I sank into a chair next to Nikki. “Thanks. You’re a peach.”
He tried not to smile, but failed. “Such a southern girl.”
Bradford dropped my camera bag in my lap, sobering. “Don’t let go. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He stood by the conveyor where the light was already beginning to flash.
“How is he going to know which ones are ours?” I asked Nikki.
“He marked them all, probably. He’s organized like that.”
The bags began appearing and Bradford stood in front, snatching bags as they came out. The other passengers began moving forward, obscuring our view.
“I’ve got to see this,” I said, sliding the strap of my bag over my shoulder. The searing light of the terminal was already beginning to sober me up.
I snuck up behind him, trying to find the common denominator on the bags. It wasn’t hard to spot. Each one sported a bit of white lace and a red tag that read “Not just a bag, a Hoebag.” Since I had checked in early, mine wasn’t marked. But he still lifted it from the belt as it passed by.
“How did you do that?” I asked.
“I’m observant,” he said. “Part of my trade.”
“But when?”
“Your dad’s house. I tripped over it, actually, in the bathroom.”
He slung the duffle easily over his shoulder. “You just hang on to the important one—the camera.” He waved the women over and got out of the way, towing a pearlized pink Pierre Cardin behind him.
Nikki grabbed her bag and Bella’s. “Oh, Bradford. Your bag! It’s so gay!”
He shook his head. “It’s from the salon. All the makeup for you ladies.”
Nikki laughed. “That is the gayest thing I’ve ever seen!”
“Well,” Bradford admonished. “If certain ladies hadn’t kept me out all night, I’d have repacked it into something more manly.”
Why did he care if he looked gay? Did he try to hide it, usually? I remembered the moment I first saw him, his arm draped around another man. Did he have a boyfriend? He always seemed to pop up places alone. I couldn’t bear to ask.
Mary snatched her bag. “The van’s waiting! Let’s go!”
We stepped out into San Diego, my first visit to California. Palm trees where everywhere, as if the city wanted to present the stereotype immediately upon a visitor’s arrival.
The Hoebags loaded into the huge red van, everyone animated now, watching out the windows. We drove along the upper part of a bay, the water extending forever. “The ocean,” Bella breathed. “I can’t wait to get in it. When are we going?”
“Sunday, after the game,” Mary said. “We’ll have time before our flight.”
“I say we go skinny dipping tonight,” Nikki said.
“Nobody wants to see you naked,” Blitz said. “Least of all me.”
“You’re just jealous,” Nikki said. She pushed her chest up beneath her pirate vest. “I got me some double D action.”
Blitz grunted.
“So Zest, you going to photograph us skinny dipping?” Nikki asked.
I glanced at Bradford, who shook his head. I hugged my camera bag closer to me. “You going to get arrested the night before your wedding?”
“Lame!” Nikki said. “I knew it!”
“I’m all for it,” I said. “But if you get busted, I’ll claim I never saw you before in my life.”
“Ha, we’re all from Texas,” she said. “No one will believe you. Like Peter trying to deny Jesus.”
“Leave Jesus out of this,” Mary said. “We’re coming up on downtown.”
“Where are we staying?” Bella asked.
“In Old Town,” Mary answered. “It’s really close to a lot of shopping, restaurants, and the historic district. We can walk to all of it.”
“Is the wedding hall close by?” I asked.
“Yes, in fact, I’ll ask the driver to pass by it on the way so you can see.”
Mary moved to the front of the van. The palm trees would make for stunning shots all on their own, easy contrast against a white sky. I would have the most amazing wedding album I’d ever done.
Mary returned. “He’s turning that way now. It’s a couple exits before Old Town,”
We drove down a smallish street. “It’s coming up, I think,” she said. “I’ve only been here once before. It’s called Brownstone.”
“That’s it!” Jenna said. “I see the sign.”
We approached a long stone wall with an arch. Outside of it, quite a few people were milling around, setting up tables, and painting signs.
“Must be something happening here tonight,” Mary said. “But we have it free and clear in the morning.”
“It looks nice,” Audrey said.
Neither Bradford nor I talked, both assessing the location as we idled by. I could see lots of green grass, some wrought iron chairs, a few trees. All good for portraits outdoors if the inside was too dark or cluttered. I sat back. “I can work with that.”
“It looks good,” Bradford said. “Only Bella is wearing heels, but we’ll keep her off the grass if it’s soft.”
“True,” I said. I’d seen more than one bride sink into a lawn, muddying up her shoe or losing it all together.
“The hotel’s coming up,” Mary said. “I’ll jump in ahead and make sure all the rooms are in order.” She checked her watch. “Don’t forget to fall back two hours. We’re arriving well after check in time, but you never know.”
As the van approached the front, we spotted a line of people waving signs and marching in a circle.
Blitz smacked her fist against the window. “Can you read that?”
I leaned forward, peering at the lettering. One said, “Marriage is sacred.” Another showed a symbol of two women holding hands with a line through it.
“Is that for us?” Bella asked.
“Surely not,” Mary said.
“Prop 8 is crazy here,” Nikki said. “That’s why we’re trying to get in before the election.”
I pulled my camera from my bag and laid the lens against the window. The van was waiting in line to access the front walk. I snapped a series of shots.
“You shooting this?” Bella asked.
I nodded. “Good documentary stuff.”
“I don’t like the look of it,” Bradford said. “I say let’s find another place.” He pulled out his phone.
“Hopefully they’ll let us out of our reservations,” Mary said. “Surely.”
Branford tapped madly on the screen. “I’ll handle it.”
The driver swerved out of the line of cars and headed back down the street. “There’s scads of hotels around here,” Mary said. “He’ll find one.”
“One that isn’t swarming with wingnuts,” Blitz said.
***
The new hotel was set back from the highway, a sprawling yellow stucco with four separate buildings. The Hoebags got rooms on the ground floor, with mine and Bradford’s above.
“That’ll help you poor saps who aren’t in on the love action get some sleep,” Nikki said as we separated.
I’d no more gotten my Halloween trinkets off and begun arranging my equipment in a day pack when someone pounded on the door.
“Surprise!” Nikki said. “We’re kidnapping you. It’s time for some fun!”
I groaned. “Not another gay bar. Please, Nikki.”
“Just sightseeing. Come on! What else you going to do, sit up here and watch television?” She tugged me by the hand. “Besides, Bradford’s coming!”
Good Lord. Everyone knew.
“Okay okay.” I pulled my arm away. “Let me get my camera.”
***
We walked along streets lined with small shops catering to tourists and into the historic district. Everyone in our group had changed out of their costumes, switching to jeans, although many of the people around us were in full Halloween regalia.
“That’s six Sarah Palins we’ve passed now,” Krieg moaned. “Does everyone with
an updo and glasses think they can pull that look off?”
Butch had given up her guide dog status and trotted along with us. Despite my anxiety that I would be dragged to another gay bar, I didn’t see how we could do anything terrible with a pet in tow.
“Ohhh! Look! There’s a haunted house ahead!” Jenna exclaimed.
“I’m not big on those places where things jump out at you,” Bella said. Nikki wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“No, it’s a REAL haunted house.” Jenna opened her guide book. “The Whaley House is considered to be the most haunted house in America.”
Bella gripped Nikki’s hand. “What happened there?”
“Yeah, what?” Nikki asked. “Stabbing? Hanging? Murders? Mass murders?”
Bella grimaced. “Nikki, please.”
Jenna stopped. “It says here it all started with a hanging.”
“Everything good starts with a hanging.” Nikki peered over Jenna’s shoulder at the book.
“The heavy footfalls of Yankee Jim Robinson are regularly heard in the house.”
“Awesome.” Nikki said. “Let’s go!”
I shrugged. “I’m game.”
Jenna tucked the book in her bag, and we turned the corner. A line had formed outside the red brick building. “Oh, look!” Jenna said, pointing to a sign. “On Halloween they have ghost tours until midnight!”
Bella stopped cold. “No way.”
Nikki pulled her forward. “Oh, come on. It’s not real.”
Bella walked in short, mincing steps, eyes wide. “I believe in ghosts.”
“Then they’ll appreciate your support.” Nikki waved to the Audreys, who had fallen behind. “Come on, Hoebags! We’re putting our scare on.”
We waited our turn, watching groups enter the old house. Bella grew more anxious as we paid for our tickets.
Bradford stood beside me, casual in jeans and his rolled-up button-down. I pretended for a moment that we were on a date, waiting among strangers for our turn for a Halloween scare, him expecting me to clutch his arm. Sigh.
“You all ready?” A lanky twenty-something guide approached us and counted our group. “You’ve got enough for your own tour.”
The guide led us up the front stairs. He spoke in a low and rather silly voice. “Listen carefully for the footsteps of Yankee Jim,” he said, crouching. “Look for Mr. or Mrs. Whaley in the parlor or the courtroom.” He nodded knowingly at our group. “And you, with your camera—”
My head snapped up. Me?
“—Try to capture them on film. Many before have done it.”
He led us into a hallway filled with images of ghosts taken inside the house.
“So watcha think, Zest? Can you get one?” Nikki asked. Bella stared at the images, her hand in a fist by her cheek.
I shook my head. “This one here,” I pointed to a series of glowing orbs before a grand four-poster bed. “Is called lens flare. A reflection from their own flash, most likely, or light from the window or off a mirror.”
I studied the others. “These big white smears can be a smudge deliberately placed on the lens. Or it could be someone breathed on their lens just before taking the image.”
A young Japanese tourist stepped up. “Will that work, really?”
“Sure,” I said. “Try it.”
He breathed on the lens and snapped a quick shot of me. “Wow!” He turned the LCD around. “A ghost!” I had a film of haze before my face. “Awesome, thank you, thank you very much! My friends back home will think I saw a real ghost!”
I moved closer to Bella. “Feeling better?” She nodded.
“Well, that’s enough here,” the guide said, shooting me a “don’t ruin my tour” look.
We followed him into a child’s bedroom. Butch began growling, low and menacing. Jenna had placed the “Guide Dog” harness back on him so she could bring him inside.
We all tensed a little as Butch began backing toward the door.
“The dog senses a presence,” the guide said, clearly pleased. “Everyone close your eyes, let the child who sometimes haunts these walls into your consciousness.”
Butch began to whine, so Jenna scooped him up and went back into the hall.
“I’m with Butch,” Bella said, and she also left.
This would be a fun memory to capture, I realized. I assessed the room, the child’s wooden bed, toys on the parquet floor. The sun wasn’t coming in directly through the window at this hour, so I couldn’t rely on flare. I shrugged. I’d just have to fake it. I licked my finger and ran it across the filter that protected my lens, creating a streak. Then I aimed my camera at the rocking chair, tilting it so that the streak would appear to be something sitting there.
I snapped the shot and checked it. Not quite visible enough. I killed my flash and tried the image again. This time, with the darker background, the side light made the smudge more obvious. Perfect.
“I saw you do that,” Bradford said. “Show me what you got.”
“Oh, I’ll show you what I got.”
Holy shit. Did I just say that?
Bradford cocked his head. “Did I hear you right? Did you just flirt with me?”
My face flamed. “I think I’ve been around these girls too much!”
He laughed lightly. “It’s okay. I’m harmless.”
My shoulders sagged. Of course he was. I turned the camera LCD to him. “Got the ghost.”
He held it close, his fingers cradling the black metal. “Very nice.” He looked over the camera at me. “Also very nice.”
Had he just flirted back?
I’d have to ask Nikki if there was such thing as homoflexible.
Chapter 23: Hottiefication
We ate dinner at the first place that listed margaritas in their window. The light was going gray as we piled down the steps and back into Old Town. More costumes had come out, tourists snapping like crazy.
“Let’s go this way!” Nikki said, steering us across a busy intersection. I had no idea where we were in relation to the hotel anymore. Bradford and I tended to hang back a bit from the group, letting them have their pre-nuptial honeymoon space.
Besides, he might flirt again.
Nikki paused in front of a nondescript door, the windows from its former business incarnation blacked out and painted with silver sparkles. “I’ve heard about this place,” she said. “Let’s check it out.”
I looked at the signs for bands posted by the entrance with suspicion. “What’s this place called?”
“I dunno,” Nikki said. “Let’s go!” She opened the painted glass door to a blast of rock music.
Something about the gleam in her eye made me cautious. I backed away until I stepped onto the street, so I could see the main sign. A giant pair of neon lips sported a single red-tipped finger as if it were saying. “Shh.” Next to it flashed the words, “On the Box.”
I had no idea what that meant. “Can someone translate?”
“Dancing!” Nikki chirped. “You know, like dancing on a box. It’s a dance club.”
We stepped inside the dimly lit interior, bright spotlights circling everywhere. I blinked to adjust. The first thing I saw were two women in very little shiny vinyl holding trays of drinks.
“Ooo la la!” Nikki called out over the noise. “Come on Bella, let’s go make out.”
There were, indeed, dancing boxes throughout the club, lit with pulsating neon. There were no men whatsoever.
I turned around, smashing into Bradford. “Can’t do it. Not again.”
He grasped my arm. “I don’t blame you. I’ll take you back.”
We ducked out the door and into the evening. Fatigue was setting in hard. “I don’t want to spoil your fun,” I said. “Just point me in the general direction of the hotel and I will get there. I drove back last night, like you guys. I’m beat.”
“I’ll walk you. I don’t really want to stay there either.”
We fell in step. Twenty-somethings in strange, sexy costumes hurried by, al
l seeming to have somewhere urgent to go. A girl in a French maid outfit, boobs overflowing the lace neckline, with white thigh stockings and platform heels sauntered straight for us, tickling Bradford under the chin as she passed between us. He didn’t even acknowledge her.
I totally didn’t get him. He dressed really well to be straight. But that was a stereotype, right? Boys could care about their clothes. Straight boys.
He owned a salon. He could be an entrepreneur.
All his friends seemed to be gay, although what did I know, really. Fern had flat out said he was gay, admonishing me for throwing myself at him. Had I? I didn’t think so. But she was obviously not to be trusted. Who knew what motivated her at this point. Anger flared up again, and I stuffed it down.
Maybe I had been wrong, steered the gay direction by Fern. Oh, how I wished I didn’t have the gaydar of a Frisbee.
Bradford touched my back lightly as he led me across an intersection. He did everything so smoothly. It was really, truly, irrelevant whether he was gay or straight. For someone like me, he was unattainable. The sooner I got that firm in my head, the sooner I’d quit making a fool of myself.
Besides, I was still married.
“Nearly there,” he said. The yellow stucco hotel filled most of the block.
My reluctance to leave him grew as we climbed the steps to our building. “So, are you familiar with San Diego? Being from California and all?”
He nodded, holding the door to the hallway open. “When I lived in LA, I used to go to trade shows here. Still do, sometimes. Cosmetics. Hair products.”
“Any bad memories?” We were approaching our doors.
He paused and leaned against the wall. A reprieve. “A few. But they’re behind me.”
“2004?”
“Around then.”
Right. When gay marriages ended. I wondered how much I could pry. “Because of the scene.”
He laughed gently. “Back to that, are we?”
“I could use a change of scene myself,” I said. I walked over to a window to the view of a line of palm trees. “Not a bad one here.”
He stood beside me. “How long were you married?”
“Five years.”
I leaned my head against the cool glass. It felt calming. “I actually sort of figured something like this would happen. I was always surprised anyone would pick me.”
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