Page 31 of Body Count

The music changed again.A voice came scratchily over the speakers as someone announced, “You know what time it is: the Velvet Hour!”The lights changed to pink and purple, leaving deep pockets of shadow.I felt like I’d fallen inside Alice in Wonderland’s vagina.

In a low voice, she said, “That son of a bitch.”

“Has—”

“Eddie told you that?For fuck’s sake.”She took a long drag on the cigarette, and the ember brightened.“He’s his father,” she said, coughing on the words.“You think he’d have a little fucking compassion.”

“Did Tip tell you when he disappeared the last time?”

She didn’t answer at first.She smoked, giving me snake eyes.And then she leaned forward on the stool, grabbing at the kimono with one hand as it slipped again, the other hand drilling the cigarette toward me like she was emphasizing points in a list.“He was a child.He was hurt.He didn’t know what he was doing.He was still figuring himself out.When he came back, I told him I didn’t care who he wanted to fuck.His mother loved him, that’s all that mattered.After that, he knew he could tell me anything.”

The cigarette put a period at the end of that sentence, and her look dared me to contradict her.

“Tip’s lucky to have a mom like you,” I said.

She sank back onto the stool slowly, her gaze still wary, as she fixed the kimono again.

“What’s his relationship like with his father?”

“You talked to Eddie.What kind of relationship is he supposed to have with a sack of shit?”

“How does Eddie feel about Tip being gay?”

She gave a short, scornful laugh and took another drink of her beer.“You know, it actually brought us closer together?Tip and me, I mean.When he came out.”She turned the bottle in her hand.Something about the way she held it reminded me of her husband.“You never saw Tip before—before that happened to him, did you?”

“I’ve seen pictures.”

She shook her head.“He was beautiful.My God.So handsome.He came up here a few months ago.He did that sometimes, just to talk to me, so we could spend time together.He was wearing shorts, and Marla—she’s the woman who owns this place—she told himif he’d had tits, he could have made a fortune dancing.He didn’t stop smiling the rest of the day.But it’s his personality, too.He’s funny.He’s sweet.I remember one day, he was thirteen or fourteen, we were in Macy’s, and I’d sent him to look at shoes while I returned something.”She stopped.A wisp of smoke rose from the forgotten cigarette.“I saw him from the side.In profile, you know.And I thought, ‘Who is that man?’”Her voice thinned.“Do you know what every mother’s worst fear is?”

“My mom’s is sun damage.”

I could have said anything; she wasn’t listening.“Watching their son grow up, raising him, caring for him, loving him, only for some other woman to take him away.When Tip came out, Eddie lost his mind.He started shouting.He was saying the most awful things.I knew I needed to say something.But all I could think was ‘Thank God, thank God.’”She took a deep breath, put on a smile she must have kept in her front pocket, and slouched against the bar.She put her hand on my leg again, and then she drew it up my thigh, applying just enough pressure with her nails to scratch me through my trousers.“Just look at you.How pretty you are.I bet you broke your mother’s heart.”

I took her hand and moved it off my leg.The scratches on my legfelt hot.There were times when my mind played tricks on me.When I thought I could feel the scars on my face, feel each one throbbing like a pulse point.

She drew herself up, her mouth tight.And then she looked me over, relaxed into a smirk, and said, “Ah.”

“How has Tip been lately?”I asked.“His mood, I mean.”

She opened her mouth to answer.I saw her change whatever she’d been about to say.“He wouldn’t do that.”

I took a drink of my beer.

“He wouldn’t hurt himself.”

“Did he say that?”

“He would have told me.We tell each other everything.He tells me about the boys he meets.I told him—” She changed what she’d been about to say again.“I tell him everything too.”

“Has Tip said anything about problems in his life?Recent conflicts?Disagreements?Even something that might have sounded minor at the time.”

“No.”

“You mentioned his personal life.Has he told you about anyone he met recently who worried him?Maybe even made him afraid?”

Lola shook her head.“He’s hurt.He’s recovering.I keep telling him he needs to give himself some time before he gets back out there.He listens to me; he knows I’m right.”

“Mrs.Wheeler, I understand Tip was involved in an altercation here.”

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