All My Children
by Thea Zara and Deref
Chapter 13: Expanding Horizons
Jake looked nervously at his watch. I guess it could take ten
he thought. He looked over at the bushes by the side of the road and
tried to work out what they might be. Didn't the leaf shape have
something to do with what they were called? He seemed to remember
that it did. He reached down and fiddled with the radio dial again.
Still nothing. He opened the glove compartment and took out the car's
manual, thumbing through it in case something interesting had inserted
itself in the five minutes since he'd last looked. Nothing. He put the
manual back and closed the glove compartment. Then he opened it and
closed it again, listening to the satisfying 'click'. He glanced at his
watch again. Eleven minutes. Damn. Eleven minutes was plenty. He opened
the door and got out, peering over the roof of the car to the bushes.
"Helen?" he called quietly.
A little louder. "Helen? Are you
Just the sound of the breeze in the
Jake's heart beat a little faster as
he walked around the car and
across the road.
This was where she'd gone, wasn't
it? He hadn't really paid any
attention, but he thought she'd gone this way.
Dammit! He should have paid more
attention! He looked around to see if
there were any footprints.
Nothing. He thought about how it would be in the movies.
"See that broken twig? Three men came
by two days ago. One had a
limp and was wearing a red shirt. One of them was carrying a heavy bag
over his right shoulder. The other one was six feet tall and had a scar
on his right cheek."
Now he was starting to worry. She
should have been able to hear
that. He cupped his hands around his mouth, breathed in and clenched
his stomach muscles so that he could yell as loudly as he could.
He held his breath to make sure that
he'd hear any faint reply. If only he could hold his heartbeat.
a trip hammer was, it must go
Wait - had she gone over this side
of the road? He
really hadn't taken any notice. Damn! She must have gone over to the
other side! He ran across to the other side of the road where the car
He called again.
The horn. Of course. He ran back to the driver's side,
in through the window and pushed the horn ring. Nothing. What
Damn! Maybe the horn only worked if the keys were in the ignition.
She'd taken them with her. Stupid.
He pushed the horn ring again.
Eleven minutes? What had he been
thinking! If he'd started calling
after five minutes she would have heard him!
Breathing fast and shallow now, Jake
realised that she wasn't going
to answer. He looked around again for signs - footprints, broken
twigs, anything. But he was sure she'd gone to the other side. He
ran across again, looking desperately for something - anything.
Was that a broken leaf? He looked more closely. Yes! He
parted the bushes. Nothing. No clearing, just more of the same.
He was sweating now, and he looked
down for more signs that she'd come
Panic started to set in. He started
to run. The branches tore at his
clothes and his face and hands. He looked around. Nothing.
There was no sign that anyone had been here. He stopped. Yelling was no
good. If she could hear him - or
if she could answer - she
"Helen....? Please..." he
croaked, his voice starting to crack.
Things started to spin, and he sunk
to his knees.
"So this is what you call looking
after someone, is it?"
Jake spun around.
"'I'll look after her,' you said.
'Count on it', you said."
Jake stood up, trembling, tears
running down his cheeks.
"Mr. Barksdale - I...."
"Well? Where is she, Jake?"
"I....I don't know...she..."
"You were looking after her - WHERE
THE HELL IS SHE?"
"Didn't you HEAR her? Didn't you
HEAR her calling for
"Helen..." he whispered.
"If you'd been a MINUTE
earlier...but oh no! You had to wait!"
He fell forward, sobbing.
He lifted his face from the ground
to look where Helen's father had
...oh no...oh no...
"Jake? Why didn't you come?"
Jake strained to get the word out.
"I was so scared, Jake. Why didn't
"A...A..." She was heartbreakingly
beautiful, her hair falling over
her face in the moonlight, just like it had that night. Jake felt as if
his heart was about to burst from his chest and his tears burned like
"I thought you loved me."
"Goddam pissant. Couldn't find your
own ass with both hands, could
Jake froze. He looked around to see
where she'd gone...
"What's the matter, boy?" Mad Dog
Jake felt the bile of fury rise up
in him. "What have you done with
her? WHERE IS SHE?" he screamed.
"You think that a pissant like you
could ever deserve a woman like
her?" Mad Dog Morgendorffer threw his head back and laughed.
He turned to see Helen's father
"She trusted you. I think she loved
"Loved you?" said Mad Dog. "You? She
loved you? Fat chance that'll ever
happen again, boy!"
His head snapped back around to
where Mad Dog stood, but he'd gone.
"Jake? Please Jake..."
Amanda looked around the apartment
small sense of pride. They'd been in New York City for just a little
more than three weeks and she'd managed to turn
it into a liveable, if
still slightly barren, home. Some ratty furniture had come with
it. When combined with the odds and ends
they used on the road, she'd only had to do a little junk store combing
to find the rest of their basic needs. From time to time she found
herself slipping into comparison with the place in San
Francisco. It had been airy and full of light, where the New York
apartment was dingy and
dark, and a little musty, so she stopped herself whenever it happened.
hadn't been the bastion of culture she'd hoped for... at least not yet.
It was hot, smelly, and just plain loud. For Wind's sake she was glad
it was a temporary arrangement, though she didn't mind putting up with
it herself. Getting around was hard since she was getting round, and
she hadn't had a chance to get out and see the
galleries yet. But it was home. And every night Vincent would come back
from his day's schmoozing and they'd sit and talk about the people he'd
met, and they'd play with Wind, and share a meal, and laugh, and life
With a sigh of contentment she
wiggled her way off the couch and
waddled to the sink for a glass of water. The pipes shook and
rattled, and finally she got a glass of rust coloured sludge which she
stared at for a minute but couldn't quite bring herself to drink. With
a sigh, she
poured out the water and set the glass on the sink where
yet another surprise awaited. Her shrieks shook the thin walls on
either side and brought a sleeping Vincent quickly to his feet. He
surveyed the scene and stifled a laugh as he washed the two-inch roach
down the sink and helped Amanda back over to the couch as she plastered
a smile on her face in a valiant attempt not to burst into tears.
"So what's on the schedule
tomorrow?" she asked, a faint tremor in her
"Oh, I don't know," he said, pouring
her a glass of juice from the
refrigerator. "I thought...maybe...the Guggenheim, or perhaps the Met."
She looked at him, puzzled.
"I'm having a day off. And so are
you." He handed her the juice, then
scooped up Wind and sat him on his knee. "My son and I going to spend a
day together and you're going to take a cab to..."
"THE MET!" she squealed.
"The Met," Vincent echoed. "And you
and me," he said, looking at Wind,
"might just go for a walk in the park. How does that sound?"
"Da," said Wind.
Jake woke with a start and sat up,
gulping in a lungful of air and
sighing with relief. But as he turned to tell Helen about it, he froze.
Helen wasn't there. The car was parked exactly where it had been in his
dream. The bushes by the side of the road...the time of day...the bend
up ahead...identical. He reached down to pinch himself and broke out in
a cold sweat with the realisation that this was no dream. He snapped
his head around to face across the road. The same bushes.
He tried to suck in another breath
but his diaphragm refused to
co-operate. Straining with every ounce of his will, Jake finally filled
his lungs with air, then released it all in a scream of sheer terror.
He turned. Helen opened the driver's
side door and climbed in, looking Jake
cautiously in the eye.
"What's the matter?"
"Jake? What's wrong?"
"Thank God you're alright!" he
breathed, throwing his arms around her neck.
"Why shouldn't I be all right?"
grunted, thinking that it would
have been nice if it hadn't been so...weird. "Jake! What the hell's
the..." and she realised he was trembling.
"You were dreaming. You've been
asleep for the last thirty miles."
He looked up and stared into her
eyes. "I promised your father I'd look
after you, Helen. I'm going to! I'm not going to let anything happen to
Helen pulled back from his embrace,
scowling. "You listen to me, Jake
Morgendorffer! My father thinks that that's why I let you come along on
this trip, but if you think for one minute that that's why I let
you come then you've got another damn think coming, buster!"
Jake looked puzzled. "Then why did
you let me come?"
Damn, she thought, I walked into that one. "Just
you remember that I'm quite capable of looking after myself."
"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any
chances," he said as Helen started the
car and pulled back onto the road.
Car horns blared a fanfare as a
Yellow Cab pulled back into the
traffic, leaving a weary and footsore Amanda on a hot New York
sidewalk. Wearing a beatific smile on her face, she tightly clutched a
white paper bag and a
with the words Metropolitan
Museum of Art printed in simple
black on white. The hazy, early
afternoon sun beat down as she glanced left towards The Rose Café,
right towards the apartment block, up to the sun which was still high
in the sky, and made her decision.
The café was still full of lunchtime
stragglers as Amanda made her way
down the aisle to the only table that had a spare seat, a small round
one occupied by an early twenty-something, casually dressed man reading
a copy of the New York Times
and thoughtfully sipping a coffee. Amanda
rested her hand on her stomach to emphasise her condition, and smiled
"Do you mind?"
The man looked up over his paper.
"Oh, please! Let me help," he said,
dropping his newspaper as he stood and walked around to the other side
o the table to hold Amanda's chair out for her.
"Thanks," she said, smiling back at
him as she slid into the seat. "My
feet are killing me!"
He looked down at the booklet in her
hand. "Oh - the Met!"
"Uh huh. It was incredible!"
"First visit?" he asked as
he sat back down opposite her.
He grinned. "The first time I went I
spent a whole hour just staring at
one work. It..."
"The usual, Hon?"
Amanda looked round to the waitress.
"No, I'd like a big, cold, Coke,
"Sure. Extra ice. Comin' up."
"Sorry," she said. " - you're
"No! Never," he enthused. "I think
it was the first time that I knew
I'd come face to face with genius. It was almost a physical sensation
of awe." He smiled. "I guess it's hard to believe, but..."
"No! No - that's the thing! Exactly
same thing happened to me today! I
was...lost in it I guess you'd say."
"May I ask what...?"
Amanda reached into the paper bag,
pulled out a postcard, and handed it
to him. He took it, looked down at it, and looked back up at Amanda
with wide eyes. Leonardo's Head of
She nodded again. "I've wanted to
see it since I was at school, but I
never guessed what it'd be like, seeing the real thing. Do you know it?"
He looked up at her. "Intimately. I
spent an hour staring at her."
"If you're gonna sit there with your
mouth open, Hon, you'd better put
one of these straws in it." Maria put a tall glass of Coke and ice in
front of Amanda, who turned to her and laughed, then turned back to the
man across the table.
"Seriously? You mean that was the
"Seriously. It's incredible isn't
it? I kept thinking that if I could
walk around to the back of the picture I'd see it extending in three
dimensions." He Picked up the postcard and stared at it. "Even the best
reproductions don't come anywhere near it, do they? Just to be there in
front of it - I don't know..."
Three cokes, two cups of coffee, a
large slice of coconut cream pie
each, two trips to the bathroom, and an hour and a half later, he'd
introduced himself as Paul Katz; Amanda had reciprocated, they'd
realised that they'd seen each other in the diner from time to time,
and they'd delighted in each other's love of art, before the
conversation turned to music and the theatre.
"John and I are going to a poetry
tonight. I've been looking
forward to it for weeks," he said.
Amanda looked up. "John?"
Paul blushed. "My boyfr...my friend."
to see the look on her face, and he felt like kicking himself.
They'd been getting along so well, he had let his guard down,
and now she'd either take off, or cause a scene - maybe the
whole "sinner" thing or, worse yet. the "you're a freak" one.
While Paul was mentally kicking himself Amanda was attempting to
process the new information. After nearly a minute of silence between
finally reconnected her brain to her mouth. "So, what's he like?"
Paul smiled, feeling a flicker of relief. "A
bit older than me. He works at a publishing
house as a junior editor."
"He reads a lot then?"
"Not as much as you'd think. He does more fact checking than
actual editing, but he's up for a promotion next month."
"So," she started cautiously, "you two, you're...um... together?"
Paul mentally crossed his fingers before answering. "Yes."
"Neat," Amanda replied, then returned the conversation to the theatre
as Paul breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Vincent, meanwhile, trudged up the stairs, back from the park with Wind
fast asleep in a papoose on his back. As he turned the key in the lock
he heard the door behind him open.
"Aw, look at the little guy, fast asleep."
He turned and smiled at Mrs
McGillicuddy, their matronly
neighbour. "Big day in the park."
"Here - let me help you off with
that," she said, lifting Wind out of
the papoose and holding him gently while Vincent shrugged out of the
shoulder straps. "Is Amanda in? I just wanted to see if she had any
vanilla - the grandkids are coming over tomorrow so I'm baking a cake
and I'm clean out."
"Thanks. Probably," Vincent said, "I
sent her off to the Met while I
looked after Wind. She's sure to be back by now. Come on in."
"Ooh - she's been lookin' forward to
that," she said, following Vincent
into the apartment.
"Honey?" He poked his head into the
bedroom to see if she was lying
down. "I guess she's not back yet," he said, hiding an expression of
"Oh, okay," Mrs. McGillicuddy
replied, thinking what a bad job he'd done
of trying to hid the fact that he was a little worried. "Would you mind
"Oh - no problem - I bet we've got
some - I'll look." He rummaged around in the
kitchen and produced a small bottle of brown liquid which he handed to
She took it, smiling. "Thank you,
Hon. Say - why don't you go down to
the Rose and get yourself a coffee? You look like you could use it.
I'll look after Wind."
"Yeah? Really? That'd be great!" he
said. "Thanks Mrs. McGillicuddy. I
won't be long."
"Take your time, hon. Wind and me'll
be just fine."
"Okay - if he wakes up..."
"If he wakes up I'll give him a
of milk or a peanut butter
sandwich. Or a hamburger. Go on with you now!"
He laughed and, knowing that Amanda
had been happy to leave Wind with
the genial grandmother from time to time, left them to the apartment.
As he rode the creaking antique elevator down three floors, Vincent
told himself that Amanda wasn't really late, she'd only been gone five
- well, nearly six - hours. She could spend days - weeks - at the Met.
But the rational part of him knew that, being nearly seven months
pregnant, she'd get tired after half an hour on her feet, and that he'd
expected that she'd be back a couple of hours ago at the most. The
worried human brain is that most exquisite of torturers, infinitely
inventive and possessed of a subtle knowledge of its own weaknesses.
Vincent, for the first but not the last time, felt its exploratory
"Uh uh! I'm not letting you out of
my sight. No way!"
what my father said, Jake!"
"It's a dangerous world, Helen.
Besides, it's not just that I promised
"I don't care
what your intentions are, Jake. You can't come
into the ladies' bathroom!"
"Ooookay, then," Jake said
uncertainly. "I'll go to the men's bathroom
and I'll see you back in the restaurant. Okay?"
"Fine!" snapped Helen, and she
stormed off as Jake turned and walked
away, looking back over his shoulder as Helen threw the bathroom door
open and walked in.
A few minutes later as she came out
and turned towards the restaurant,
but was stopped by a short man with greasy brown hair, wearing a
checked shirt and faded jeans. "'Scuse me, honey," he mumbled, taking
her by the elbow. "Wouldja be able t' help me with some directions?"
Helen turned. "Sorry - I'm just
passing through. I don't know this
area," she said and turned to go, but he strengthened his grip.
"Maybe y' could just come out t' my
car - I've got a map..."
"I'm sorry - I'm sure someone local
could help you," she said, starting
to get annoyed.
"I got a nice car, honey, I bet
you'd like t' take a ride."
"Look," she said, "I can't help you,
and I'm not interested in cars."
She shook her elbow free of him and walked off toward the restaurant.
He scowled and reached out to grab her again but stopped, feeling a
hand on his shoulder.
Jake's face was red. "Try it."
He stopped, turned, scowled
again, and walked out into the
Helen had turned, hearing his voice,
and she stomped over to where he
was standing watching the man leave. "Get a grip, Jake! He was just
"How do you know that was all he
"BECAUSE HE WAS ASKING ME
DIRECTIONS," she railed, "That's how! Now
listen to me, you male chauvinist PIG! Stop this nonsense, for God's
"Come on - I found us a table by the
window," Jake muttered, sagging
and leading her over to the south side of the room. As she sat down a
beaten up green Pontiac screeched out of the parking lot outside,
missing a small boy walking past.
"Idiot," Helen muttered, recognising
the driver as the man who'd
asked her for directions, and picked up the menu.
"Nothing," she said. "Hmm. Hash
browns I think. And coffee."
The first thing Vincent noticed when
he walked into the diner was
Amanda, leaning over a table full of glasses, plates, and coffee cups,
towards a strange man as they pored over a book. His train of thought
straight from relief - passing, but not stopping at, annoyance -
and reaching the end of the line at the hitherto unexplored station of
Amanda and Paul both looked up,
startled, as Vincent pulled out and sat
down in a chair between them, putting a glass of iced tea down in front
"Oh - Vincent - uh..."
"Hello Amanda." His voice was cold,
mistaking Amanda's surprise for
guilt, not thinking for a second that the last place Amanda would
choose to do anything underhanded - if she would - would be here. The
green-eyed monster is blind as well as dumb.
"Vincent," Paul smiled, sensing
Amanda's discomfort and Vincent's
hostility. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Paul."
"Pleased to meet you," Vincent lied.
"Amanda was just showing me the
catalogue she picked up at The Met."
"Yes. I'm sure."
Amanda's gaze flicked back and forth
with the play of conversation,
like a spectator at a tennis match, as she slowly realised what was
happening. Vincent was jealous. Her eyes widened momentarily, and a
thought crept into
her mind: Time to get even for
Dino and Sam, my Dear. She
turned to him and did her best impression of a puppy dog. "Paul's such
person! The time's just flown by," and, turning back to Paul and
winking so slightly that she thought he may not have seen it,
"Hasn't it, Paul?"
Paul caught the wink and felt
decidedly uncomfortable seeing the effect
that Amanda's game was having on Vincent. But he decided to play along
to a point, and see what she was getting at.
"Oh yes!" he said, staring into her
eyes. "It's been so...stimulating!"
He breathed the word, and immediately felt
Amanda felt a twinge
guilt too at the look on Vincent's
face, but the memory of Vegas firmed her resolve. "Paul was
talking about going out, weren't you Paul?" She reached across
the table and took
his hand in hers. "It should be fun."
Vincent's face darkened even more and he 'accidentally'
knocked their hands apart as he reached for the sugar for his iced tea.
"Amanda, could you
move over a little? There's just not enough leg room here." When
moved over, just out of hand-holding range, Vincent turned and
his legs out.
Paul's eyes widened as he reached
out a hand and stroked the arm of Vincent's coat. "That's nice,
you get it around here?" At that moment he realized
someone was standing over their table.
"John," he said, his face turning red. "Uh, this is my friend Amanda,
and her friend Vincent."
John seated himself across from Vincent and grunted, shooting
Vincent an irritated look. At first glance Amanda took him to be middle
aged, but she soon realised that he was in his mid-twenties, but
prematurely balding, his thinning black hair surrounding a shiny bald
pate like a monk's tonsure..
Paul decided that enough was enough, reached out for John's hand, and
said quietly "Amanda, Vincent, this is my...boyfriend, John." He
blushed a little, not only at the effort and the risk, but also at
having to use such a ridiculous word to describe their relationship and
wishing there was something more dignified.
John turned to Paul, the look on his face posing the obvious question.
Amanda, sensing that John had just played a very dangerous card,
immediately reached out for Vincent's hand. "My husband, actually." She
pulled his hand close to her and looked into his eyes with unmistakable
Vincent, meanwhile, tried furiously to cope with the last few seconds
of information. Paul? John? Boyfriend? What the... Amanda...?
John looked back and forth between Paul and Vincent, wondering
whether there was going to be an explosion of invective or whether Paul
knew these people well enough...
"It's great to meet you, John. Paul's told me all about you," Amanda
offered, hoping to move things in the direction she wanted, and to buy
Vincent a few seconds, confident about how he was going to react but
knowing that he'd need a second or two. She saw John relax a
little and she squeezed Vincent's hand. Vincent had had enough time to
interpret a little of the situation and, feeling Amanda's squeeze,
decided to go along, knowing that explanations could wait. He held his
hand out to John and smiled.
"A pleasure, John. Vincent Lane. "
bedroom was never really dark, thanks to the glow from the neon sign
above the deli across the street. Vincent turned over and glanced at
the clock on the nightstand. Two-fifteen. In the lulls between the
traffic noise that seeped through the window, cracked open to let in
whatever breeze there might be on a hot summer night, he could hear
Amanda breathing. He closed his eyes, and opened them again thirty
seconds later, the thoughts buzzing
around in his head like angry hornets made
it useless to try getting back to sleep. He slipped silently out from
under the single sheet that covered them, and padded the two steps over
to the chair where he'd carelessly tossed yesterday's clothes, looking
back to see that she hadn't stirred. Wind lay sprawled across his cot
in a position that would have been impossibly uncomfortable for an
adult. None of them bothered with nightclothes in this weather and,
picking up the underpants he'd worn yesterday he considered whether it
was worth risking opening the drawer to get out a clean pair, but he
decided against it. The drawer always stuck and it was sure to wake her
up. He gently picked up the jeans and t-shirt, bent down to get the
socks and sneakers from the floor, and walked silently out into the
next room, quietly pulling the door closed behind him.
He dropped the clothes on a chair
and walked over to the fridge (the
light had burned out a week ago and he hadn't got round to replacing it
yet), took out the half-full gallon of milk and poured himself a glass.
He took a deep breath after he finished it, put the glass down quietly
the sink before returning the milk to the darkened fridge, and went
back to put the rest of his clothes.
A stinging bead of sweat ran down
his brow and into his eye. He wiped it away, closed the door and
decided to take the stairs down
flights to the front door of the brownstone apartment block. The street
was quiet for New York, but not deserted. A dark (blue? it was hard to
tell in the dim monochromatic light) Chevy cruised slowly down the
street and Vincent glanced at the driver and his female passenger. Friend?
Daughter? Paid company? he
wondered idly, and turned in the
direction that the car had gone.
The year replayed itself in his mind
as he walked aimlessly
through the New York night. More had happened in that one year than in
the last 20, and he thought of the chance encounter that had led to the
sleeping woman and child he'd left behind, and the new life in her
belly. The encounter with Paul had rattled him more than he cared to
to himself, let alone to Amanda. He realised that, at least in Amanda's
mind, he'd probably deserved what she'd dished out, and perhaps he had.
But that twisting,
angry sensation was a feeling that wasn't just unpleasant, it struck at
the roots of who he was. The worst thing about it was that, somewhere,
deep down, he must still be insecure about Amanda, not completely
He turned right towards the Hudson
River, surprised to hear the faint
sounds of a banjo from the apartment block he was walking past and he
smiled mirthlessly, thinking how pleased the banjo player's neighbours
must be to
be serenaded with Turkey in the Straw
at this time of the morning.
The brownstone apartments gave way
to warehouses as he neared the
river, and he looked
across to the lights on the Jersey shore, thinking about the diner.
Amanda's embarrassed admission that she'd
been trying to get even for the Dino and Sammy thing (even though he'd
done nothing--hadn't thought for a second that she wouldn't have
recognised them); John's even more embarrassed admission that he'd
thought that Paul was coming on to him; his own furious attempts to
take in what had been happening. He smiled again and shook his head.
Amanda had a talent for hooking up with interesting people. He thought
of the way she'd looked at him, at the love in those blue eyes, and
scolded himself for doubting her.
He turned round to head back as a
car horn sounded a few streets away.
was going to be a late night. They'd accepted the offer
to go with Paul and John to the poetry reading at their favourite bar,
and it didn't start until eleven.
He quietly opened the bedroom door.
Amanda hadn't moved. Wind had
turned over and looked a little more
comfortable. He left his clothes where they fell and climbed slowly
into the bed. Amanda grunted and turned over, opening one eye.
"What's up?" she muttered, half
"Sorry," he whispered. "Couldn't
sleep. Went out for a walk."
She opened the other eye. "Is
"Yeah. Everything's just fine." He
smiled, and shuffled closer to her
and kissed her on the forehead. "Go back to sleep".
She smiled back. "What's the time?"
He cocked an eye towards the clock.
"Mmmm, c'mere..." she said,
* * *
The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich
Village was a shabby dive. If it hadn't
been for Paul and John's enthusiastic greeting as they'd walked up
behind them, they probably would have turned around and left. Paul led
them through the main bar into a smoky back room, filled with an
extraordinary mix of people - students, businessmen, young people,
older people - all chatting, drinking, and generally enjoying
themselves. Some were dancing on the small dance floor to the music
from the jukebox in the corner. The only thing that distinguished it
from any other bar was that some of the couples dancing were both men.
Some were men and women and, Amanda noticed with not a little
confusion, some were both women.
John led them to a free table and
sat them down. "The usual, honey?" he
asked. Paul smiled and nodded. "Amanda, Vincent?"
"Beer, thanks," Vincent responded
enthusiastically and Amanda, patting
her stomach, ordered a lemonade.
They looked up to see a tall,
elegantly dressed and, Vincent and Amanda
both thought, absolutely stunning, red-headed woman bend down and plant
a friendly kiss on Paul's lips.
"Carlotta!" Paul grinned. "These are
our friends Amanda and Vincent.
Amanda, Vincent, this is Carlotta."
"Oooh - delighted to meet you,"
Carlotta said. "Amanda? You lucky
thing! Where did you meet this gorgeous hunk?"
Vincent blushed as Amanda, perhaps a
little too quickly, grabbed
Vincent's hand. "It's a long story," she said, "But he is, isn't he?"
"I hope you'll tell me the
story one day," Carlotta said. "Paul,
honey, where's that luscious man of yours?"
Paul nodded towards the Bar where
John was looking back at the table,
waving at Carlotta. She blew him a kiss and, to Vincent's obvious
pleasure, hitched up her ample bosom. "Why is it that all the good
looking ones are taken?"
"I guess they just haven't met you
yet," Vincent said, earning a dirty
look from Amanda, a chuckle from Paul, and a squeal of delight from
"Sweety," she said, turning to
Amanda, "if you ever get tired of him
you let me know!"
Before Amanda could react, John
arrived back with the drinks and a hug
for Carlotta. "What can I get you, Carlotta?" he asked.
"Nothing for me, thanks, honey. I
can't afford to waste any more time
with you couples if I'm going to find myself a hunk of my own, now can
"Carlotta, you're a dreadful old
whore!" John returned, slapping
Carlotta on her firm posterior. Amanda's eyes widened, waiting for
Carlotta to slap his face in return.
"So true", she sighed, "but less of
the 'old' thank you!" She turned to
Amanda and Vincent. "Lovely to meet you, folks, I hope we'll see you
here some more."
"The pleasure was all mine," Vincent
Carlotta smiled, and walked off
quickly, saving Amanda the trouble of
thinking of a reply.
"Wow! Ow!" said Vincent, as Amanda
kicked his ankle.
John laughed. "Don't worry about
Carlotta, she flirts with everyone.
She doesn't mean any harm.
"Mm," Amanda replied. "If you say
so, but she really is beautiful. I
can't believe that she hasn't got a boyfriend."
"Well, it's not so much that," Paul
said, "it's more that she has too
many, if you know what I mean."
"Wow! Ow!" Vincent repeated. "Hey!
Paul laughed. "Amanda - you're
Amanda blushed. "Turnabout's fair
play," Vincent grumbled, bending down
to rub his ankle.
"Well," John added, "it's not as if
you have anything to worry about --
unless, that is..."
"Is what?" Amanda asked.
"Unless Vincent swings both ways is
what he's trying to say," Paul said.
"Swings?" Vincent said.
"Both ways?" Amanda continued.
John and Paul glanced at each other,
then at Amanda and Vincent, then
back at each other, and burst out laughing.
"What?" Vincent asked.
"Oh my dears," Paul said. "I'm
sorry. We just assumed you'd realised..."
"That this is a bar for
the...the..." Amanda blushed again.
"For the camp scene, yes, you told
us," Vincent returned.
"Well, yes." Said John.
"Ohmygod," Amanda said, her mouth
open. You mean..."
Vincent looked Amanda, his face
"Let me put it this way, Amanda
dear," John said, "if you found
yourself in bed with Carlotta you wouldn't be disappointed. Not that
you would - or that she would for that matter."
Paul looked daggers at him. "Oh yes?
And how would you know?"
"One hears stories." John said, with
"Mmm. I certainly hope so!" Paul
said, winking at Amanda. "But we do
owe you both a little background information."
"Uh, yeah," said Vincent.
John pointed to the dance floor.
"You see the couple over there? The
guy with the black hair dancing with the blond?"
Amanda and Vincent looked to where
he was pointing and nodded.
"That's Tony and Felice. Tony's a
guy and Felice is a girl."
"Oh my God!" Amanda said. "You mean
all the rest are boys?"
John and Paul again exchanged
glances and burst out laughing. "No, of
course not - the girls dancing with girls are all girls. But I'd say
that you two, and Tony and Felice, are the
only straights in here tonight."
"What?" Amanda said. "I don't
"Straights - that's what we call
heterosexuals - you know - boys who
like girls and vice versa."
"Oh, I got that, but I mean the
girls dancing with girls. I thought you
were saying that you were all..."
"Homosexuals, dear though we prefer
'gays'," John said.
"I'm confused." Amanda said. "You
said they were girls..."
John and Paul looked at each other
again, but didn't laugh this time.
"Uh, honey, I'm sorry. I'd forgotten." Paul turned to John. "Catholic
boarding school," Then, turning back to Amanda, "The girls are
Amanda sat for a moment in thought,
as she had when Paul had first
mentioned John in the diner. "But...but how do they...?"
John leaned over and whispered in
Amanda turned purple, picked up
her glass of lemonade, and drank
"Here!" Helen fumed, holding Jake at
arm's length by the collar. "Do
something with him! Mellow him out for GOD's sake, before I KILL him!"
"Uh, sure Lavender," Coyote said,
"but, uh, what...?"
Jake looked around, confused.
"I always used to call her that. It's a pretty name," Willow
Helen ignored her.
said through gritted teeth. "He
didn't let me out of his sight for one...goddam...minute!"
"What," said Willow, "even when you
"If I hadn't physically restrained
him he would have!"
"But dammit, Helen, or Lavender,"
whined Jake. "I
"Yes. Yes, I know," Helen said
resignedly, turning to Willow and
Coyote. "He was only trying to look after me. He promised my father..."
"Damn right I did! And not just your
"I KNOW, Jake, but you just CAN'T..."
"Whoa, Whoa, man!" Said Coyote,
gently. "Be cool, be cool! Peace, Jake
man! I'm Coyote, and this is Willow...."
"Peace, man," said Willow, holding
up her right index and second
fingers towards Jake.
"Peace," Jake moaned, returning the
"I think what we need here is a
little headspace, right?" said Coyote
in his most calming voice.
"A little head REMOVAL's what we..."
"Lavender! bad Karma!" said Willow.
"Why don't you two go and check the
place out," Coyote offered, putting
his arm around Jake's shoulders and gently turning him away from Helen
and Willow. "Jakey and me'll get to know each other, maybe smoke a pipe
of peace, eh, Jakey?"
"Uh, yeah, sure," Jake said
uncertainly, turning back to look at Helen
as they walked away.
"It's okay, man, Willow won't let
anything uncool happen to her," he
said, thinking This
guy's tighter than a gnat's ass stretched over a rain barrel. He must
a lot cooler than he seems or Lavender wouldn't have hooked up with him.
Helen stood there, watching him go,
feeling as if a weight had been
lifted off her shoulders.
"Lavender?" Willow asked, "is he as
uncool as that all the time?"
She tore her attention away from
Jake and turned to Willow, shaking her
head. "No. I mean he's certainly got some hang-ups, but it's weird. He
was asleep in the car. I stopped to take a pee and when I got back he
was...like this. He just wouldn't let me out of his sight. He said he
dreamed about my father..."
"Whoa, babe!" Willow interjected! "A
dream? About the Big A?"
Helen smiled, remembering Willow's
expression for her father. "Yeah - I
dunno - something happened to me and he saw my father, screaming at
him, telling him it was all his fault."
Willow gaped. "You know what I
think, man? I think he's had a psychic
"Really?" said Helen, a touch of
scepticism in her voice.
"Oh yeah! I'll make us some yarrow
tea and tell you about it!"
"Oh shit!" Paul said, looking over Amanda's
John turned to see what Paul was looking at and his face fell.
"What?" asked Vincent, looking around and not seeing anything more out
of the ordinary than he already had.
Paul nodded towards two tall men in suits who were walking slowly among
the tables. "Cops. I think we're going to get..."
"Stay where you are, please, everybody. This is Deputy Inspector
Seymore Pine of the New York Police. You know the drill."
"Again," John muttered.
Amanda and Vincent watched in stunned silence as a group of half a
dozen besuited police walked calmly through the door and started
leading people out.
"It's not really much more than theatrics," Paul said.
"It's all so calm!" said Amanda, watching as Carlotta was led out,
seemingly happy to chat to the policeman who was leading her away.
"Somehow it's not how I imagined a raid."
"Yeah," added Vincent, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small
camera. "What do you mean?"
"Will that work in here, I mean without a flashgun?" asked John,
nodding at the camera.
"I might get something. I've got a fast film in it and if I push
it in developing..." he said, surreptitiously firing off a couple of
shots from table level, "I might get something usable."
Paul continued. "It's complicated. The cops are actually pretty good
about it. They're under orders from higher up, and whatever the
politics are, they're not really gunning for us." He picked up his beer
and finished it. "We're the whipping boys for the religious
fanatics and the rednecks..."
"And we're getting damn sick of it," John interjected.
"...but the cops are after bigger fish than us."
"Bigger fish?" Vincent asked, taking another photograph as the police
led one of the bar staff out..
"What happened during prohibition?" John asked rhetorically.
"Organised crime took over the distribution of alcohol," said Amanda.
"Exactly. They're opportunists. We're easy targets for every damn
idiot looking for a fight, And sometimes..."
"Okay you four, outside," said a bored-sounding policeman coming up
behind Amanda and, to her surprise, pulling out the chair for her as
she stood up. She turned to thank him but he'd already turned his
attention to another group. They stood and joined the people being
herded out under the watchful eye of Inspector Pine.
"...for people like Carlotta, it gets..." Paul paused.
"Deadly, " continued John. "You know what happens? No - I 'll bet you
don't," he said. "More times than not, they're raped. And that's before
they're beaten within an inch of their lives, or past it."
"But..." Amanda started.
"But we're attacked because we're filthy homos. Goddam
faggots. Unnatural. Against the laws of God and man. And they rape us."
He shook his head in bewilderment. Amanda saw the anger in his face,
and she saw Paul reach down to squeeze his hand as he turned back to
them. "So we don't - we can't - go to 'normal' bars. And where there's
"Oh, man! I get it!" said Vincent.
"Yeah. Most of the gay bars are run by the Mafia," John muttered.
"Including this one?" Amanda asked.
"Damned if I know," he answered. "Probably. We don't care. They're the
only places where we can be ourselves. The mob doesn't tolerate trouble
in their own joints, and that's good enough for us. I don't care who
runs the place if I can go and have a good time and feel safe doing it
- just like everyone else. I guess the cops get paid off, as usual."
As the crowd spilled out onto the sidewalk Vincent could see that the
transvestites, bouncers, and bar staff were being herded into a
paddy wagon. But the doors were left open and the wagon was unguarded,
so after they'd been unceremoniously shoved in, the cops would go back
to get another group, and the previous group would simply get out, to
the cheers and applause of the gathering crowd. The odd flashbulb
popped as the few members of the press who'd gathered took some shots
for tomorrow's morning edition, and Vincent took a few more of his own,
out in the open about it now.
"See," said Paul. "Theatrics. Tomorrow's papers'll show us being
rounded up in a story about keeping the city safe for decent people.
The politicians keep in sweet with the churches, the papers get
good shots for people to be disgusted over with their morning coffee.
Everybody's happy. And we'll be back tomorrow night as if nothing had
"Except a lot of people are getting plenty pissed about it," John
added. "The Negros did, and they're winning. More and more gays are
talking about not taking it any more."
They watched as a group of the girls who'd just climbed down out of the
paddy wagon lined up in a chorus line and started kicking up their legs
We are the Stonewall girls
We wear our hair in curls
We wear no underwear
We show out pubic hair...
We wear our dungarees
Above our nelly knees!
As they were laughing, there was a sound of breaking glass, and they
looked up to see a second floor window shatter. There was a collective
"ooh" from the crowd as another rock flew overhead and another window
shattered. Within a space of moments the mood of the crowd
"Shit," said Paul, turning to Vincent and Amanda. "Time to go. This is
gonna get ugly."
Vincent looked around. "No - I'm gonna stay and get some photos." He
turned to Amanda. "Honey, get back home - I'll be there soon."
Amanda looked around, then back at Vincent. "No - please. Come with me.
This..." She was jostled from behind.
Paul grabbed her arm. "Come on, I'll come back with you. John - you
coming or staying?"
"I'll stay with Vincent," he said. "He might need someone who knows the
Vincent clasped Paul's shoulder. "Thanks, man - get her out of here."
He kissed Amanda on the cheek. "Get going. We'll see you there.
Paul and Amanda hurried off, leaving Vincent and John to circle around
to the back of the crowd, taking photographs of the increasingly angry
"Oh wow. You know what? I think his ka's been damaged," said Willow,
after Helen had finished telling her about Jake's relationship with his
"His car?" Helen looked puzzled.
"No - his ka," said Willow, sipping her yarrow tea.
"That's what I said," said Helen, who'd decided after the first sip
that she didn't really want to drink anything that tasted like
"No, you said 'car'. I said 'ka' - kay aye - you know - his spirit -
like the Egyptian Book of the Dead?"
"Oh," said Helen uncertainly. "His ka."
"Yeah! The Egyptians really had it sussed. They wrote this book to
instruct the spirit about what to do and what it'd meet on its journey
to the stars."
"I don't think Jake's Egyptian. I think his grandfather was German."
"No, man, everybody's got a ka. And from what you say, I think Jake's
has been damaged." She shook her head. "His old man must be the
reincarnation of someone really evil - like maybe Ghengis Khan, or some
warmonger like that. He needs spiritual healing!"
"Oh!" said Helen.
"And I have just the thing!" She got up and left the room, then came
back a minute later and placed a small object on the table.
"What is it?" Helen asked.
"It's a pyramid of course!"
"Uh, well, I can see that..."
"But not just any pyramid. It's a crystal pyramid! It's really
"Oh yeah! You know about pyramids, don't you? And crystals?"
"Pyramids are soooo cool! They focus cosmic energy! That's why the
Ancients built them. The Ancients were Atlanteans you know! People
think that the Egyptians built the pyramids, but they didn't. Even with
all our technology today it would be impossible for us to build the
pyramids. Oh no - it was the Ancients using psychic powers. And they
built the pyramids to focus the cosmic energy into one tiny spot below
the pyramid. And crystals focus cosmic energy too - you know that the
Great Pyramid used to have a quartz capstone - that's crystal!"
"Oh," said Helen.
"So all we have to do is to get Jake to lie down, and we'll put the
pyramid over his third eye..."
* * *
"This is pretty cool," Jake said. "Who owns it?"
"No-one owns the land, Jake. We're all just custodians, holding it in
"Oh, yeah...of course..."
Grey Wolf, the tall, long-haired and suntanned man who Coyote had
introduced as one of the nine members of the 'Aquarius Commune',
sighed. "Of course not everyone understands that. We have to pay money
to the capitalist who thinks he owns it. One day enlightenment
will come and peace and brotherhood will rule."
"So how do you - you know - how do you get
"We grow stuff. You know - vegetables, herbs. All organic of course.
And we sell it. We're completely self sufficient. We've got goats to
milk and make cheese and yoghurt, fruit, vegetables, all we need."
As they walked around the back of the farmhouse past some outbuildings,
Jake felt something squelch under his foot. He looked down.
"It's cool, man," said Grey Wolf, "it's organic."
As he looked around to find an organic stick to scrape it off, Jake
heard a low chanting.
"Ah, the sisters are out here. We've just finished the summer planting
and they're asking the blessing of the spirits of the land. Come
and meet them, Jake."
"Sure!" Jake said, relaxing a little and warming to Grey Wolf.
He led them round the corner to where a group of five women were
standing in a circle, holding hands. Their eyes were closed and their
heads tilted upward towards the sun, which shone hotly down in
the early midsummer's afternoon, glistening on beads of sweat.
"Give us your blessing, spirits of the land..." said one.
"Spirits of the earth..." added the next.
"Spirits of the air..."
"Of the sun..."
"Of the rain..."
"We give you thanks." they said together, and slowly dropped hands and
opened their eyes, smiling.
"Sisters," said Grey Wolf, "this is Jake, brother of Coyote. Jake and
his lady, Helen, are crashing with us for a couple of days.
Welcome Jake!" one of them said.
"Jake," said Coyote, "this is Clover, Snowflake, Leaf, Lindesfarne, and
They all smiled and welcomed Jake, as Helen and Willow rounded the
corner. Willow introduced Lavender, adding that the boys were in town
getting some supplies as the women left to go back inside.
"Wanna look around the rest of the place?" Grey Wolf asked.
"Later, man," said Coyote. "Right now I wanna let Jake sample some of
the local produce. Join us?"
"Sure, man," he said. "I just need to get the tools back in the shed.
I'll catch you inside, huh?" He put his arm around Jake's shoulder and
gave him a friendly pat on the back. "Good to have you here, man."
"Uh, thanks," Jake stuttered. "Great to be here."
Grey Wolf picked up some gardening tools and walked off with them
towards the toolshed as Jake, Coyote, Willow and Helen walked back
towards the house.
"Um," Jake started. "Do they, um..."
"I think what Jake's trying to ask," Helen said, "is do they
always go around naked?"
"Oh, when they're invoking the spirits - of course! You have to be
close to the land and the air." Willow answered.
"Or when it's hot." Coyote added.
"Hundreds of young men went on a
rampage in Greenwich Village yesterday after a
force of plain-clothes men raided a bar that the police said was well
known for its homosexual clientele. Thirteen persons were arrested and
four policemen injured."
Vincent stopped reading and put the New York Times down on the table.
"I'm just glad none of you were hurt." Amanda said, pouring herself
another coffee as Wind finished his breakfast bottle.
"Me too. It got ugly pretty quickly once the uniformed cops arrived."
"It's started then." Amanda said, getting up to put the breakfast
things in the sink.
"The...marches - the fight. Like the Negros did. Paul said it's been
brewing for years."
"Yeah. I guess it has," Vincent said, smiling. "If you hadn't met Paul
we'd be reading this and wondering what the hell was going on. I'm
going to go down to the Village and see if I can get some get some
shots of the action."
"You know it."
"So whaddayasay, Jake, my man? Care to sample a little of the commune's
finest?" Coyote asked.
He was sitting on a purple vinyl beanbag. Opposite him, Jake had
slumped into a yellow one under a Che Guevara poster while Willow came
out of the kitchen carrying a tray with a teapot and cups, followed by
Helen with a plate of oatmeal cookies.
"Sure," Jake said enthusiastically. "I could eat."
"Eat?" said Coyote, looking a little puzzled.
"Yeah! You're talking about the stuff they grow, right?"
"Oh! Yeah, but I wasn't thinking about eating it, unless those
cookies..." He looked at Willow.
"Straight oatmeal cookies, lover," she said, as Helen put the plate
down on the table.
"No, man - I'm talkin' about the kind o' produce that you smoke," he
said, producing a plastic bag half-full of dried dark green
herbaceous material and putting it on the table.
Jake stared intently at the bag. Helen and Willow exchanged glances.
Coyote pulled a pack of Zig Zag rolling papers out of his shirt pocket.
Suddenly, Jake leapt up out of the beanbag as if he'd been bitten. "Oh
Helen and Willow exchanged another glance. Coyote pulled three papers
out of the packet. "Well, yeah, man. It's cool. You've never smoked
Jake shook his head, nervously eyeing the bag, and glancing at Helen.
"Jake, m'friend," Coyote said, "I'm gonna be straight with you. Seems
to me that you need to mellow out a little. And this," he glanced at
the bag, "is the smoothest stone this side o' the bayou. To be honest,
I think it'd do you a lot o' good."
Jake backed away, staring at the bag, as Coyote stuck the three papers
together and started rolling a joint. On his third step he reached the
arm of the sofa where Helen and Willow were sitting and fell backwards,
landing across Willow's and Helen's laps, staring up into Helen's face.
"But Helen - drugs! What would your father..."
Helen glared down at him. "Smoke it!" she growled.
* * *
Jake reached out and picked
up an oatmeal cookie from the tray. He slowly lifted it to his mouth,
took a bite, and slowly chewed a couple of times. He froze, and his
"Oooohhhh maaannn! This is the best
damn cookie I've ever had! Helen! You've gotta try one of these!" he
said, passing her the plate and taking another for himself.
Helen took one and, like Jake, she
took one and was about to burst into raptures when the unmistakable
clatter of a Kombi van pulling up outside caught there attention.
"Ah - the guys and the kids are
back from town," Willow said, as the door opened and a berry-brown
child with curly strawberry blonde hair ran in and straight up to
"Hello!" he said with a big grin. "I
Sage. Who you?"
"Hi Sage! I'm Jake," he said,
grinning back at the agile child with eyes the colour of a desert
"Dake! Hi Dake! Who you?" he asked,
turning to Helen.
"Lav'ner!" he said happily. "Hi
Wiwwow, hi 'Yote!"
"Hi Sage, buddy!" said Coyote,
holding his arms out and tossing Sage up into his lap as he ran into
them. "Sage and his sister, Saffron, are Anne and Michael's kids. And
that," he said pointing to the door, is Michael."
Michael was an older version of Sage, average height but muscled, with
short, curly sunbleached hair. He carried two full paper bags which he
put down on the table.
"Hi guys. You must be Lavender and Jake. I'm Michael - I see you've
already met Sage. How was your trip?"
"It's only dope, man," said Coyote, giggling.
"Ah yes," grinned Michael, sniffing the air. "Aquarius Ambrosia. Good
"Great," said Jake, staring up at Michael and wondering where he'd seen
"Wonderful," breathed Helen, realising that she was looking at the
spitting image of Michelangelo's David.
Michael looked at the four of them, then at the plate of cookies. "Oh -
Willow's oatmeal cookies - one left for me. Whaddayasay we share it,
buddy?" he said, turning to Sage and breaking the last cookie in half.
"Yeah! Cookie!" said Sage, jumping down from Coyotes lap and taking the
"Am I right in assuming that the munchies have set in?" he asked.
"Munchies?" Jake asked, puzzled.
"Oh wow!" said Michael. "Dope virgins! My friends, you're in luck. I
just happen to have, though you may not know it, the keys to paradise
right here in this bag." He reached into one of the paper bags and
pulled out a chocolate bar. Willow and Coyote giggled as he unwrapped
it, broke off four large pieces and handed them around, then broke of a
smaller piece which he gave to Sage, who took it happily. "Now for the
fun," he said, and sat down next to Willow.
Jake grinned a vacuous grin, half his mind trying to work out where
he'd seen Michael before, half trying to remember that he was holding a
piece of chocolate (which sounded pretty good every time he thought of
it) and the other half thinking (if that was the word) that the world
was a groovy place to be. He slowly lowered his gaze to the chocolate
in his hand and concentrated on raising it to his mouth. He
bit off a square, chewed, and felt all three halves of his mind implode.
Michael watched, grinning, watching Helen watching Jake. Willow and
Coyote, unable to control themselves, started laughing and Jake, his
eyes closed in a paroxysm of ecstasy, heard the laughter, opened his
eyes, and caught the laughing bug.
Helen, meanwhile, had cautiously tried the chocolate. The flavour
exploded in her mouth and her bloodshot eyes widened in surprise. "Oh
my GGGOOOOOOODDDD! " she squealed, prompting another burst of laughter
from Willow, Coyote, and Jake.
"There's nothing quite like
that first dose of the chocolate munchies. I kind of envy you." said
Helen stuffed the rest of the chocolate into her mouth. "Ha' you go'
"No," Michael said, "but I've got something nearly as good. We don't
usually get this crap, but I thought that the dog man might not be able
to resist letting you sample the produce, so I made an exception." He
reached into another of the paper bags and tossed her a large bag of
An hour later they'd moved out onto the porch. The cloying scent of
honeysuckle dribbled down over
them in the still, cooling, air, deliciously spiced by the fading
effects of Aquarius Ambrosia.
Willow and Coyote were sitting on a bench next to Michael and Anne.
Helen was sitting on a step, leaning against a post, totally absorbed in the
sunset that was turning the sky orange and green and golden. Sage's sister, Saffron, a nine
month old toddler with hair the colour of pale honey was busy
exercising her newly-discovered ability to walk by walking as fast as
she could towards the edge of the porch, making Anne jump up and rescue
her every time she got too close for comfort. Jake was lying on his
back, his knees up in the air making a slide for Sage, both of them
laughing and giggling.
Willow rested her head on Coyote's
shoulder, chuckling at Saffron's antics. "Little Wind'll be doing that
"I wonder how they are?" he said.
"Fine. I'd know if there was
anything wrong," Willow answered dreamily.
"Hey," said Michael, showing Coyote
the newspaper that he'd brought back from town. "That creep who they
wanted for the Montana thing's been spotted around here."
Coyote took the paper and read.
"Local police are searching for a man
wanted in connection with the abduction and rape of a woman in Montana two
months ago. A green Pontiac
matching the suspect's was seen at the Dew Drop Inn in Springdale,
Wednesday. "Women travelling alone should be wary of anyone asking
directions and trying to lure them to his car." Sheriff
Michael LeFroy said. "This man is extremely dangerous."
"Bastard," Coyote said, folding the
paper and dropping it.
Sage climbed up on Jake's knees and,
before Jake could reach out to catch him, slid downwards.
"Oooohhh," Jake groaned, sitting up
and grimacing in pain.
"I sorry Dake! I hurt you?" Sage
said, looking worried.
"No," Jake groaned, "it's okay,
partner. But we might play something else for a while I think."
"Okay!" Sage said and ran up to the
sitting Jake, throwing his arms around Jake's neck in an affectionate
hug. "You a daddy too, Dake?"
"Not yet," Jake said, the pain in
his groin overshadowed by a deeper pain, "but I should have been."
The scene in The Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village on the evening of June 27, 1969, was
as accurate as we could make it. The riot that ensued marked the
beginning of the Gay Rights movement in the US.We have no idea what
"nelly knees" are - the song that the women sing is as it was reported.
The quote that Vincent
reads is from the New York Times of June 29 1969, with reference to the
time of the raid (3.00am) removed to fit in with the story.
Stay tuned for the next
Disclaimer: All characters are
MTV except for Willy and his family who belong to us.
Special thanks: to all our
readers: Floopyboo, RLobinske, NMorgendorffer, Gearhead, AhMyGoddess,
TheBootstrapper; The Angst Guy; Brother Grimace
Deref, who typed the
an Australian, so he's used Aussie English spellings and grammar
He may also have inadvertently used some Aussie idioms though he's
to keep in culture.
it? Hated it? Tell Thea
Zara or Deref - please?