bother to set the timer. All he’d have to do later was flip the switch.
Nick was right; the remodeling would be worth the hassle. The hardwood floor glistened in the early sunlight. White tape marked X’s across new sliding glass doors onto the deck. The workmen had promised to finish the railing this week. Tim stood naked in his dusty kitchen and admired the view of Victorian rooftops sloping down the hillsides and the shadowy shapes of the tallest buildings through the misty morning fog downtown.
Back in the bedroom, Nick was lying on his side with his long blond hair tousled around his handsome face. Even though he was asleep, his arm was outstretched, empty palm still open, reaching out, waiting for Tim to return. Tim watched Nick’s steady breathing from the doorway and realized how lucky he was. With Nick in his life, there was nothing he couldn’t handle. Right now there was plenty of time to crawl back into bed and sleep for a few more hours.
Tim arrived at the restaurant at a quarter to twelve to find the TV crew snaking cables through the room and fastening them to the floor with gaffing tape. Artie was behind the bar cutting limes and taking an occasional bite of an omelet. He was in full-face make-up, but still in men’s clothes. “Thank goodness, Timmy… at least you’re on time. You’re the only one I can always count on around here. Everyone else is late.”
Tim wouldn’t say so, but he thought Artie looked ridiculous without hair, in false eyelashes and broad daylight. “It’s not even noon yet. Relax. This thing doesn’t even start until four, does it? What time is Aunt Ruth coming in?”
“She worked last night until Sam got here around eleven. I sent her home and told her to be back by two. The live broadcast starts at four. Scott should be here by now to set up the bar for the both of them, but I’ve almost got their fruit done already. Arturo’s been here with these television people since 9 o’clock this morning. The entrants are due at 2:30. Jake should be here by now. Phil should be here. Patrick should be here. James should be here.”
“Are you gonna finish those potatoes?” Tim picked at Artie’s home fries with his fingers. “Anybody heard from Bruno yet?”
“Not that I know of. Rosa’s called twice this morning, but she didn’t mention him and I didn’t have the heart to ask. If you’re hungry, get Arturo to fix you something. He’s in the kitchen making hors d’oeuvres for later.”
“No thanks, I’m not hungry.” Tim stabbed a forkful of omelet and pushed it into a small triangle of whole wheat toast. “Nick and I had blueberry pancakes at my place.”
“Before or after you had sex?”
“What makes you think—?”
“You sure did something to work up an appetite.”
Before Tim could respond, the other waiters started arriving, plus Jane with both kids in tow. She plopped a stack of papers on the bar. “Here, Artie. Here’s the final list for your doorman. I did it exactly the way you asked. Ben helped me, in fact. He pulled out applications at random and I checked to confirm that they were all complete, that everyone was over 21 and that everyone lives in local area codes. We confirmed twenty couples. I’ve called and e-mailed every one of them and they’ll all be here by 2:30.
“Thanks, Jane. I’m glad I thought to ask you. I mean… you’re the only person around here who doesn’t work. I knew I could count on you to do a good job.”
“Why does Uncle Artie look like a clown, Mommy?” Jane’s little daughter Sarah asked.
“Because he is a clown, sweetheart.” Jane turned to Artie and lowered her voice. “I’ll give you an hour alone with these two kids and then I dare you to tell me I don’t work.”
Artie ignored her and asked, “Is there anyone we know among the contestants?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact—”
“No. Don’t tell me! I want to look surprised if I happen to be on camera when the names are called.”
“Who wants this list, then?” Jane asked.
“Bruno is supposed to be on the door, but nobody’s heard from him yet. It wouldn’t hurt to have one of our people there, too. James, would you mind doing it?”
“Sure.” James took the sheet of paper. “Hey, my name’s on this list and I’m not even dating anybody.”
“That’s not just the entrants, it’s the entire door list,” Jane explained. “That includes all the staff, Artie’s and Rosa’s guests, the TV crew, press people, Gavin Newsom and his entourage and all the contestants. Everyone is in alphabetical order.”
“Oh, okay,” James said. “I sure didn’t want to get married.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Artie snarled as Phil walked in the door. “You’re late!”
“I told you I had a doctor’s appointment, Artie,” Phil picked up a slice of orange that was garnishing Artie’s omelet.”
“On a Saturday morning?” Artie slapped at Phil’s hand and missed. “If you boys are hungry, go eat now. I don’t want growling stomachs on the audio track and Arturo won’t have time for you to be pestering him to cook something later.
“Is that what you’re calling them now, Phil… doctor’s appointments?” Jake asked. “We all recognize the sound of the snap of a rubber glove.”
“Shut up, Jake,” Phil tossed the orange rind back on the plate. “I told you about it last night, Artie, and besides, there was no reason for me to be here so early.”
“We need to run a sound check as soon as—” Artie started to argue, but the phone rang and he was the closest one to it. It hadn’t stopped ringing all morning. Once the show started, he was turning it off.
Jake asked Phil, “Come on. Where were you, really?”
“I had a client… incredible place on the far side of Potrero Hill. You can see the whole Bay Bridge and all the lights across the water.”
“Hmmm… a dungeon with a view, huh?” Tim asked.
“Yeah, kind of… this guy was really kinky! You’ve all seen my ad in the B.A.R., right? I mean… I advertise as a top, but… I don’t know. I have an open mind, but this guy was almost scary. He got me all the way over there and then he told me he was into breath control. You really ought to do that with someone who specializes. Every now and then I get some far-out calls, usually from ‘straight’ guys—even married men—in town on business.”
“Like what?” Jake asked. “Is everybody still doing crystal these days?”
“Yeah, some, but that’s their business. A lot of the guys are into stuff they could do alone. For bondage you need a partner, I’ll grant you that, but why pay me by the hour to watch them pumping or doing sounds? I could be sitting across the room reading a Danielle Steel novel.”
“I’ll see you later then,” Artie hung up the phone and turned back toward his employees. “Phil, I was hoping you and I could run through my number one more time before Rosa gets here. Oh-oh! We’re too late!”
Rosa Rivera swept in with her face made up almost as much as Artie’s, but her head was covered in a scarf and she was wearing jogging clothes. Tim was surprised at how short she was until he realized he’d never seen her before without high heels. Bruno was following close behind, schlepping her dress over one shoulder with a wig box under his arm. He dropped everything on the bar and yelled, “How dare you speak to me like that, after all the times I’ve saved your ass?”
“Me? Speak to you… figlio di buona donna… like what? Why you little son of a bitch!”
“Hah! That’s pretty funny! My own mother calling me a son of a bitch. Did you hear that, guys? Last week it was ‘bastard’—also true!”
“I don’t need you. Siete inutili! I’ve already hired your replacement.”
“Fine! I didn’t want to stick around here anyway. I can go home and watch you implode on live television in just a little while.”
“Rosa!” Artie interrupted their argument. “Why don�
�t you go in my office and relax? Jake, carry her things in there, will you? There’s a nice full-length mirror and a make-up table. You can finish putting yourself together. Would you like a cup of coffee? How about a cocktail? Campari?”
Rosa didn’t answer, but stormed off toward the back room. Then Artie caught Bruno before he could leave. “Listen, Bruno, I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but I’m not having it ruin my chance at appearing in front of a live television audience. You’re the only one who’s not afraid of her. Whatever happens, I’d feel better if you stuck around here, just in case…”
“I have no other plans,” Bruno offered with a thick smirk.
“Good. How about working the door like we planned? James will help you.”
Tim headed for the kitchen where things were quieter and Arturo put him to work right away. They arranged hors d’oeuvres onto silver trays, covered them with plastic wrap and placed them onto the top shelves of the stainless steel refrigerators for later. Tim tasted a dab of olive spread that was spilled on the counter. His mother would call these “finger sandwiches” back in Minnesota. The thought of his mother passed so quickly it was gone before the salty taste left his tongue. He was getting better at blocking unpleasant thoughts from his mind, but he still hadn’t quite perfected the trick. Sometimes lately he could see the same images in his waking life that he did in his dreams.
Arturo asked him to go get a couple of lemons from behind the bar. Tim was curious to see what was going on out there anyway. The dining room was getting crowded, mostly with young men in tuxedos and boutonnières, a few drag queens and the occasional parent. Tim wondered whether Artie or Rosa would be more nervous.
Scott said, “Here’s your lemons, Tim. Hey, you should grab a tray and start serving cocktails with Jake. The tables are filling up now.”
“I guess you’re right. If I was getting married I’d sure need a drink about now, whether it was televised or not.” Tim brought Arturo the lemons and came right back out.
Artie was in full drag now. He was no longer the bartender, landlord and boss, but Artie Glamóur, a vision in red and silver sequins with a white hat perched so far back on the curls of his peach-colored wig it seemed a miracle that it stayed there.
Tim’s Aunt Ruth waved to him from the front end of the bar. She was far too busy to come to where he was. Tim noticed that she had Sam safely tucked into the corner bar stool against the wall, with his daughter Jane beside him. She was not only enjoying a respite from her two kids, but no doubt curious to find out which of the twenty finalist couples she had so carefully screened would be the winners. Next to Jane was Nick, who must have just arrived. He grinned and waved too. Then there were Teresa, Marcia, Tony and Jeff, rounding out the rest of the gang from Collingwood Street.
Someone had posted copies of the schedule everywhere. Artie’s song would be followed by a two-minute commercial, after which Rosa would introduce the former mayor Gavin Newsom, now California’s Lieutenant Governor. Tim was taken aback at how handsome he was in person. Too bad he was straight and everyone knew it, since he had a wife and two kids and a house in the Haight/ Ashbury district. Still, he would always be a hero to gay-rights, ever since he opened City Hall to gay marriage during his first term as mayor.
Bruno was back in charge again, gesturing to Artie and Phil to stretch while Rosa scrambled between chairs and bar stools toward the stage. They all had explicit instructions to stay out of the way and not to serve cocktails while the live show was on the air, so Tim darted back into the kitchen. Whatever he missed from the porthole window he could see on TV later. Artie would no doubt tape it and probably run his part on a continuous loop at the bar forever.
Ben and the kids were watching at home on Hancock Street. Little Sarah, whom Tim always called the magic child, was overcome with excitement. “Look, Daddy, look! Uncle Artie is all dressed up in a shiny dress! Can’t we go to Arts and be on TV too? Please, Daddy? Please?”
Her little brother Samuel Timothy was too young to understand what all the fuss was about, but Ben started putting his baby son’s shoes on him. He figured they might as well join the fun. “We’ll go as soon as they announce the winners, okay? Get your shoes on too, Sarah.”
They watched Gavin Newsom step up to the microphone. “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my great honor as a long-time advocate of enabling each citizen to marry the person he or she loves, regardless of race, religion or sexual identity, to be here at Arts today on San Francisco’s historic Castro Street. It is my sincere hope that one day soon these commitment ceremonies will be more than merely symbolic, but carry the full weight of law with all the rights and freedoms that my wife and I enjoy. Now that Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell has been repealed, it’s only a matter of time.”
There was a round of applause while the camera panned to Rosa, beaming, though she’d been glaring a moment ago and glancing at her watch. The camera panned the crowd and then landed on Artie, blushing at the kitchen doorway with Arturo beside him in an apron and chef’s hat. “There’s Uncle Tim!” Sarah shouted. “He’s looking through the window behind Artie’s shoulder.”
“I want to especially thank Rosa Rivera for inviting me to take part in this momentous occasion, the first gay wedding on live television. Are we ready?”
There was a bit of off-camera fumbling as Bruno lifted a crystal bowl full of slips of paper toward the stage. “Please come forward when I call your names.” Lieutenant Governor Newsom drew one of the slips of paper to read the names, “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered here today to witness the festive union of two loving souls… oh, this is interesting! I know one of the winners! Let’s have a warm round of applause for… one of San Francisco’s finest… Officer Birdie Fuller… and Teresa Shaw!”
“Oh, my God, Ruthie,” Teresa turned white as she yelled across the bar. “I never intended for this to happen! Give me a shot of something. Make it a double and make it quick!”
Chapter 24
“Women?” Rosa screamed. “Lesbians?” Her eyes grew wider than even Bruno had ever seen them.
Folks watching at home would later remark that whoever called the shots from the white panel truck parked on Castro Street had done a brilliant job. They switched from the close-up of Rosa’s face just in time so that the TV audience barely caught her fury.
“Artie, you big fat fool!” she screamed at him. “Brutto ciccione! How could you let this happen? I didn’t want dykes in my beautiful wedding series! And what about my gorgeous coffee table book? I wanted two of the handsomest men you could find. Any of those couples in the front rows would do.” At least four pairs of men gazed into each others’ eyes and held hands a little tighter, sure that she was referring to them.
One of the cameras panned the room and caught Teresa belting down a shot while Nick and Marcia helped her stand up. The other camera caught Birdie as she bounded in the doorway from the sidewalk and worked her way toward Teresa. Birdie gave her a great big smooch and pulled her along the rest of the way to the stage.
Tim stepped out of the way just in time as Artie dashed into the kitchen with Rosa hot on his tail. Artie’s white hat slipped backward just as Rosa caught up to him and pulled off his wig. “Artie, voi idiot stupido! I’m going to kill you!” The sound technician in the truck had switched off her body mike, but everyone in the restaurant could hear her through the still swinging double doors into the kitchen. Phil pounded out the Wedding March as loudly as he could.
What those inside the restaurant couldn’t see was that Rosa’s spiky heel slid on a blob of chicken liver pate that must have dropped on the tile floor. Her arms flew up as she stumbled backward and landed flat on her back with the wind knocked out of her. Artie replaced the hat and wig on his head, stepped over Rosa’s supine body and triumphantly returned to the dining room just as Birdie and Teresa reached the stage.
Jane gave her father a peck on the cheek. “Maybe I’ll watch from outside, where I can catch some fresh air, Dad. Rosa looks furious.
What if she comes after me next? I didn’t know. Artie never told me not to include women.”
“Don’t worry,” Ruth said. ”No one will let her hurt you. We’ll hold your seat at the bar, though. Do you want to join her, Sam?”
“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Sit down, Jane. You’ll be fine.”
Teresa was wearing her new purple pants suit. She wouldn’t have dressed up at all if the boys who lived downstairs hadn’t talked her into it. She thought Tony and Jeff must have entered, but they insisted that they hadn’t. When they all walked over from Collingwood earlier, Marcia speculated that Tim and Nick would be the winners, so Teresa wanted to be there for them. Now here she was, standing up in front of a room full of people—strangers, mostly—with the former mayor of San Francisco asking her whether she did and whether she would… Her head was spinning so fast she could hardly understand what she was promising. Darn that Tim! Where was he now?
The last time Teresa had stood up like this was when she married Lenny right out of high school. Now Leonardo was a gay bear married to Theodore, who was called Teddy when Teresa first met him. And Teresa was standing up here with Birdie. She never imagined that Birdie would pull such a stunt. She’d dropped enough hints about it though, and Teresa had to admit they’d been having an awfully good time together. Birdie was a heck of a gal alright… but the first time I got married it was to a gay man and it was all legal and legit and where did that end up? This time I’m marrying a woman and it only means whatever we say it means… but what does it mean? What does that make me?
Tim was the only person she’d told that she was seeing someone special, but she hadn’t told him who. Even when her mother in Seattle had suspected something was going on, Teresa hadn’t admitted it, but wasn’t it funny how a mother knows things? She might have invited her mother if she’d known they were getting married.
Hell, the first time she and Birdie did anything together, Teresa was out cold. She thought it was Bartholomew flicking a tongue in her ear and nuzzling her neck. Now here she was with Birdie standing beside her in her SFPD uniform, looking just as butch as she could be, even though Teresa was nearly a head taller in her new shoes that matched her purple pants suit and who knew how many pounds heavier than Birdie?
Wedding Season Page 19