Butterflies in Heat (40 page)

Nervously he wiped his sweaty hands on his trousers. "It's not greed. It's Lola." Avoiding Tangerine's penetrating look, he went on, "Lola and I aren't on the best of terms."

Leonora spun around, glaring at him. "Nevertheless, she requested you. In fact, she's waiting for you now." For a moment, the only sound heard was Tangerine's cough. Leonora was tempted, ever so briefly, to slap her in the face. Coughing in her presence was unbearable. "Lola will tell you where to go," she continued, turning to Numie. "I have a feeling she knows exactly where everything is, that calculating black hussy."

"I don't know how long I'll be with her." Numie's voice was weird, even to himself. It was the sound he made when he suffered from a sore throat.

"Take all the time you need," Leonora said. Her confidence was slowly returning. As before, when her world seemed hopelessly doomed, she was girding herself to remake it. "I'm certainly not going anywhere today. Besides, this news has given me a splitting headache." She was ready to go, then she noticed what Tangerine was doing. "Peeling potatoes at a time like this?"

"The cook is sick," Tangerine said, her eyes downcast.

For one brief second, Leonora flirted with the idea of kicking over the water holding the blasted potatoes. "Darling," she said, controlling her voice, "no one will be eating at this house today I can assure you. Besides, nobody eats potatoes under any circumstances.

Tangerine's face reflected her hurt. "But that's one of the few things I know how to cook."

"Forget it!" Leonora screeched, exasperated to the point of violence. She rushed toward the parlor. "That miserable drag queen even owns half of my fashion house." Her temples were throbbing with pain, as the tension within her mounted. "I'm fated to go through life plagued with drag queens. Norton Huttnar. Now, Lola La Mour."

In the downstairs bar at Commodore Philip's, Ned was wearing nothing but a bikini. He was nursing a drink in the comer near the platform where Lola was married.

Numie adjusted his eyes to the dim light. Kicking aside a fallen box, he told Ned: "Tell Lola the
chauffeur
is here."

With glassy eyes, Ned looked up at him. "I'm no messenger service."

For one brief moment, Numie was tempted to walk out on everything and everybody.

On wobbly legs, Ned got up. "Let me talk some shit to you, white boy." His fingers dug into Numie's shoulder. "I gotta figure out some way to keep the lid on that highsidin' Lola. That gal is pussy-whipping me to death." His hand dropped to his side. "She's after
cajones.
She's trying to get mine, and you're next on her list."

Numie backed away, smiling sardonically. "I thought you knew how to control all women."

Ned banged his fist on the bar counter. "Man, Lola is the craziest chick I ever came across. Women with real pussies I can handle. But in Lola's case ... "

"I know," Numie said, his tension at seeing Ned again fading. "It's like petting a cobra."

Ned fingered his own biceps, as if to assure himself they were still there. "Lola's one hell of a bitch. She was coming on so strong with me right in front of you. You know why? To make you jealous." His eyes darted around the bar, as if he were being attacked from every angle. "Now that she's all hotsy-totsy with the cookies the commodore left behind, she wants a white man on the chain." He licked his finger and pointed at Numie. "You, stud."

This prospect struck Numie like hell trying to claim him. "I'm not on the market. I was with her once and that's enough."

Ned burst into hollow laughter. "She'll get you back.

Numie stepped aside. He was playing a role today, and was determined it would not affect him deeply.
"If
Lola's through with you, what are you hanging around for?"

Ned waved his hand, but noticing it was empty, wrapped it around his drink again. "She ain't through with me. Dinah neither. That broad wants me around so she can boss me. Let's face it. Half the fun of being rich is to make those around you eat ass."

"Not for me it isn't." He nervously paced the bar.

"Man, you ain't rich—and you ain't never gonna be rich neither," Ned said.

Numie smiled to himself. All his life he'd dreamed of the rich lady waiting to take him away. But even in his worse nightmares, the lady had not been Lola or anything like her.

"Jive-ass motherfucker," Ned said, spinning around. "You're just another nigger like me, hanging out with some pussy trying to get a lick."

Numie couldn't take Ned or any more of this talk. "Does she want me to drive her or not?" he asked abruptly.

Ned ambled over and put a quarter in the jukebox. A full glass in the other hand, he pounded the jukebox drunkenly in rhythm to the rock music. "She's waiting for you upstairs. That queen is after her some
manhood.
She's gonna buy yours, watch and see!"

In Lola's boudoir, Dinah was clicking her heels to earsplitting pop music. She was wearing nothing but a sunflower yellow T-shirt cut into a form-fitting halter top. "Don't stand there with your jaw hanging," she said. "Come on in or you'll let in the flies."

In a gossamer-thin white morning coat, Lola was in her
dressing room foyer. Turning around, she spotted Numie. Quickly she dropped her nail file. Putting her hand to her forehead, she started to mourn, then darted over to the stereo and turned
it
off. "Ain't you got no respect for the dead?" she demanded of Dinah. Throwing her hands to her face again, she sobbed loudly and rushed over to Numie to embrace him.

He remained cold and distant.

She stepped back, her anger apparent. Still, she tried not to show it. "Just imagine," she said, "my dear sweet daddy taken away from me so soon after we was married."

"But you had so many good years together," Numie said sarcastically.

Lola glared at him.

He glanced at his watch. "Want me to drive you somewhere?"

"Yes," Lola answered, rather grandly. "You know Dinah, of course. She's my new secretary."

"I didn't know you could type," Numie said.

"Can't," Dinah answered.

"Look, gal," Lola said, "you do not receive my
business
visitors with no pants on." She looked nervously at Numie, trying to detect some attraction on his part for Dinah. She could see none. "That black furry thing," she went on, "is sickening enough without your flaunting it in our faces."

"'Cuse me," Dinah said, retreating to the bathroom.

Numie backed away from Lola, staying as close to the door as possible. Lola had the crazed glow of a woman out for a taste of blood.

Propping her hands on her hips, she said, "I want to survey the mutual properties
I
own with De la Mer. Is my business manager ready?"

He shook his head and tried to speak in an unemotional voice. "I didn't know you had a business manager?"

She strutted around the boudoir, swinging her ass hopefully. "Ned is my new business manager." She kept glancing back at Numie. The way she figured it, he was doing a real good job of concealing his jealousy. "The same job for me that Ralph has for that De la Mer dyke."

The sunlight coming in through the gauze curtains made the white room yellow. Numie's hand was shaking. "And Dinah is your version of Anne?" he asked.

"Exactly," Lola answered.

"Cept I can't type," Dinah called, peering around the comer and shaking a pair of nylon panties at Lola.

"Social secretaries don't have to type," Lola said, emotionally exhausted. That child had a way of tiring her something awful. "Dinah had to look all over town for me to get a suitable black dress to wear during this time of grief." The line sounded phony, and she knew
it.
She studied her reflection in her dressing mirror, hoping that would give her more confidence. "I've never worn black, but I think it proper today. Dinah found a Cuban girl my size, and we bought the dress right off her back." She went over to the bed and picked it up. "No style!" she exclaimed with loathing in her voice. "Cubans got no taste at all, but I'll have to wear it temporarily." She ran her hand down her trim figure. "I'm having something made up real special for tonight."

Numie yawned. He was bored, and he clearly wanted to get on with the business of the day. "Where are we going first?"

Lola's eyes flared. She wasn't used to tricks yawning in her face. "To get an outfit for Ned," she said sharply. "He don't have no suitable clothes to be seen around town with me." She whipped around, waving her arms in a theatrical gesture and tossing her ass once more at Numie. "Jesus Christ, I'll go broke dressing you men."

In his pink suit and "Sky" hat, Ned was six-foot-two of new man. He was ready and raring to go.

"Don't you think it's a little flashy?" David asked, in his high-pitched voice.

"Man,
if
you've got something to flash, then flash it," Ned countered.

In the same boutique where Lola had outfitted him, Numie was pacing the upper reaches, casually examining a pair of badly made slacks.

"Your mama has to show these dudes how to dress," Lola said. She was not completely pleased with her makeup. Sweat in summer caused embarrassing streaks.

"You sure know how to pick them," David said, eying Ned carefully.

"One more thing," Ned added, folding up his old trousers, "this pink suit's the only thing in this joint that sings. Everything else is more for old fags. Next time I come in, I want to see some good stuff."

Lola looked hopefully up front at Numie, but he was paying her no attention. "Ever seen a rainbow?" she asked David.

"What do you mean?" he replied.

Lola did a rolling bump. "Get some color in here," she ordered.

"Some red on red, some black on white ... and plum," Ned said. "I get off on plum."

"But I've done very well with this merchandise," David protested. "The pink suit I actually got in a shipment by mistake."

"Mistake?" Ned was furious. "You saying I ain't got taste, mister?"

No, I didn't mean it that way," David said, backing off.

It
probably was a mistake," Lola said, swishing gaily around the room. "That's why it's the best suit in the shop—'cause you didn't order it!"

"But I've never received any complaints before," David said.