Up until the present it had not interfered with his business. Charlie was willing to let him drink what he wanted, as long as he could do his job. So far, it appeared, he could. Beth, looking at him, wondered what strange, strong hold liquor held over the Purvises. Vega and Cleve both worshipped the stuff, and Mrs. Purvis was blind and crippled and leaking because of it.
Cleve had trouble telling Beth why he had brought her there this afternoon. It was easier after a couple of drinks, and by that time they were both looking at each other through new eyes.
“By God,” Cleve mused. “I never realized you had violet eyes before. I always thought they were plain blue.”
“Is that why you dragged me down here? To tell me that?” she asked.
He grinned sheepishly. “That’s probably as good a reason as any. Better than the real one.”
“You were going to tell me something about your wicked sister,” Beth said. “And you better had before I get drunk. I have a date with her this afternoon at four.”
“A date?” The phrase seemed to rock him a little. “Well, what the hell, drink all you want, you won’t be any up on her. She’s never sober.”
“She’s never drunk, either,” Beth said.
“Yeah, how about that? I wish I were that kind of a drinker,” he said enviously. “Never sober but never drunk.”
“It doesn’t seem to make her very happy,” Beth observed. “Maybe it would be better not to be a drinker at all.”
“No doubt about it,” Cleve said, grinning, and ordered another.
“Cleve, I can’t sit around all day,” she said, giving him a smile. “Tell me about Vega, or I’ll leave you here with only the booze for company.”
“Okay, okay,” he said. “Beth, I—I—Vega’s queer.” He threw it at her, curt and clumsy, as if it were hot and burned his mouth.
Beth stared at him, her face frozen with surprise, with a sudden fear and wariness. “That’s a lousy word, Cleve. Queer.”
“It’s a lousy condition. I only tell you because she won’t.”
“Well, give her the credit of a little kindness, anyway,” Beth snapped. “She’s your sister.”
“Nobody needs to remind me,” he said. “Beth, this isn’t a nice way to put it and I wish to hell I could laugh it off or forget it or put it some genteel way. But when Charlie told me she asked you to come in and model I thought somebody had better let you know.”
“And that somebody was you? Is this what you tell all her girls? Must be great for business,” She put all her scorn into it.
“No.”
“Well, then why tell me? Why not let me find out for myself? If the other girls can be trusted with her, why can’t I?” Her temper ignited quickly.
“You’re special,” he said. “You’re different from the other girls—better, I mean. And she likes you more. That’s obvious.”
“Well, if Vega’s so damn dangerous she probably would have made it clear to me herself.” She was angry; her innocent idyll with Vega was jeopardized by his harsh words. How could she fool around now, just play a little, if Vega’s own brother watched every move with morbid suspicion?
“That’s the hell of it, Beth,” he said, leaning toward her over the table. “Vega doesn’t realize it. She doesn’t know she’s gay.”
Beth’s mouth dropped open slightly. “Good God, how can you be gay and not know it?” she exclaimed.
And it was Cleve’s turn to stare. “I wouldn’t know,” he said finally, slowly, still staring. “I don’t know anything about it, frankly. I’ve never felt that way.”
Beth felt her whole neck flush and her cheeks turn scarlet. She was suddenly embarrassed and irritated. “Is that all you came here to tell me, Cleve? Vega’s gay? Nobody in the whole world has figured this mystery out but you, of course, and you don’t know anything about it. Not even Vega knows about it. Just you. Not your mother, not Gramp, not the people who live with her, not the models who study with her. Just good old Doctor Cleve, expert analyst. He doesn’t know anything about the subject, by his own admission, but he’s willing to damn his sister and smear her reputation on the strength of his own intuition. Oh, Cleve, come off it,” she said, disgusted and disappointed.
He wouldn’t argue with her. “I know she’s gay,” he said simply. “Shouting at me won’t change that.”
“Nuts!” said Beth—but she believed him. “Can you prove it?”
He smiled, a melancholy smile. “I’m glad you’re defending her,” he said. “I’m glad you’re mad about it. I wouldn’t have liked to see you take it for granted…. No, I can’t prove it. I can only tell you things…. I say this, not because your eyes are violet, not because you have such a lovely mouth, not even because we’re both a little high. I say it in honor of your innocence. I say it to spare you shock. I say it because I hope you and Vega can be friends, and nothing more. She needs a friend. She really does. All she has is Mother, and Mother has run her life since it began. Vega adores her as much as she hates her, and that’s a lot. She can’t get away from her, even though she wants to. In her heart, in her secret thoughts—I don’t know—maybe she has some idea she’s gay. But Mother hates the queers, she’s always poured contempt on them. How can Vega admit, even to herself, that she’s the kind of creature Mother despises?”
“Your mother doesn’t despise
