Further Tales of the City

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Book: Further Tales of the City by Armistead Maupin Read Free Book Online
Authors: Armistead Maupin
Tags: Fiction, General, Gay Studies, Social Science, Gay
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editor at
New York
magazine. Brian appeared to be jealous of the long-dead relationship, so Mary Ann and Michael usually avoided mentioning it in his presence.
    Mary Ann changed the subject by interrogating Michael. “So you’re off to________’s house on Memorial Day weekend?”
    Michael nodded. “I’ll never be tan enough.”
    “Maybe he’ll come out,” mused Mary Ann, “and offer me an exclusive on the story.”
    “Uh-huh,” said Michael. “And maybe the sky will fall.”

Luke
    T HE MAN ON THE LEDGE WAS STILL SMILING UP AT PRUE, waiting for an answer to his question.
    “Uh … what?” she mumbled. Her right hand, meanwhile, burrowed deep into her bag until it closed around her tiny Tiffany rape whistle. If he made so much as a move, she would …
    “I said … you got time for coffee?”
    He gestured behind him towards the shack, a makeshift wooden structure straight out of Zane Grey. A thin curl of smoke rose from a rusty stovepipe that protruded from the building like an exclamation point.
    There was coffee inside?
    Prue cleared her throat. “That dog is mine,” she said evenly. “The one that ran into your … into that place.” Her face was crimson now; her throat was dry as chalk.
    The man continued to smile, hands thrust deep into the pockets of his baggy woolen trousers. “That so?” he replied, using a tone that seemed to taunt more than inquire. “S’nice dog, ol’ Whitey.”
    Whitey?
Had this derelict tried to stake a claim on Vuitton by giving him a new name? His proper name and owner wereclearly engraved on his dog tags. Even his collar—a Christmas present from Father Paddy Starr—had been crafted out of Louis Vuitton vinyl.
    “I was here several weeks ago,” Prue exclaimed feebly. “He ran away from me down in the tree ferns. I’m so relieved that he’s safe.”
    The man nodded, still smiling.
    “If you’ve been … taking care of him,” Prue continued, “I’ll be happy to reimburse you for any expenses you might have incurred.”
    The man laughed. “But no coffee, huh?”
    Prue’s hand tightened on the whistle. “Really, I’m … that’s awfully kind … but, um … my driver … that is, I have a friend waiting for me down at the conservatory. Thank you, though. That’s very nice.”
    The man shrugged, then turned and entered the shack, closing the door behind him.
    Prue waited.
    And waited.
    This was really
too
annoying. What did he think he was doing, anyway? It would be easy enough to prove ownership of the dog, to have this tramp arrested for holding Vuitton against his will.
    Prue considered her options: She could walk back to the conservatory and wait for her driver to return; he was imposing enough to intimidate this man into releasing Vuitton. Or, of course, she could simply call the police.
    On the other hand, why compound the nuisance by official intervention? Surely this was something she could handle on her own.
    Clutching at shrubbery for support, she made her way down the sandy slope until she reached the ledge where the shack stood. It was amazing really, this secret cul-de-sac, virtually invisible to the casual passerby, yet still within hearing distance of the traffic down below on Kennedy Drive.
    Prue strode purposefully towards the door of the shack—so purposefully, in fact, that she snagged a heel on a root and tumbled to the ground, scattering the contents of her purse. Mortified, she scooped up her belongings as quickly as possible and staggered to her feet.
    She rapped on the door.
    The first thing she heard was Vuitton’s off-key bark. Then came the sound of wood scraping wood as a homemade latch was undone.
    The door swung open, revealing the same smiling face, a face made almost handsome by high cheekbones, a strong jawline and unusual amber-colored skin. The stranger’s longish dark hair was combed neatly into place. (Had it been before?) He appeared to be in his late forties.
    “That’s better,” he said.
    Prue tried to placate

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