Read Online Spin Doctor by Leslie Carroll - Free Book Online Page B

district where straight women get to act like they’re gay?” Naomi nodded. “I’ve never been there,” Alice said, mulling over the invitation. “I’ve always been kind of curious about it, though. Do you two go there often?” I could see that she was wondering why two lesbians would frequent a club where women pretended to be lesbians.
    â€œWe’re there every night,” Naomi said. “We own it.”
    â€œWhy don’t you come tonight too, Susan,” Claude urged. “And each of you—bring a girlfriend, if you want to. Actually, tonight would be a great night to come down. We’re having a Weimar Nacht. You know, we’re pretending it’s Berlin in 1931 and everyone gets to act like Lili Marlene.”
    â€œAs long as you don’t also have people dressing up in brown shirts, I think I can handle it,” Alice said. “But I’ve got a performance at eight. How late are you there?”
    Naomi gave a little snort. “It’s a nightclub, Alice. We don’t roll up the sidewalks at midnight. By the time Claude and I usually get out of there, most people are just getting ready to start their day! In fact, we often come to our therapy sessions with Susan directly from the club.”
    â€œWell then, I just might check it out tonight,” Alice said. “Aslong as you also promise me that if I tie on a few too many over this Eric Witherspoon news you’ll pour me discreetly into a taxi and never mention the incident again.”
    â€œGirl Scouts’ honor,” said Claude, crossing her heart.
    â€œI think that oath only applies to promising not to burn the toasted marshmallows,” Naomi quipped.
    Claude shot her a look. “A lot you know. That’s the Campfire Girls you’re thinking of.”
    These days Claude and Naomi could turn anything into a full-fledged blow-up. I knew that much of the tension between them was really related to the deeper issue of the adoption, but my God, could they bicker!
    Naomi shrugged in disgust. “Girl Scouts, Campfire Girls, whatever. Funny how it’s totally okay when they throw a bunch of little girls together like that and then the same people go wacko when some of those little girls begin to like each other more than they’re ‘supposed to,’ whatever that means.”
    Claude looked uncomfortably from Alice and Mala Sonia to me and then back to Naomi. “Maybe we should save this for our next session, baby.”
    ME
    Eli phoned at six P.M . to say that he needed to work late again—something about inking—and Ian was sleeping over at a friend’s house, so I accepted Claude and Naomi’s invitation to head down to Sappho. I ran into Alice, who was there with her pregnant friend Isabel Martinucci. Izzy was very anxious—once she learned that I was a therapist—that I not judge her harshly for hanging out in a bar while she was expecting a baby. “Don’t worry, I don’t do that,” I assured her.
    â€œGood, because we judge ourselves harshly enough!” a tipsy Alice said, raising her martini glass.
    It was hard to converse above the music. Although Sappho is a very sophisticated night spot—and I did enjoy its atmosphere of elegant decadence with just a whiff of danger—I think I may be too old for this kind of thing. I was never much of a partier, actually, even in my youth.
    From the sidelines I watched the women dancing with one another as awkwardly as junior high school kids, or tentatively making out on couches or plushy banquettes, unsure of what—or where—to touch, getting off on acting “wicked.” Tonight, in keeping with the Weimar theme, many of the women were dressed like Dietrich, in black tie and tails, often paired with hot pants instead of trousers, and accessorized with fishnet hosiery, high black heels, and rakishly worn fedoras. Alice and Izzy, since they were both