“I think I’ll go to sleep now, Socrates.”
“Fine. Just when you get in bed, try not to show so much skin. I don’t like seeing you in your underdrawers.”
“I thought queers liked men in their underwear.”
“Not you.”
“Well, you snore in your sleep.”
“Yeah, and you fart. No wonder you can’t keep a woman.”
I slipped off my pants and shirt, turned off the light, climbed into my bed. I lay there silent for a while. I said, “Do I really fart in my sleep?”
Leonard snickered.
“Do I?”
Leonard snickered again.
“Do I?”
“Sometimes.”
“What times?”
“When you fart. Now sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite. And finally, my good man, shut the fuck up, will you?”
“Leonard?”
“Christ. What?”
“You may be right. It’s tough loving someone and doing it right.”
“Talk about tough, you ought to be a homo. You know me and John we can’t even hold hands without people going bonkers. You, you can hold hands with a woman, no one thinks that’s weird. I hold hands with John, people stand and stare.”
“I’ve seen you hold hands with John. In public.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t do it, but it isn’t comfortable. Our love is ridiculed when folks can’t just accept it. What the fuck harm does it do them?”
“None at all, Leonard. And if it’s any consolation, I think John is a good catch. You done good. I don’t know how. But you did.”
“Good night, Hap.”
“Good night, Leonard.”
Next morning, early, there was a pounding on our door.
I sat up in bed. Leonard was already on his feet, stepping into his pants. “Who is it?” he said.
“Billy. From the boat.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “Just the man I don’t want to see.”
I pulled on my pants, was slipping on my shirt when Leonard opened the door.
Billy was standing there fuming, his fist clenched. His bright Hawaiian shirt was almost too much that time of morning.
“She here?”
“Who?” Leonard asked. “Helen of Troy?”
“You know who I mean.”
“Beatrice?” I said.
“Yeah. Her. Where is she?”
“She’s not here,” Leonard said.
“Goddamn it,” Billy said, reaching under his shirt, pulling out a small snub-nose revolver. “You’re gonna tell me-”
It was quick, the way Leonard grabbed Billy by his shirtfront and started slapping him. I’m not exactly sure how many times he slapped Billy. It was too quick and economical to tell. It was over before it started. The slapping. And the disarming.
Leonard tossed the gun on the floor, stuck two fingers in Billy’s nostrils, stepped behind him, jerked him to the floor.
Billy said, “Goddamn.”
Leonard dislodged his fingers from Billy’s nose, knelt behind him, wrapped his forearm around Billy’s neck and squeezed. “Are you gonna be good, Billy,” Leonard said, “or am I gonna have to open up an economy-size can of whup-ass?”
“I’m cool,” Billy said.
“You ain’t got enough time in your life to learn how to be cool,” Leonard said. “What do you think, Hap?”
“We could kill him, cut him up, leave him under the bed.”
“I like that.”
“I was just looking for Beatrice,” Billy said.
“I thought you were spending the night with her,” I said.
“Can you please stop choking me?”
“You get up, play nice, and don’t talk so loud,” Leonard said, “you and me can tolerate one another.”
Leonard stood up.
Billy stood up. Took a swing at Leonard. Leonard ducked it, grabbed the pistol off the floor, brought it around and caught Billy upside the head with it. Billy went down so fast it was like he’d stepped in an open manhole.
Leonard leaned over, tapped him again with the little gun, said, “You just think Rodney King took a beatin’. Wait’ll I get through.”
“Hold up, Leonard,” I said. “That’s enough. Save your strength. We may have to bury him later. And you don’t want to open your wounds.”
Leonard took a deep breath, tossed the pistol on the bed.
“Take a chair, my man,” Leonard said.
Billy got his feet under him, went over and sat down at the little table. Blood was running from his nostrils, dripping onto his colorful shirt. His cheeks were bright and finger-marked.
I went in the bathroom, got some toilet paper, stuff you could use to sand your furniture, gave the wad to Billy.
He pressed it against his nose.
“You didn’t have to do all that,” he said.
“No,” Leonard said. “I didn’t have to. But I wanted to. Don’t ever pull a gun on me, motherfucker. I’d been in a worse mood, you’d have to hire a winch truck to get that little shooter out of your ass.”
“I thought she was here,” Billy said. “I’ve spent more money on that bitch than the Republican party did their last election. I figure I got a right to know where she is. Me and her had a deal.”
“You’re spending money on her,” I said. “You don’t own her.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. I stayed with her last night. We had a fight. I wasn’t happy with you guys. I didn’t want you around, and she said fine, and then she really pissed me saying she fucked Hap here. That true, Hap?”
“I don’t usually fuck and tell, but in your case, I’ll make an exception. Yes. And I really, really enjoyed it.”
“She told me she got herself in some kind of shit with a gangster or something. She needed money. Lots of it.”
“So you took advantage of that?” I said.
“It was a deal she wanted to make,” Billy said.
“Yeah,” Leonard said, “and while you had her bent over a barrel, you thought you’d core her ass with your money. Am I right?”
“I came to her father about a fishing charter,” Billy said. “He was recommended. Goddamn, I need more toilet paper.”
This time Leonard came back with a wet towel. Billy took it, pressed it against his nose.
“Old man told me what he’d charge, and I agreed. Then I met Beatrice. She and I had a drink. We talked. She said she needed help. She needed money. She could make it a hell of a fishing trip, and in the meantime I could drop my line in her little water hole, if you know what I mean. Provided I came up with lots of money. She wanted
