Leonard sipped some coffee. “You see, John is starting to feel he’s not supposed to be gay, and unlike us, on some level he believes that God stuff. He thinks he’s violated God’s law, so he’s going to church counseling to get straight.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
“That’s what he thinks. For heaven’s sake.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“I’ve tried to tell him that even if there is a God, the New Testament is the one to go by, and it’s not tough on us queers. It’s just the old mean version of God that gives us a hard time. Motherfucker in the Old Testament won’t even let us have a pork chop.”
“God must have finally got laid between the Old and the New Testament,” I said. “’Cause between those two books, he sure mellowed out.”
“Who’d he lay, male or female?”
“Either … Look, Leonard, I’m sorry about John.”
“Not half as sorry as I am. I’ve called him, I wrote him a letter. I even did an e-mail from one of the hotels on my laptop.”
“You got a laptop?”
“John bought it for me. At home I even got a printer and some paper to print out on.”
“You are so cosmopolitan.”
“Tell me about it. But the thing is, he’s going to take these classes so he can tell his brain and his dick that he’s been confused and he likes women. I can’t think of anything yuckier than learning to like that old pink snapper.… No disrespect to you and Brett.”
“I get your point. You want me to talk to him?”
“I don’t know. I thought about that, thought about asking you. But it won’t matter. He thinks he’s on the road to hell and wang and butt hole are no longer on the smorgasbord.”
“Leonard, thy middle name is romance. You and Tanedrue, you should get together, write a book on courting. Look here, you’re not staying in any motel. You’ll park your happy ass on the couch tonight.”
“Thanks, Hap.”
“I’m just afraid you keep trying to hook up those motel Internet connections to your laptop you’ll put your eye out. So I want you here, safe and sound.”
“Thanks, brother. Can I have the last cookie?”
“No.”
We sat there and looked at the cookie. I said, “You haven’t given up on John yet, have you?”
“No. But I got a rule. If you’re ashamed of being gay, I’m ashamed of you. I say, Queer up. I take into account John’s getting some shit and was raised in such a way as to not think he’s on the right path, but I was raised that way myself. I got over it by the time there was hair on my balls. Actually, John shaves them for me, but you know what I mean.”
“Too much information, partner. Besides, I think a man ought to have hair on his balls.”
“Now that John won’t be doing that for me anymore, are you interested in doing the shaving?” Leonard said, and smiled.
“I’d just cut them off, problem solved. Actually, several problems solved. Your relationships would be less strenuous and that pesky hair problem would be over with. You could just hang out with Bob and be happy.”
Leonard sighed. “And if things aren’t bad enough, Bob died.”
“Oh, man. Sorry.”
Bob was Leonard’s pet armadillo. They had been close. Well, Leonard had been close to Bob. It was hard to tell how Bob felt. But he did hang around and would sniff Leonard’s hand and eat out of it. He lived in Leonard’s closet a lot of the time. Went outside to do his business, like a dog. Had a bowl with his name on it.
“It was like his little clock ran down,” Leonard said. “I buried him out back near a little wallow he had made. You know how he liked to dig.”
“He was an armadillo, Leonard. It’s what they do.”
“I know. But he was kind of cool. I liked him.… Hell, Hap, I don’t know. Short time back, life was good, felt like I was fartin’ perfume and crappin’ chocolate candy. Now things suck the big ole donkey dick. John, the way he’s actin’, and now my ’dilla goin’ down. It sucks the oxygen right out of you.”
I couldn’t tell if Leonard was more upset about John or Bob. I studied his face, decided it was a draw.
“Sorry, man,” I said. “Really.”
“Thanks. It don’t help worth a damn, but I’m glad you said it,” and his voice wavered a little. “Actually, I’m thinking of trying to write a soap opera, call it Lives of the Homos.”
“Leonard?”
“Yeah.”
“You can have the last cookie.”
14
Leonard stayed with us about three days. After work we played chess, talked nasty, read books and discussed them; we talked about which was cooler, Marvel Comics or DC. Leonard thought Marvel. I thought DC. Brett liked Archie Comics. That immediately excluded her from the discussion and a bit of respect was lost. We listened to music. We rented movies and played Monopoly. Brett proved to be adamant about having the silver dog as her token, and she won a lot. I saw her steal some money from my pile once, but let it go. I called her on it when we went to bed and she made it up to me and the authorities were not called, though Archie Comics was not entirely forgiven.
It was fun having Leonard around for a while, and we hated to see him go, but he finally rented a little apartment on the other side of town, said he was calling John daily, that they were talking and he was guardedly optimistic, hoping things would resolve quickly because the hair on his balls had grown back.
I came home from work one day, sweaty and dirty and feeling like something the dogs had dragged under the porch and gnawed on, and there was a police car parked out front of the house at the curb. There was a big black guy with a cop’s uniform and a cowboy hat about the size of a life raft sitting in one of my lawn chairs smoking a cigar big as an erect horse dong. When I parked in the driveway and got out, the stench of that damn cigar wafted over to me and damn near curled the hair on my eyebrows.
I went over, said, “Let me guess. No Enterprise Police Department.”
“Ah, hell, man, you ain’t that smart,” he said, turning his head as if he wanted to pin me with just one eye. “You read that off the side of my car.”
“You’re right.” I sat down in a lawn chair and looked at him. I said, “So, you took a wrong turn or what?”
“No. I’m in the right place. They said you were a smart-ass, both of you were, and I figure you’re the white guy.”
“That’s observant.”
“Yep. I had a whole month of cop college and I read a book on fingerprinting once. I took a couple of courses in identification too.”
“Wow!”
He grinned at me around his cigar. He had strong creases around his mouth when he grinned and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. One ear floated out from the side of his head as if signaling for a turn. He didn’t strike me as over fifty. He had a hard body with a bit of a gut and arms that could twist a full-grown pig like wet wash. I remembered that Marvin had told me he was one of two fat guys. Boy, was he full of it. This John Law was big enough and mean enough looking to use an elephant’s ass to store his shoes and make the elephant like it.
“You already talk to my buddy?” I asked.
“No. Thought I’d talk to you. Hear you’re more reasonable and you don’t have lace on your panties.”
“You’re right. I am. And that lace remark, not smart. Leonard heard you talk bad about him like that, he might stick you in your hat and piss in it after you.”
“Doubt that.”
“A man with confidence,” I said. “I like that. I know a lot of confident men Leonard has handed their teeth.”
“Yeah, I hear you two think you’re tough guys. Be that as it may, what I know about you and him and me, I’d say I’m doing some better than either of you.”
“Probably. Less graft in the jobs we have.”
For the first time he didn’t look amused. “All right, let’s get formal. My name is Budd Conners. I’m half the law out of No Enterprise.”
“Do the two of you count as one lawman?”