Back to Barbary Lane by Armistead Maupin

Author:Armistead Maupin [Maupin, Armistead]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, GLBT, gay, Family Life
ISBN: 9780062683021
Google: 681qQgAACAAJ
Amazon: B01M4Q98HQ
Publisher: Harper Perennial
Published: 2016-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Up a Creek

Honey-blond meadows flew past them in a blur as the VW left the freeway and headed west toward the river. Michael and Brian were in the front seat; Thack was in the back. This unromantic arrangement had been Thack’s doing, since he had climbed in first, but Michael had chosen not to take it personally.

“Well,” said Brian, out of the blue. “Mary Ann wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

“About what?” asked Michael, playing it safe. As agreed, he’d said nothing to Thack about Geordie.

“This trip,” said Brian. “I didn’t give her much notice.”

“Oh.”

“I’m gonna miss Entertainment Tonight.”

Michael didn’t get it. “Can’t you tape it?”

“No, I mean . . . I’m gonna miss being on it.”

Thack leaned forward. “You were gonna be on Entertainment Tonight?”

“You didn’t tell me that,” said Michael, even more impressed than Thack.

Brian shrugged. “She was gonna be on it. I was just gonna be there. Part of her goddamn persona.”

“Hey,” said Michael. “Ease up.”

“That’s what she said. Persona is exactly the word she used.”

“Well . . .”

“Your wife is in show business?” asked Thack.

“She’s got her own talk show,” Michael explained.

“That’s great,” said Thack, turning to Brian. “What sort?”

“The regular sort,” said Brian. His tone was colorless, bordering on hostile.

“She’s good,” said Michael, trying to keep it light. “She got some major dish out of Bette Midler . . .”

“What about here?” Thack pointed to the side of the road.

“What?” asked Michael.

“We’re off the freeway. Let’s put the top down.”

“Oh . . . right. Good idea.” Michael swung off the road into the dusty parking lot of a fruit stand.

“I could use something cold,” said Thack. “How ’bout you guys?”

“Sure,” said Michael. “Apple juice or something.”

“Yeah.” Brian nodded. “Fine.”

“I’ll get ’em,” said Thack. “You get the top.” He slid out from behind Michael’s seat and strode toward the fruit stand.

Michael turned and looked at Brian. “You OK?”

“Yeah.”

“This was a rotten idea, huh?”

“No.”

“Well, you don’t seem to be having a good time.”

“Would you be?” Brian wouldn’t look at him. “This was gonna be our time, man. I mean, this guy is perfectly nice, don’t get me wrong . . .”

“I’m really sorry,” said Michael.

“Don’t be. I can handle it.”

It didn’t look that way to Michael. “I thought this would work out great. He likes you, Brian . . . I mean, he seems to. And you seem to like him.”

“C’mon. He likes you a helluva lot more than he likes me.” He threw up his hand in a gesture of resignation. “That’s cool. I’m a fag hag. I can handle it.”

Michael laughed. “Stop it.”

Brian offered him a game smile. “I just don’t wanna be in the way.”

“C’mon.”

“Well, you guys are an item.”

“Says who?” asked Michael, nursing the faint hope that Thack had told Brian as much when he, Michael, had run back to the house for his sunglasses.

“Well . . . I just assumed.”

“We don’t all go to bed with each other, Brian.”

Brian shrugged. “This one looks like he might.”

“How can you tell?”

Another shrug. “I can tell with you guys.

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