‘lewd and abandoned women,’ well, that’s a notion I get behind one hundred percent. I’d get up on a soapbox of my own and stand right next to him to show my support.”
“Ha!” the mayor said, batting the air with his arm. “You’d sooner become a monk than get the entire City Council to support a legal district of prostitution. The alderman is as good as talking nonsense. Oh, but I do love picturing you planting a soapbox right next to his. He’d be mortified!” Flower broke into little-girl giggles.
Anderson reclined back into his chair, savoring a gulp of whiskey as he watched the already-strained buttons on the mayor’s vest struggle against his fit of laughter. He didn’t mind Flower, and he’d certainly benefited from how close they’d become, but he couldn’t help but often wonder: How did this roly-poly get elected into office? If bullshit were music, he should have his own brass band. It occurred to Anderson that he, himself, should run for office. But not local government—Lord no, the Cabildo was so full of hypocrites. Those local politicians, they were nothing more than reeds in the wind, over here one minute, over there the next—and pocketing kickbacks all around. Bigger sights were in view for Tom Anderson: the Louisiana State Legislature, perhaps. And there was always Washington, DC, still so pearly white—he could go in there and actually have a chance at tarnishing things up.
“It doesn’t quite make sense, Mayor, why the City Council’s so opposed to Alderman Story’s proposition,” Anderson said as Flower caught his breath. “After all, creating a legal prostitution district would limit whores to certain boundaries. Folks could stop arguing that whores were corrupting family neighborhoods and that they lived in fear of a whorehouse popping up next door. As we both know, whores’ll do many things, but they don’t do the real estate market any favors.”
It took the mayor a second before the pun sank in. “Oh, favors , Tom,” he said, dissolving again into giggles. “The City Council could certainly benefit from a favor or two, believe you me! So uptight, all of them. But trust me, they won’t ever legalize a prostitution district, even if it mandated whores to be chained to the lampposts.”
“Now that’s an interesting picture,” Anderson said, swirling his drink.
“Hell’s bells.” The mayor snorted. “The City Council’s been plotting the demise of Venus Alley for as long as I’ve been in office. One alderman’s voice, and a pretty darn mousy one if you ask me, ain’t gonna make a damn of difference. People ’round here don’t take kindly to change, you know that. Pour me some more drink, will ya?”
Setting down his own still nearly full glass, Anderson refilled the mayor’s drained one, marveling at how the sot could really suck it down.
Reaching for his refill, Flower wedged himself out of the chair to pace the room—for effect, of course. It was an important point Anderson had brought up, and, as the mayor, he wanted to do his best to expound. “See, Tom, the only thing Alderman Sidney Story’s accomplishing is to make the City Council riled up. And now they’re looking for a way to lash back at Story’s unorthodox ideas, show that new alderman he doesn’t call the shots, that he can’t just traipse in here—oh, and he does traipse! Have you seen him, Tom?” The mayor’s cheeks bulged with more giggles.
Tom gave a disinterested shrug.
“Well, it tickles me that such a, how should I put this, such an unmanly man is the one carrying on about legalizing prostitution. I bet Sidney Story has never even been with a woman. I bet this is all some twisted way of covering up something that ain’t quite right in his head, if you know what I mean. I bet this new alderman still lives with his mother. Anyway, as I was saying before I interrupted myself, the City Council wants to show him that he can’t just traipse in here threatening to change
“Ha!” the mayor said, batting the air with his arm. “You’d sooner become a monk than get the entire City Council to support a legal district of prostitution. The alderman is as good as talking nonsense. Oh, but I do love picturing you planting a soapbox right next to his. He’d be mortified!” Flower broke into little-girl giggles.
Anderson reclined back into his chair, savoring a gulp of whiskey as he watched the already-strained buttons on the mayor’s vest struggle against his fit of laughter. He didn’t mind Flower, and he’d certainly benefited from how close they’d become, but he couldn’t help but often wonder: How did this roly-poly get elected into office? If bullshit were music, he should have his own brass band. It occurred to Anderson that he, himself, should run for office. But not local government—Lord no, the Cabildo was so full of hypocrites. Those local politicians, they were nothing more than reeds in the wind, over here one minute, over there the next—and pocketing kickbacks all around. Bigger sights were in view for Tom Anderson: the Louisiana State Legislature, perhaps. And there was always Washington, DC, still so pearly white—he could go in there and actually have a chance at tarnishing things up.
“It doesn’t quite make sense, Mayor, why the City Council’s so opposed to Alderman Story’s proposition,” Anderson said as Flower caught his breath. “After all, creating a legal prostitution district would limit whores to certain boundaries. Folks could stop arguing that whores were corrupting family neighborhoods and that they lived in fear of a whorehouse popping up next door. As we both know, whores’ll do many things, but they don’t do the real estate market any favors.”
It took the mayor a second before the pun sank in. “Oh, favors , Tom,” he said, dissolving again into giggles. “The City Council could certainly benefit from a favor or two, believe you me! So uptight, all of them. But trust me, they won’t ever legalize a prostitution district, even if it mandated whores to be chained to the lampposts.”
“Now that’s an interesting picture,” Anderson said, swirling his drink.
“Hell’s bells.” The mayor snorted. “The City Council’s been plotting the demise of Venus Alley for as long as I’ve been in office. One alderman’s voice, and a pretty darn mousy one if you ask me, ain’t gonna make a damn of difference. People ’round here don’t take kindly to change, you know that. Pour me some more drink, will ya?”
Setting down his own still nearly full glass, Anderson refilled the mayor’s drained one, marveling at how the sot could really suck it down.
Reaching for his refill, Flower wedged himself out of the chair to pace the room—for effect, of course. It was an important point Anderson had brought up, and, as the mayor, he wanted to do his best to expound. “See, Tom, the only thing Alderman Sidney Story’s accomplishing is to make the City Council riled up. And now they’re looking for a way to lash back at Story’s unorthodox ideas, show that new alderman he doesn’t call the shots, that he can’t just traipse in here—oh, and he does traipse! Have you seen him, Tom?” The mayor’s cheeks bulged with more giggles.
Tom gave a disinterested shrug.
“Well, it tickles me that such a, how should I put this, such an unmanly man is the one carrying on about legalizing prostitution. I bet Sidney Story has never even been with a woman. I bet this is all some twisted way of covering up something that ain’t quite right in his head, if you know what I mean. I bet this new alderman still lives with his mother. Anyway, as I was saying before I interrupted myself, the City Council wants to show him that he can’t just traipse in here threatening to change
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