Read Online Beauty Queen by Patricia Nell Warren - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Patricia Nell Warren
Tags: gay, romance, novel
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he ordered the salad Nicoise. Marion ordered the lemon chicken.
"Well," said Marion softly, "you always knew that she was going to get around to it someday, didn't you?"
Bill sighed again. "She had such a long list of enemies that I kept hoping she'd never get around to it."
"Very ambitious, eh?" said Marion. "I mean, do you really think she has a chance at governor?"
"Not really," said Bill. "But she doesn't know that. Besides, you never know ..
"Why not mayor of New York?"
"Because," said Bill, "she knows that being mayor is a dead end. And she knows that being governor gives her a better shot at the Presidency."
Marion gave a low whistle. "Very ambitious."
"I think she'd settle for vice president, or even a seat in the Cabinet. But in the meantime, she'd have a wonderful time running for President, and she'd stir the whole country up with her vision of a moral America."
Marion shuddered slightly.
The food arrived, and they ate at it without too much enthusiasm.
"I keep trying to think," said Bill, "where Jeannie learned her phobia about 'perverts/ I certainly never taught her that. Or maybe I did. Maybe I taught her by default, by being silent. . ."
"Don't get off on a big guilt thing now," said Marion. "You never taught her that and you know it."
"That preacher Irving has had a big influence on her," said Bill, "but I don't think he taught her that either. She had it before she was saved. Besides, Irving preaches that you have to love sinners, all sinners, bar none. Jeannie doesn't love sinners. She'd like to run them all through a big meat grinder."
The waiter came to get their dessert order, and cleared away their plates. Bill, who always worried about his weight, ordered black coffee. Marion, who had the insolence of a skinny child when it came to calories, ordered the Sumptuary's chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and hazelnuts.
"Well," said Bill, "what do we do?"
"Nothing," said Marion. He was scooping enthusiastically at his dessert.
"What do you mean, nothing?" Bill felt a little irritated. "You don't seem very concerned."
"I'm not, really," said Marion coolly. But he was smiling a little, and made a salute at Bill with a big spoonful of mousse, like he was toasting.
"Why?"
"You think she's going to be a problem for you. But you're going to be a problem for her. Did you ever look at it that way?"
"What do you mean?"
"Supposing it's revealed that you . . ."
Suddenly Bill realized what Marion was talking about. Of course Marion was right. But it didn't make him any happier to think of the trap that Jeannie would be in. It would destroy her attempt at a comeback, and he didn't really want to be responsible for that.
His shoulders slumped and he didn't say anything more.
"The only thing we can do," said Marion, "is just sit tight and see what happens. Live one day at a time."
"Supposing we come out and you lose your job?" said
Bill.
Marion shrugged. "I'm a damn good mechanic. What the hell. I'll get a job in a pit crew."
Bill felt tears stinging suspiciously close to visibility in his eyes.
"I wish I had your guts," he said.
Marion wiped a trace of whipped cream off his mouth with his napkin. "What guts?" he asked. "I didn't say I'd drive cars again. Just fix them."
They paid and left, and hailed a cab.
In the cab, down on the seat where the cabbie couldn't see, their hands groped for each other and clasped hard— Marion's lean long-fingered hand with the red scar on the palm where he'd gripped the scorching side of the Lotus, trying to jump out, and Bill's big broad hand with silvered dark hair on the backs of the fingers.
The cab dropped Marion at the gleaming glass Rolls-Royce office. He gave Bill's hand a last secret squeeze, and slowly got out.
"Have a lovely," he said.
As the cab pulled away, Bill twisted in the seat and watched him limp slowly into the office building, disappearing amid the hordes of New Yorkers ending their lunch hour. There was a lump in his throat
"Well," said Marion softly, "you always knew that she was going to get around to it someday, didn't you?"
Bill sighed again. "She had such a long list of enemies that I kept hoping she'd never get around to it."
"Very ambitious, eh?" said Marion. "I mean, do you really think she has a chance at governor?"
"Not really," said Bill. "But she doesn't know that. Besides, you never know ..
"Why not mayor of New York?"
"Because," said Bill, "she knows that being mayor is a dead end. And she knows that being governor gives her a better shot at the Presidency."
Marion gave a low whistle. "Very ambitious."
"I think she'd settle for vice president, or even a seat in the Cabinet. But in the meantime, she'd have a wonderful time running for President, and she'd stir the whole country up with her vision of a moral America."
Marion shuddered slightly.
The food arrived, and they ate at it without too much enthusiasm.
"I keep trying to think," said Bill, "where Jeannie learned her phobia about 'perverts/ I certainly never taught her that. Or maybe I did. Maybe I taught her by default, by being silent. . ."
"Don't get off on a big guilt thing now," said Marion. "You never taught her that and you know it."
"That preacher Irving has had a big influence on her," said Bill, "but I don't think he taught her that either. She had it before she was saved. Besides, Irving preaches that you have to love sinners, all sinners, bar none. Jeannie doesn't love sinners. She'd like to run them all through a big meat grinder."
The waiter came to get their dessert order, and cleared away their plates. Bill, who always worried about his weight, ordered black coffee. Marion, who had the insolence of a skinny child when it came to calories, ordered the Sumptuary's chocolate mousse topped with whipped cream and hazelnuts.
"Well," said Bill, "what do we do?"
"Nothing," said Marion. He was scooping enthusiastically at his dessert.
"What do you mean, nothing?" Bill felt a little irritated. "You don't seem very concerned."
"I'm not, really," said Marion coolly. But he was smiling a little, and made a salute at Bill with a big spoonful of mousse, like he was toasting.
"Why?"
"You think she's going to be a problem for you. But you're going to be a problem for her. Did you ever look at it that way?"
"What do you mean?"
"Supposing it's revealed that you . . ."
Suddenly Bill realized what Marion was talking about. Of course Marion was right. But it didn't make him any happier to think of the trap that Jeannie would be in. It would destroy her attempt at a comeback, and he didn't really want to be responsible for that.
His shoulders slumped and he didn't say anything more.
"The only thing we can do," said Marion, "is just sit tight and see what happens. Live one day at a time."
"Supposing we come out and you lose your job?" said
Bill.
Marion shrugged. "I'm a damn good mechanic. What the hell. I'll get a job in a pit crew."
Bill felt tears stinging suspiciously close to visibility in his eyes.
"I wish I had your guts," he said.
Marion wiped a trace of whipped cream off his mouth with his napkin. "What guts?" he asked. "I didn't say I'd drive cars again. Just fix them."
They paid and left, and hailed a cab.
In the cab, down on the seat where the cabbie couldn't see, their hands groped for each other and clasped hard— Marion's lean long-fingered hand with the red scar on the palm where he'd gripped the scorching side of the Lotus, trying to jump out, and Bill's big broad hand with silvered dark hair on the backs of the fingers.
The cab dropped Marion at the gleaming glass Rolls-Royce office. He gave Bill's hand a last secret squeeze, and slowly got out.
"Have a lovely," he said.
As the cab pulled away, Bill twisted in the seat and watched him limp slowly into the office building, disappearing amid the hordes of New Yorkers ending their lunch hour. There was a lump in his throat
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