CHAPTER EIGHT

“Whoa, you look like shit.”

Peter rubbed the sleep from his eyes and squinted at their downstairs neighbor, Lee Appel—known affectionately to his friends as Lorelie Lee.

“Thanks, I love you too,” Peter said, yawning. “What’s up?”

“Well, I thought you were. I heard all this galumphing around up here, so I brought you some of my come-again-on-the-tapioca cake, a generous slice of which I will trade for a cuppa. What’s this?”

He swished past Peter and snatched up the yellow dress from the floor. “Mother of Pearl, would you look at the size of this! I know it’s Halloween, but what were you going as, a Peterbilt in drag?”

“It’s for a large woman,” Peter said.

“A large woman? Honey I could get in here with two of my sisters and still have room for bumpies.”

“Bumpies?”

That earned him a withering look “Bumping genitals together, to put it in delicate words. It’s what two girls do in bed. Or two Nellie queens. Sweetie, this could not be for the lovely Teri. Don’t tell me you’ve got a circus job.”

Peter sighed. “What I have got is a problem,” he said. He hesitated, embarrassed to try to explain. But he had to unburden himself to someone, didn’t he? His head was practically bursting with everything banging around inside it. And in a sense, this was Lee’s kind of thing. He dressed in drag all the time. He was wearing a lavender peignoir just at the moment. Who better than him to understand; or, if not understand, at least to offer a sympathetic ear?

“Come on, let’s get that coffee brewing,” he said. “I need to talk.”

“And aside from tush, waistline and bust, I am practically nothing but ears,” Lee said, following him into the kitchen and savoring, as he always did, the curves of his friend’s shapely bottom.

He sighed wistfully, but with no real hope. If only....

* * * *

Peter told it all, from the vial and the syringe left in the lab and his accidentally pricking himself, and that strange cat in the cage, to the street punks, the Moes; from the stash of makeup he had “purchased” at For The Girls, to The Copa Club and the run-in with Caleb Wald, and the destruction at the lab and those men who had accosted him there.

“And then there’s the dresses,” he concluded. “The one in there, and there is another one in the armoire, and for all I know, a new one on the sewing machine, and it must be me who’s making them, it sure isn’t Grimalkin. And on top of everything else, I am out of a job. How am I going to explain that to Teri? How am I going to explain any of it?”

Lee had sat in silence throughout the story, nodding his head occasionally or pursing his lips. Now he sighed loudly. “Are you pulling my leg or is my garter too tight?” he asked when Peter had finished.

“Does that sound like something I could make up?” Peter asked.

“No. No, I suppose not,” Lee agreed. “You are creative, sugar, but not that creative. Anyway, I think I remember, there was something in the paper this morning, about that business outside The Copa.”

“There was? What did it say?” Peter asked, excited.

“I don’t remember exactly, I didn’t pay much attention. I was looking for Macy’s sale ads. Let me go get the paper.” Lee pushed the plate with the coffee cake toward Peter. “Eat, keep up your strength,” he said, “I’ll be right back.”

He returned in a few minutes, carrying a folded newspaper. “I thought I remembered this,” he said, sitting back down at the kitchen table. “Here it is, on page two. I didn’t think much of it when I read it. I mean, other people attack drag queens so often, I just thought it was sauce for the gander when I read it. ‘Drag Queen Assaults Couple’,” he read aloud. “‘Victim says man in drag looked like Godzilla in a cheap blue dress’.”

“Cheap?” Peter exploded. “That fabric cost thirty-nine ninety five a yard, and that was on sale. Regular price was....”

“The interesting thing is,” Lee said, “They make this Drag Thing out to be the villain, like he was the assailant, and not the way you told it.”

“I will admit, the sequins do cheapen it somewhat,” Peter said, “But the ruffles add a little....”

“Get a grip would you?” Lee snapped. “There is something more important here than a dress” He rolled his eyes and slapped himself on the cheek. “Merciful Minerva,” he gasped, “Who would ever have thought to hear those shallow words coming from my mouth?”

He gave Peter a speculative look. “I don’t suppose you would want to say Shazzam or whatever it is you do to turn into this Franken-drag? I would sort of like to see her for myself.”

“But I don’t know how to do it. It just happens on its own, I think,” Peter said.

“Hmm. I’ll bet it would scare the pee out of the ladies at the hospital tearoom if you went off at the wrong time. Though to be frank some of those girls would be happy to have a man go off at any time and in any fashion.”

“I’m scared, Lee,” Peter said earnestly. “Am I going to remain this...this Alley Thing forever?”

“Well, it doesn’t seem like a real tragedy, if you ask me. It just means you’ve got a secret life.”

“Not a very nice one,” Peter said.

“That is part of the fun of having a secret life, sugar. Anyway, If you want my opinion, we are all of us alley things, some of us just clean up better than others. What I do not get here is, why the drag routine? I mean, why you in drag?” He tossed the newspaper aside and gave Peter a long, measuring look. “Okay, now, tell the truth and shame the devil, sweetie, is this something you have pondered before? Putting on a dress, I mean?”

“Well, I kind of....” Peter stammered and turned red.

“I thought so,” Lee said with a nod of his head. “To be perfectly frank, I sort of sometimes wondered, well, you know, with the dresses and all. I mean, it’s not exactly he-man stuff, is it?”

“I am not gay, Lee, I swear I’m not, I’d tell you if I were,” Peter said. “It’s just that dresses, and women’s things, they, they fascinate me, they always have, even when I was a little boy. I used to pore over my mother’s fashion magazines the way some boys read car magazines. But except for a frilly little apron and some of Teri’s Chanel Number Five, I have never put anything on before, really. It’s just something I have dreamed about for years. I was afraid if I told anyone, they would think, well, you know.”

“That you were gay?” Lee finished for him. “Pish posh. Drag and gay are not the same thing at all. You would be surprised how many men I have known who wear silk panties under their jeans. Real men, I’m talking here, boots and construction helmets, all the butch stuff. The tranny world—that’s transgender to you—comes in all sizes and colors and flavors, and every conceivable sexual orientation. Transsexuals, drag queens, drag kings....”

“Drag kings?” Peter said, puzzled.

“That’s women who dress up as men. You really are an innocent, aren’t you? I can see we are going to have to do some educating. But the point I was getting at is, maybe this stuff, whatever it was, this Alley Thing business, maybe it does not altogether change a person. Maybe it just takes what is already in there, so to speak, and, like, blows it up, in a manner of speaking. You secretly wanted to put on a dress, you accidentally get a shot of this stuff, whatever in Heaven’s name it is, and poof, you are a Drag Thing. If you were into hairy guys, you might have turned into a Teddy bear.”

“You may be right, but I don’t see how that is going to help me,” Peter said with a sigh. “Golly, things couldn’t possibly get any worse for me, could they?”

“Oh, honey, things can always get worse, trust me.” Peter looked so utterly crestfallen, though, that Lee relented a little. “Look, since you have asked for my advice, I would say the very first thing we have got to do is find those two women doctors and tell them what has happened. They are the ones who brewed this up, aren’t they? They should either fix it or bottle it, in which case I am making a mental list of people I could spoon it to. I mean, think what it could do to someone who is secretly a sex maniac. I have this one trick...well, never mind, that’s a different story. Do you have any ideas where to start looking for these women?”

“One of them was in a coma,” Peter said. “They took her to a hospital. Saint Maria Alfonso’s, I think it was.”

“Well, that rules her out, at least until she comes around, if she does. And that could be years, knowing that hospital. What about the other one?”

Peter shrugged. “I don’t have a clue where she could be. It must have been her who demolished the lab, mustn’t it? And Wald and those men with him were looking for her, I’m pretty sure. Although judging from the condition in which she left the lab, I feel pretty sure she will not want to be found.”

“It doesn’t sound like she is going to be having us over for tea, then. So we will have to go looking for her.” Lee thought for a moment. “Well, silly me, I’m not thinking straight,” he said, brightening, “It is the High Holy Days.”

“The what?”

“The Bitch’s Sabbath.” When Peter continued to look confused, he said peevishly, “Halloween. Tomorrow. Honestly, you butch ones. I’ll bet you chop logs to make your own toothpicks.”

“Okay, so it’s Halloween. So what?” Peter asked.

“So what? So, the Castro is ground zero for Halloween celebration. If there is anywhere public that dyke is likely to show up, that would be the spot.”

“With everything that has happened, do you really think she would be out celebrating?” Peter asked doubtfully.

“It is not about celebrating, sugar, it is practically required of our people,” Lee said, “It’s called showing the flag. Lesbians get a frequent flyer mile for every minute they spend in the Castro on Halloween night.”

“What about gay men?”

“A mile and a half. It’s those eyelashes, they are a bitch to get right, lots harder than putting on a leather jacket.” Lee stood up and dusted his hands together. “That’s it, then. You get yourself gussied up and I will pick you up tomorrow night at nine. We are going to do the Stro, sweets, the two of us. And you had better look fabulous, too. I want all those ladies to be so-o-o jealous when they see you with me.”

“I don’t know,” Peter said hesitantly.

“The macho look.” Lee looked Peter up and down. “You do do macho, don’t you? It isn’t all dresses, I hope.”

Peter laughed despite himself. He was glad now that he had told Lee everything. Even if Lee couldn’t help him, it was a relief just to share the burden. “I will be so macho it will make you swoon,” he promised.

Lee rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too carried away, honey, you might end up with me weak and helpless in your arms, and if you think you have got trouble now, you really do not want to go there.”

* * * *

“Moes. Check it out.” Hector paused to read a hand-lettered sign on a telephone pole, his lips moving as he scanned. “Someone’s offering a reward for his lost doggie. Fifty frigging bucks. Man. We could make ourselves some easy cash.”

The other two glanced at the poster. Archie shrugged. “So? We don’t have his little doggie, do we?”

“No, but we could have,” Hector said. “Not his little doggie, exactly, but, you know, we could have someone’s little doggie. People love their doggies. Fags especially. They totally freak out over their doggies. I’ll bet they offer rewards all the time when their doggies get lost.”

He gave them a minute to catch on. When they still looked at him blankly, he explained patiently, “Say, like, we snatch someone’s doggie, some fag’s, and we hold him for ransom.”

“That’s a federal case, isn’t it, kidnapping?” Tom asked. “I don’t want the F.B.I. on my butt, bro. Remember that movie, The Unstoppables? That Connery dude? Man, those guys don’t quit till they bust your ass. They finally got this big time gangster cause he paid his income tax.”

“That’s if it’s people, dummy,” Hector said. “No one cares if you snatch a dog. Except the dog’s fag owner. And what if they busted us anyway? There’s no proof the dog didn’t just jump into our arms. The dog can’t squeal, can he? And as long as we don’t pay any income tax that Connery dude can’t touch us either, right? We just wait for the fag to offer a reward for his missing doggie, and then we call and say we found his pooch roaming the streets, and he can have him back and we collect the reward. I’m telling you, it’s easy money, no risks.”

Archie grinned. “Rad. Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Only,” Tom said, “We haven’t got a dog.”

“Man, that’s a bummer,” Archie said, his grin fading.

“So? We just go looking for one,” Hector said patiently.

“Where?” Tom asked.

“Like, in the Castro, where else?” Hector said. “We want a fag’s dog, right? They’re the ones that’ll pay the big ass bucks. And where do all the fags live? They live in the Castro. So, that’s where we look for a doggie.”

“Sweet. You are sharp, bro, you know that?” Archie said with an admiring grin.

“I love this town,” Tom said. “It’s got everything a dude could want—fags, doggies, all of it. Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk.”

“Only, the Castro’s a long way from here. I can’t stroll that far with this,” Archie said, indicating the crutch he had stolen a little earlier from the vestibule of a senior center. His leg was better, but it still hurt to walk on it.

“No problema,” Hector said, “I saw a little gray Toyota sitting at the curb a couple of blocks back there practically inviting someone to go for a cruise of the Castro. All we got to do is a little specialty wiring....”

“I can do that,” Archie said.

They went back to the little gray Toyota. The owner had left the doors conveniently unlocked. Archie sprawled on the front seat and began tugging at electrical wires underneath the dash. Sparks flared.

“Whoa,” Tom declared, watching with rapt interest.

“Got her,” Archie said. The engine turned over a bit reluctantly, and came to life. Within five minutes they were on their way to the Castro, Archie at the wheel, Hector beside him and Tom in the back

“This is even better,” Hector said, picking something up from the seat between them. “Check it out, bros, the dude left his cell phone. We can call people all over the place.”

He played with the phone and contemplated whom he might call. Unfortunately, almost no one he knew had a phone and the ones who did wouldn’t be interested in hearing from him. He punched in numbers at random and got a woman’s voice: “Lydia’s Lace-aria, where the ladies of the street meet, Maggie the manager speaking. Can I help you with your intimate undies?”

“You got Prince Albert on the can?” Hector asked and hung up laughing.

“What’s that mean?” Archie asked, frowning. “Exactly?”

Hector shrugged. Fucking boneheads spoiled everything. “I don’t know. Some chick I used to know called people all the time and asked that, and then she’d hang up and she’d just about pee her pants laughing.”

“It’s probably some in joke,” Tom said. “Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk.”

“Yeah, gotta be. Take the side streets,” Hector instructed.

“Dude, we just lifted the car five, ten minutes ago, the cops won’t be looking for it yet,” Archie said. “Probably the dude hasn’t even missed it.”

Hector sighed. Sometimes these two tried his patience. It was just lucky for them that he, at least, had brains. “We’re looking for doggies,” he explained with exaggerated care. “Unattended doggies. We want residential streets, not queenie shops like on Market Street.” He paused thoughtfully. “What do you think a lace-aria is? What are intimate undies, anyway?”

* * * *

It took fewer than ten minutes for them to find the dog they wanted, at the edge of the Castro on a street where most of the silent houses, windows dark, looked already settled in for the night.

They found several dogs, in fact. A small pack of them was clustered outside a big iron fence, one of them trying in vain to dig a hole under the fence in the cement of the sidewalk.

Archie pulled up to the curb and the Moes got out. The dogs looked at them eagerly as if they were reinforcements. The digger stopped and waited.

“Check it out, there must be a dozen of them. We could take them all,” Tom said. “Get a whole bunch of rewards.”

“Numb nuts,” Hector said, giving him a swat on the back of his head. “These mutts are running loose. Nobody cares enough about them to pay us anything. That’s the one we want, the doggie in the window.” Hector jerked a thumb beyond the iron fence. A lone pug sat in the window, panting and staring longingly at the dog pack outside the fence.

“How much could we get for the doggie in the window, do you think?” Archie asked.

“A C note, for sure,” Hector said.

“No way,” Archie said, disbelieving.

“Way,” Hector insisted. “I’m telling you, a C note.”

“Look, ain’t that cute, he’s wearing panties,” Tom said. He frowned thoughtfully. “Only, why would a dog wear panties, you think?”

“Because he’s special,” Hector explained. Jeez, these two dipshits. “I told you, fruits are really weird about their little dogs, they treat them like they were their babies. That tells us this one is something totally special to his owner. A guy who puts little pink panties on his dog, he probably walks him in a baby buggy too. For sure he will pay a reward. Big time. C note, for sure. All we got to do now is snatch the pup.”

Archie and Tom exchanged glances. “I can’t get over the fence with this,” Archie said, indicting the crutch. Tom looked at Hector.

“I got to keep an eye out,” Hector said. “I’m the one working the plan, right? Besides....” He indicated the makeshift sling on his arm and looked at Tom. “You’ll have to climb over.”

Tom looked briefly doubtful but as usual he couldn’t think of any good argument for Hector’s superior reasoning. With a put-upon sigh he turned to the iron spikes.

He managed to clamber over the fence with only one small tear in his jeans, and dropped to the ground on the other side with a loud “Woof.” The pack of dogs on the sidewalk danced about noisily and watched his every move intently, as if wanting to hitch a ride.

“Now what?” Tom asked, standing and dusting himself off.

“Duh. Now you get Fido,” Hector said. “That’s what you climbed over there for, isn’t it?”

Tom stared at the doggie in the window for a moment. The pug stared back, tongue lolling, and wagged her tail, her entire rear wagging with it. “The window’s shut,” Tom said, looking back at Hector. “How do I get it open?”

Jesus, I got to think of everything, Hector thought wearily. “See if there’s a screwdriver in the car,” he told Archie. “Or a tire iron, maybe. Something he can get the window open with.”

Archie checked the trunk of the car and was back a minute later with a foot long screwdriver. “Here you go,” he said, handing it to Hector.

“It’s for him, not me,” Hector said, pointing a thumb at Tom. Talk about stupid.

Archie handed the screwdriver through the fence. Tom took it from him and went to the window, and holding the screwdriver by the blade, he smashed the glass with the handle. Hector sighed and poised to run in case the noise brought an angry resident, but for the moment there was no response from inside.

“Get the fuckin’ window open,” he hissed loudly.

Tom lifted the sash up. “Shit, it wasn’t locked to begin with,” he said, looking over his shoulder with a sheepish grin.

“Get the damned dog, then, and let’s go,” Hector said. Man, these guys could drive you fucking around the bend.

Tom reached through the broken glass and picked up the pug. The dogs on the sidewalk wagged their tails in celebration and pranced about excitedly, their toenails clicking on the pavement. There was a chorus of eager yips and arfs and wheezes.

“Give him to me,” Hector said. Tom handed the pug over the fence. “Come on.” Hector said to Archie, “We need to make a quick getaway before someone comes to investigate. Neighbors are probably calling the cops already, dumb fuck breaking the window like that.”

“Hey, what about me?” Tom demanded, scrabbling up the iron fence.

“Ought to leave him here, dude ran out on us the other night,” Hector said under his breath. “Hey, get off.” The pack of dogs was jumping at his legs, trying to get at the pug. They almost tripped him up. “Fuck, dumb dogs. Go away. Fuck off. Shit, what’s with these little bastards anyway, I never saw dogs so excited?”

Archie had the car door open. Hector threw the pug onto the back seat and slid in after him. He had to kick two of the most aggressive dogs away to keep them from jumping in as well. One of them got past and managed to get inside. Hector picked him up and tossed him at the others. “Haul ass, bro,” he told Archie.

“Hey, bros,” Tom yelled. He fell over the fence and landed on his hands and knees on the sidewalk among the frantic dogs. He just made it into the car as it started to move. “Fuck, you guys almost left me behind,” he said, flinging himself into the back seat and panting.

“No shit,” Hector said.

“Man, that was one friendly bunch of dogs, wasn’t it?” Archie said with a laugh. “Guess this little dude must be one of their bros. I’ll bet they’re Moe dogs.”

“I’ll bet it’s them little pink panties he’s wearing that got them all excited,” Tom said.

“I’ll bet them little pink panties got you all excited,” Hector said.

“Gee, I don’t know.” Tom gave the pug a measuring look. “I remember once when I was a kid, we had this big old hound dog, his name was Fred, and this one time I....”

“Forget it,” Hector said, pretty sure he didn’t want to hear the rest. “This here is our meal ticket.”

“Speaking of meals...,” Archie said. It had been a long time since they had last eaten.

“Yeah, we got to make a grocery run,” Hector said. “Head for Safeway.”

* * * *

They made a food foray through the Safeway supermarket, each picking up something for supper. Hector was tempted by a fragrant roast chicken, still warm from the oven, but he figured the smell would tip off the security guard by the door. Steaks were better because you couldn’t smell them if a guy walked out with them, but they had no way of cooking them back at the Bat Cave.

Instead, he slipped a package of doughnuts under his parka, the glazed kind. Doughnuts were always good for a meal. And some ice cream, too, a quart of vanilla and a quart of chocolate. Ice cream was great with doughnuts. He went back and got a box of chocolate doughnuts as well, for dessert.

He had been thinking lately that maybe he would split for a while. Head for Las Vegas, say. He bet he could show those show girls a thing or two. Or someplace foreign, but where they spoke American. Hawaii, maybe, or that Gilligan’s Island. He had seen that once on TV and it looked totally cool. Especially that blonde babe. He was willing to bet she’d dig his coconuts.

A chick stacking cans of vegetables on a shelf gave him the eye. He winked at her as he went by and strutted a little more confidently. When he was by himself, he would get a lot more pussy, too, he was convinced of it. Those two shit heads he was hanging out with, you could count on them to scare a chick away. No wonder he was spending all his time whacking off instead of getting laid right, like he was sure he could if he was on his own.

Maybe, he thought, his stomach reminding him he was hungry, maybe he could stash the chocolate doughnuts and have them all for himself when the boneheads were asleep. And the ice cream too, at least the chocolate.

The other two were already at the car when he got back to it. Tom had gotten chips and cheese puffs, which didn’t seem to Hector like he had picked up his fair share. Man, sometimes he thought he was the only one could do things right. Maybe it was time for him to move on.

“Sardines,” Archie said, brandishing cans. “And pork and beans. And, check this out.” He produced a large bag of M&Ms with a flourish.

“Wow, dudes, this is gonna be like a banquet,” Tom said. “Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk.” He glanced at the car. The pug was jumping at the window, little nails making clickety-click sounds on the glass. “Uh oh. We forgot about Fido.”

“So? We ain’t running a doggie camp,” Hector said. “The dog’ll live till tomorrow.”

“No way. I ain’t letting the pup go hungry,” Tom said stubbornly. “That’s not cool.”

“So, what? You want to go back in?” Hector asked.

“Cousin of mine has dogs,” Archie said, “And she feeds them, like, people stuff all the time. You know, leftovers.”

“Okay, fine,” Hector said. “The doggie can eat what we eat, nothing wrong with that, way I see it. Good thing I got plenty, though.” I definitely am gonna stash the ice cream, he thought. For sure he was doing more than his fair share.

A pair of dogs bounded across the parking lot toward them, barking merrily. One of them tried to climb Hector’s leg. “Get off,” he said, shaking the dog loose. “The hounds must have smelled the ice cream.”

Another dog joined the two dancing around their feet. Hector kicked at him. “Shit, what’s with all the dogs?” he demanded. “Don’t the city have a dogcatcher? Fucker’s not doing his job, don’t seem like to me.”

“Maybe you oughta write somebody a letter,” Tom said.

“Yeah, I got a good mind,” Hector said. He didn’t bother to explain that he could barely write. All those words, it was hard to fit them together. Thinking was what he did best anyway. “Let’s head for the Bat Cave.”