Chapter 8 St. Patrick's Day

The Camphor-Christian House-  photo by Jack Miller         

 "Cello," Michael said. 

"How'd you come to play that?" David asked.

"Well, I love the violin. But it is so much easier to get a position playing the cello. I auditioned with the cello, some Schumann, some Dvorak, and got placed with the Savannah Symphony Orchestra last year."

"Nice." David said. Michael was unsure if David meant the position with the orchestra, or the stroking he was doing to Michael's stomach and chest. "I love your instrument." David said, smiling. He kissed the broad nipples of Michael's smooth, bronze chest.

Michael and David had met at Feelgood's. They had talked and danced for an hour or so. David invited Michael to his father's homey office on Oglethorpe Ave. They were stretched out on the oriental sofa.

David moved up along the couch and kissed Michael softly. " I love your lips. The lips of Jimi Hendrix, full of passion."

"And I love your prickly red beard."  Michael lifted his legs around David, clinging their bodies together. They fucked a second time. "Now I know why people in Savannah love St. Patrick's Day," Michael said.

The two young men spent the entire night in the office. It was the weekend before St. Patrick's Day. David felt that having good gay sex in the law office was the fitting way to respond to his father's triumph over gays in the courtroom. Michael was also the antidote to Eddie and Brian. David had had his fill of straight men willing to be worshiped. Michael returned his affection and nothing was off limits.

March winds, warm from the southwest,  had swept away the gray, damp skies of February.  They blew away, for the moment, the stench of the bag factory and the memory of the trial of Lane Russell.  After all, Reeve Heidt had few friends.  He was no gay hero.  His estranged family, living in Florida, did not come for his burial in the paupers’ cemetery.  Tim and Kolby received Reeve’s share of Dr Feelgood's, of which the Florida relatives wanted no part.  His debts to the Dixie Mafia, whatever they may have been, were canceled with his life, and finally, his memory.

As spring once again opened the azaleas and the dogwood flowers, new relationships were blooming, as old ones decayed. As David and Michael entwined, Charlotte broke the news of her departure to Susan.  By June she would be singing in a little jazz club in midtown Atlanta.  Charlotte would also audition for the Academy Theater there.  She was thrilled at the prospect of a new life in the big city.  Susan was crushed.  She was not surprised.  She had heard talk of Atlanta for months and had foreseen their separation.  She cried, nonetheless.  Charlotte held Susan in her arms and rocked her, but she didn’t ask Susan to come to Atlanta with her.  She didn’t even make the offer of friendship.  It would have rung false, and Charlotte had too much integrity.

“I shall leave too,” Susan sobbed.  “I’ll go to New York.  It’ll toughen me up.”  She tried to laugh through her tears.  Charlotte smoothed her hair.  “My Aunt Alice has said she could get me a job.  She lives on Long Island, you know.”

“Yes,” Charlotte whispered.  “You’ll do well in New York.  Savannah is stifling you.”

Their phone rang.  “Don’t answer it,” Charlotte suggested.  But Susan wiped away tears and took the receiver off the hook.

“Hello.”

“Susan?”

“Yes.”

“It’s David.”

“Oh.  Hi.”

“You sound like you have a cold.”

“Yes, I do.”

“I just wondered if you and Charlotte are going to Kilpatrick’s party?”

Susan put her hand over the mouthpiece and consulted Charlotte.  “Are we going to Kilpatrick’s?  It’s David.”

“Do you want to?” Charlotte asked.

Susan nodded yes.

“Let’s go, then.”

“David?  Yes, we’re going.  What time?”

“I thought maybe you two would like to come to my place first and we can walk over.”

“Sure.  How about 6?”

“See you then.”

Susan turned back to Charlotte.  “We’re to meet at David’s at 6.”

It was a balmy Saturday evening.  Orange and pink cirrus clouds colored the sky.  David was in good spirits.  He took Susan’s arm on one side and Charlotte’s on the other.  “I actually have Wednesday off,” David said,  “So I can watch the exciting parade, all three hours of it.”

“I’ll be working at Walden’s” Charlotte replied.  “On the other hand, your mother will be celebrating with you.  She scheduled herself off.”

“I think she’d quit before she worked on St Patrick’s Day,” David laughed.

Dr. Kilpatrick’s stone house rose before them on Charlton Street.  Eddie and Sharon stood looking down from the front porch over the sidewalk.  Eddie always looked guilty when he saw Susan, as if the failure of their relationship was his fault, somehow.

Eddie also was afraid of what David might say in Sharon’s presence.  He had explained to her that David was gay, but not his direct experience of that fact.  He greeted David with a shit-eating smile.

The high-ceiling interior of Kilpatrick’s Regency house was jammed with instructors from Armstrong Humanities departments.  English, History, and Philosophy predominated.  Dr. Landry waved to David.  Susan gravitated toward Langston, with whom she had bonded during Streetcar, and Charlotte continued to chat with Eddie and Sharon.

Dr. Honeycutt, the one member of the Physics department at the party, explained to Kilpatrick how the recent manned probes had confirmed Einstein’s theory of relativity.  “The sun’s mass slowed the signals from the satellite,” Honeycutt explained, “exactly as Einstein predicted.”

“I’m afraid most of us here are still trying to master Newton,” Kilpatrick replied.

“If not Ptolemy,” Dr. Brown threw in.

A vast spread of food on Kilpatrick’s shining cherry dining table offered corned beef and cabbage, Irish stew, and plenty of cheese and fruit.  A large tub of Harp beer and a side bar with ample whiskey kept the guests in good cheer.  Landry sipped a Jameson on the rocks.  David helped himself to a beer.

“You heard, didn’t you,” David said, “That Lane Russell is back in jail?”

“I read it in the paper this morning,” Landry answered.  “Corky got him on a violation of his probation.”

Lane’s admission of cocaine use on the stand was just cause for revoking his parole.  He would serve out almost a year of his previous sentence for drug possession.

“I wonder if Dad realized he would be sent back to jail for that testimony,” David mused.

“So, I hear you’re sold your house.”  Kilpatrick greeted Landry.  He shook hands with David.  “And Don tells me you are off to Tulane next year.”

“I’ve had an offer.”  Landry answered the first question.  “We have a way to go yet.”

“And I have yet to hear about financial aid,” David said.  “But I’m hopeful.  There’s a good chance I can receive a University scholarship.”

“What are you doing later?” Landry asked David.

“Susan and I are going to the Sara awards.  Want to join us?”

“You know how much I detest drag.  I’ll pass.”

“We could all meet at Pinkies afterwords.  Or come to the basement after midnight when the show is over.”

“Let’s leave it to chance.  I’m not sure I even want to venture out tonight.”

“O.K.”  David was disappointed.  Yet, he was also glad Landry hadn’t pinned him down.  He wanted to get drunk and to let the night evolve without a plan.  He looked forward to the spectacle of the Sara awards with its drag performances and satirical awards to the more infamous members of Savannah’s gay elite.  “I may wind up at Dr Feelgood's for that matter,” David said.  “I feel like excess.”

“I see,” said Landry, taking another sip of scotch.

Two hours later, David and Susan bid Charlotte goodbye in front of her apartment on Liberty Street.  Charlotte kissed them both goodbye, David who had been her boyfriend and Susan who had been her best friend.  She felt lonely and thought how odd it was that the two of them were good friends themselves, now.   For Charlotte, the move to Atlanta could not come too soon.

As they walked the few blocks to the Basement bar, passing the new Hilton Hotel on Bull Street and the now infamous Derenne Towers,  Susan took David’s arm.  “If we weren’t both queer, what a great couple we’d make.”

David laughed.  “We’ve both been jilted by our lovers and our best friends.  Eddie belongs to Sharon and Charlotte is off to Atlanta.  Our dreams of a happy foursome are shattered.”

“And in a few months, you go to New Orleans and I go to New York.  Will you write me?  Promise you’ll keep in touch.”

“Of course.  I’ll write you every week.  And I’ll come to New York to see you in a play.”

“You’d better.”

The Basement was crammed.  They had to stand in a short line for several minutes on the steps down the sidewalk into the basement of the Armory building.  Inside was a warm, smoke-filled interior of dazzling lights and loud music.  Streamers, confetti, blinking strings of lights, and wall-to-wall shamrocks, leprecauns, and other St. Patrick’s Day decorations filled every nook of the bar.  The packed-in crowd gathered, standing around a small stage where the emcee announced the prize for most impressive newcomer to the gay scene: Jim Williams, entrepreneur and benefactor of good causes.  But Jim Williams was not there to receive his prize, a glass trophy with the award and his name etched in.  One of Williams’ acquaintances took the prize for him and promised to deliver it immediately.

Prizes were awarded between drag acts, show music, and dancing.  Susan and David pushed their way through to the bar and ordered drinks.  Sitting at the bar, David noticed a familiar face, Rosemary Daniel, sipping a vodka tonic.  “The famous author, right here in our midst,” David joked.

At first Rosemary had no idea who David was.  “You know,” David coaxed, “We talked at Lee Johnson’s soiree.”

“Oh yes,” Rosemary slurred.  She smiled her inviting grin.  “Now all I need is a lover to share my ‘sexcess’ with, some hunky military type.”

“You’re in the right place to find that,” David said, gesturing toward the swirl of drag queens and gay lovers.

“No straight men here, are there?” Rosemary replied, hoping David might contradict her.

Susan and David met several friends during the ceremony.  Langston appeared and told them he planned to leave Armstrong for England. 
"You must," Susan encouraged. "That is what we all need, a new nourishing soil to grow in. I am eager to move to New York."

Lee Johnson was also present, flailing about, telling everyone in his shrill voice, “This shit is as Irish as my ass.  When I finish restoring my house on Julian Street, I am going to the real Ireland to live.”

David wondered why everyone wanted to leave, all of a sudden.  “Will anyone be left here when we all go?” he asked Susan.

“Eddie and Sharon.”

“Right.  And my Dad.”

“And me.”  Wanda Tucker added, another high school friend of David.

“Are you a drag fan also?” David asked, surprised to see her in the Basement.

“Honey, I was born a fag hag.”  Wanda winked and took another swig of her martini.

“And the Greek Position Award goes to,” the loudspeaker announced, “Our esteemed, supportive mayor—John Rousakis.”

Applause.  But no mayor.  A city hall minion accepted on his behalf.

As Susan and Wanda talked of awards to come, David made his way to the men’s room.  Waiting on the limited facilities, David saw Brian.

“For someone’s who’s not sure he is gay, you sure make the scene,” David said.

Brian smiled.  When, a few months ago he had accepted David’s invitation to come home with him from Dr. Feelgood's, he had told David that he was uncertain of his sexual identity.  “Physically, you know, I go for broads.  But after sex, I have nothing to say to them.  I like spending my time with guys.”

They had talked and drank beer almost all night.  Just as David was about to show him the door, Brian had suggested they sleep together.  “Just sleep.  No heavy sex or anything,” Brian had said as he took off his clothes.  They had slept naked in each other’s arms and jerked off together in the morning before going out for brunch.  Brian clearly loved being coddled and massaged. 

“I’ve been meaning to come by your library,” Brian said.  “You know, I really enjoyed spending the night with you.”
David recalled Friday night with Michael and the pure enjoyment they had had. Nonetheless, he still had a tender spot for Brian. "Yea, me too."

_____

Don Landry had no use for St. Patrick’s Day.  The weekend had been a bore, the bars overcrowded, The Basement overrun with drag queens, Pinkies awash with trash.  Landry had gone to the office lounge, downed a couple of scotches, and gone home.  Now it was St. Patrick’s Day.  Class was canceled.  He had slept late and was taking an afternoon stroll in the park.  Remnants of the parade littered the area, but most people had gone to River Street.  Landry sat on a park bench and smoked a cigarette.

“Gotta cigarette?”  A tall black man, looking like a basketball player in t-shirt and shorts, emerged from behind one of the oak trees.

“Yes,” Landry said, shaking the pack and letting the man select one.  He took two.  “Do you live around here?”

“Who wants to know?”  The young man appeared angry or suspicious.

“Well, I live here on the park,” Landry said.  “I just want to know if you’re a neighbor?”

The man laughed as if Landry must be a fool to think he lived on Forsyth Park.

“What’s your name?  Mine’s Don,” Landry offered.

“Jim,” The man said.

Landry looked at the man’s glistening arm muscles.  He must be a construction worker, Landry thought.  “What kind of work do you do?”

Again, Jim looked at Don with suspicion.  Why was this scrawny, middle-aged man asking him all these questions?  What did he want, anyway?

“I’m a mechanic,” Jim replied.  “Does your car need some work?”

“Not now,” Landry said, “But you never know.”

Jim laughed again.  He was beginning to figure Landry out.  “What do you do?”

“I teach.”

“Where at?”

“Armstrong College.”

“What you teach?”

“English.  Philosophy.”

Jim laughed again.  “Big brain, huh?”

“You might say that.”  Landry too laughed.  Then Landry got up his nerve.  “Can I buy you a drink somewhere?”

“You gonna buy me a drink?” Jim said, amazed.

“Sure.  Why not?  It’s St. Patrick’s Day, right?”

Jim led Landry to a small bar on West Broad Street.  Landry was the only white person there, but the bar was almost empty.  Two men around thirty sat at the old oak bar, not looking at the newcomers.  The bartender acted as if Landry’s presence was nothing odd.  “Just give me a bourbon, nothin’ in it,” Jim requested.

From the bar, Landry led him back to 24 West.

My wife wouldn’t like knowin’ what we’ve been doin’,” Jim said after the sex.  She don’t like me shootin’ my nut with anyone but her.”

Landry lay back on the bed.  He was spent, breathing heavily.  Jim had satisfied him thoroughly.  It astonished Landry that otherwise straight black men, unlike the preppy white boys of Armstrong, could whole-heartedly engage in oral and anal sex without a qualm.  So long, that is, that they were the active partner.

“You have a wife?” Landry managed to ask, low interest.

“We been married three years.  Got rent to pay.  She’s gonna have a baby soon.”

Landry was skeptical.  It was clear that Jim wanted money.

Landry got up, dressed, walked to the study.

“I can lend you twenty dollars, if that’ll help.”

“Twenty!”  Jim laughed.  “Twenty won’t buy groceries.  Fifty would help more.”

Landry opened a desk drawer and took out fifty dollars.  Jim saw the drawer full of money and was tempted to take it all, to teach this scrawny homo that he couldn’t take advantage of Jim.  But he hesitated and the moment passed.

“Give me your phone number,” Landry requested, giving his to Jim.  “And call me whenever you want to get together.”  Landry wrote Jim’s phone number in his address book.

Landry locked the front door as Jim headed back to Forsyth Park.

____

Lafayette Square was packed with spectators.  The Kleins had arrived en masse, Andreas and Eva, Andy’s three brothers and sister, Eva’s sister, and Andreas’ mother.  David and Eddie had no trouble finding them in the usual place, directly across Abercorn Street from the crowded Hamilton-Turner House.  Andreas introduced Marlene Ubelee, Eva’s older, more serious sister, to David, Eddie, and Skip, who appeared with a mug of beer in his hands.

“You’re drinking at ten in the morning?” Marlene asked Skip.

“That’s what you do on St. Patty’s Day,” Skip answered.

As usual the parade was late.  Everyone had time to stand in line at nearby Pinkies for beer or Bloody Marys.  Betty Bagby and Lee Johnson joined the group.  Betty patted her new hairdo, color by Crystal.  “I can’t believe you’re going to watch this….”  She almost said ‘fucking parade” but caught herself when she saw Andreas’ mother Carol Klein.  “This whole boring parade,” Betty concluded, switching then to her best manners.  “Mrs. Klein, I haven’t seen you in I don’t know when.”

“Hello Betty,” Carol Klein said.  “It’s good to see you again.  We always enjoy seeing David and Skip when we are in Savannah.”

“David, run over to Pinkies and buy Mrs. Klein a Bloody Mary,” Betty ordered her son.

“No, no,” Carol Klein protested.  “This is too early for me.”  She admired Betty’s abandon.

“I’d be glad to get you one.  I’m already going for drinks,” David offered.

“Well, I appreciate it.”  Mrs. Klein smiled.  “I think I’ll wait until after the parade.”

Andreas’ brothers, too young to drink legally, were taking sips from Skip’s mug.

“Come on, Betty.”  Lee Johnson tugged at Betty’s green sweater-vest.  “Sixpence will be too crowded to find a seat.”

“Have you been having a good St. Patrick’s?” Eva asked David.

David smiled.  “Not a dull moment.”  He thought of the weekend, the Sara Awards, and Brian’s tight naked body in his bed for two consecutive nights.  Brian had even sucked his dick, wanting, as he had said, “to see what it’s like to do it.”

“The most fun I’ve had in a long time,” David added.

“Oh yeah?” Andy asked.  “What have you been doing?”

“Too much partying, that’s all.”  David saw that all the Kleins were listening.  Brian had said he would come to the square later that morning, and David wondered how the Kleins would respond to him.  “You just may meet one of my party friends later today.”

Eddie listened with disapproval.  “Who is your party friend?”  He said the last two words with emphasis on euphemism.

“You’ll see,” David answered.  “By the way, where is Sharon?”

“She dislikes parades.  We’re going to a party later this evening.”

Eddie had told David earlier that Sharon had missed her period.

The parade was fun for the first hour.  Green goats walked among minor politicians.  (The big names like Carter and Nunn appeared only on election years.)  Andreas’ favorite float was a dragon full of Shriners that stopped in front of the Hamilton-Turner House where Savannah’s best were gathered five deep up the front steps.  Andreas also loved the Eastern Shriners dressed in multi-colored Arabic costume and led by a dancing sheik with a large ruby in his bloated belly-button.

Andreas’ thin teenage brothers laughed at the Keystone Kops.  But after an hour, the first third of the parade, everyone was ready to walk.  “I’ve had enough military units and bad high school bands,” Eddie said as they all walked past Pinkies toward Bull Street.  The parade had not yet reached Bull and Liberty nor the Sixpence, where Lee Johnson was already screeching and Betty Bagby was telling total strangers about her days as a WAC.  “Once I almost got raped by a taxi driver taking me back to the base,” Betty said, puffing on her cigarette.  The young couple she was telling her story  laughed and stared at her wide-eyed.  They wondered if they should be laughing.

“Anyway, I convinced him I was a lesbian.”  Betty waved her arm.  “I did the whole nine yards, crying, telling him I was in love with this lieutenant who was a gorgeous red-head, but was afraid to return my affection.  He bought it all.  He gave me the ride for free and said he was really sorry for me.”  Betty no longer remembered exactly what the driver had said.  She just recalled a fat redneck making a pass at her and revulsion so severe that she had wondered, at the time, if she in fact was a lesbian.

Just in time to demonstrate her heterosexuality, Betty pointed out her sons David and Skip.  They were passing in front of the plate glass windows with all the Kleins in tow.  By the time they reached Oglethorpe Ave, the parade was headed right for them down Bull Street.  “Why don’t we take a bathroom break at Dad’s office,” David suggested.

“I’ll pick up a twelve-pack at the 7-11, if you want,” Skip offered.

Eddie and Andreas contributed money.  Mrs. Klein, one of Andreas’ brothers, and his sister decided to walk to River Street instead.

The remainder of the group gathered in the upstairs office of Will Jackson.  David opened the door to the small balcony, from which the parade could be seen still plodding up Abercorn along Colonial Cemetery.  A float with a gigantic bar of Irish Spring Soap was passing by.

“Where is your dad?” Andreas asked.

“He and Patty are safe in the suburbs,” David answered.

Skip arrived with beer.  Eddie sat on the balcony and stripped off his shirt in the warm sunshine.  David did likewise.  The teenage Kleins asked if the balcony could hold them all and David said, “I guess we’ll find out.”  Andreas showed Eva and Marlene the unique split staircase to the attic.  He explained to them the two hundred year history of the house.  Skip found an eight-track tape of Elton John and played it on his father’s player.

As discussion turned to when they should all head to the river, Brian appeared on the sidewalk below the balcony.  “I thought I’d find you party animals here!” he yelled.

“Who’s that?” the teens asked.

“Brian.  He’s a friend of mine from the College,” David answered.

Brian entered the office.  David had given him the tour two days ago.  “Levon.  Levon likes his money…” Brian sang with Elton.  He hopped up the curved steps to the second floor. 

“You must be David’s bro?  Skip, right?”
  
“Yeah.  Who are you?” Skip asked.

Brian introduced himself to the crowd.  He added an extra “my pleasure” to his exchange of names with Eva and with Marlene.  Marlene gave him a firm look of disapproval.

“I take it you’d like a beer?” David offered.  He had come in from the balcony.

“Mighty kind of you sir, seeing as my bottle of Jack Daniels is empty,” Brian replied.

“We waited for you in the park for an hour,” David said.

“Yeah.  Sorry.  I couldn’t get away until now.”  David didn’t pursue the reason.

Brian looked out of the door to the balcony.  David introduced him to Eddie.  “Oh yeah, David’s told me all about you.”

Eddie smiled his crooked smile.  “All good, I’m sure.”

“I think we need to go,” Marlene said.  

“Come on, come on,” David ordered.  “Marlene is right.  We need to go get some food in our stomachs and walk to the river.”

On the sidewalk, Eddie bid the group goodbye.  He had plans for later, he said.  He hoped to see the Kleins again before they left for Asheville.  David walked Eddie to the end of the block – it was several blocks to his car.
 “Do you think she’s pregnant?” he asked Eddie.

“I don’t know.”

“What will you do?”

“She’s Catholic.  I’m sure she’ll have it.”

“Abortion is too unsafe and risky anyway.”

“Can you imagine me as a father?”

“No,” David said.

“In June I’ll have a degree,” Eddie replied.  “I’ve had a job offer in the real estate company where my brother-in-law works.”

“It sounds like you’ve got it all planned.”

“Right.  Anyway, I’ll keep you informed.  It really is too early to tell anything.”

“Call me this weekend,” David said.

“We should go to a movie.”

“Good idea.  We still haven’t seen Easy Rider.”

By sunset the group disbanded.  They had walked among the crowds on Bay Street and the bars along the river.  David had taken them into the Ola Wyeth library, to which he had keys, for a private view overlooking the river.  Skip had left the group first, heading for a new dance bar called Woody’s on the west end of River Street.  Brian had drifted off as well.  The Kleins clung together but failed to meet up with Andreas’ mother or siblings.  “We need to head back to my uncle’s house for dinner,” Andreas said, taking leave of David.

“I guess I won’t see you again until the summer,” David said.  “You’re going back to Asheville tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah.  I’ve already skipped classes.  I don’t want to jeopardize graduating.”

Left alone, David could think of only one place to go.  He hadn’t seen Don since Kilpatrick’s weekend party.  David walked home and phoned.

When the phone rang, Landry thought of not answering.  Jim had left only a half-hour ago, and he was dead tired.  He had dozed in his armchair listening to Eric Satie.  On the fifth ring, just as David was about to hang up, Landry answered.

“I’m glad you’re home,” David said.  “Have you had a good St. Patrick’s?”

“I’ve been fairly successful in avoiding it,” Landry replied.

“If I promise not to talk about it, will you invite me over?”

“Yes.  But you need to give me an hour to rest and have some supper.”

“Perfect,” David said.”

An hour later, exactly, David rang the doorbell.

“You look exhausted,” Landry said when he saw David.

“The last few days have taken their toll.  Too many people, not enough sleep, too much liquor.”

“How about some coffee, then?”

“Love some.”

“So who have you been exhausting yourself with?” Landry asked.  “Have you been with Jules?”

“No.  Not at all.  Didn’t I tell you ?  Jules is in Atlanta trying to get a job with Wilkes-Bashford.  He wants to help manage a store in San Francisco.”

“Really?  Is there a good chance he’ll get the job?”

“I think so.  You know, he does window design and has a lot of experience in sales.  Plus, he can put on a suit and look the part of fashion designer.”

“And what happened to your relationship?”

“Nothing,” David answered.  “We’ve drifted, you might say.  I’ve been sleeping with Brian from the Yeats class. And more recently, Michael Finn from the Savannah Symphony. He plays cello."
David wondered if he sounded too promiscuous.

“Brian?”  Landry was amazed.  “I didn’t know he was gay.”

“He’s not.  He’s having an identity crisis – or maybe it’s just experiment.”

“Or maybe he likes your attention,” Landry suggested.

“Yes, he loves being worshiped.”

“Who doesn’t?” Landry laughed.

“Anyway,” David said, “There’s not much future in it.  It’s only a matter of time before some girl catches his eye and he disappears. Not too sure about Michael, either. Though I love listening to him practice. He's very talented."

Landry smiled. "Well, I've had my own St. Patrick's Day adventure."  He recounted the meeting in the park, giving David some of the juicy details.

“You know, that sounds pretty risky,” David said, after allowing Landry to dwell on the pleasures of the encounter.  “He could have robbed you, or worse.  You ought to explore the person’s character more before you invite them here.”

Landry disliked David’s preaching.  “Why?  Because he’s black?”

“Of course not.  Michael is black, you know. It's because you have to size people up, know them a bit. he could be anything: a thief, a drug addict, desperately poor.  You always see the best in people and overlook their evil.”

Landry thought about that. Material things mattered little to him, but the violation of trust was crucial.

“I know.  I do take too many risks,” Landry conceded.  “Perhaps there’s not much to life without taking risks.  But I should do a better job getting to know potential tricks, at least finding out a little about their living conditions.”

“And not inviting them home on the first meeting,” David suggested.

Landry was sitting on the settee, and David rose from his chair to sit beside him.  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.  You’re the best friend I have right now.”

“I thought Eddie was your best friend.”

“’Was’ is the word,” David replied.  “All he can think about now is Sharon.  Do you know she may be pregnant?”

Landry wasn’t surprised.  “Haven’t they taken precautions?”

“Eddie said he pulled out.  Apparently not soon enough.  He loses his hard-on when he uses rubbers.”

And she doesn’t take the pill?”

“I think she wants to be pregnant, myself.”

“Will they get married, do you think?”

“Probably.  But I don’t really believe Eddie is the marrying type.  I’d bet he would sleep with Susan in a minute if she would let him.  Monogamy isn’t his natural state.”

“Monogamy is a woman’s means of making a man a responsible father and provider,” Landry suggested.  “Among men it is meaningless.”

David didn’t agree, but he kept silent.  He allowed Landry to hold his hand.  Tired enough to sleep, he put his head on Landry’s shoulder and dozed as Don stroked his long hair.