When We Were Outlaws by Jeanne Cordova

Author:Jeanne Cordova [Cordova, Jeanne]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781935226512
Publisher: Spinsters Ink
Published: 2011-10-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

The Picket Line

[Los Angeles]

June 10, 1975

It took me a week to get Tomassi’s story out of my insides and into an article. Penny had bumped it up to a cover story, my first! I’d paid the price internally, but was now excited about seeing Joe’s evil deeds, and my byline, splashed all over the front page of next week’s paper. Working late that night at The Freep, I ended up passing out on the cot I kept stashed along the wall in my office.

My ringing private line woke me. Falling out of the cot, I stumbled to my desk, and managed a disoriented, “Hello?”

“Is that you, Jeanne?” The intimate tenor of Rachel’s voice soothed me. “I thought you would be long gone from the office by now.”

“No, I’m still here.”

“I guess I need to schedule myself in as a story,” she said. “Did you forget it was Friday night? We have a date…I mean…we were supposed to see each other.”

“Of course I didn’t forget.” I tried to remember what day it was. “It’s still early…isn’t it?” I rubbed my eyes, looking around for my watch.

“It’s ten pm,” Rachel said.

“Really?”

“Do you still want to see me?” I heard the doubt in her voice.

“Of course.” The thought of crawling into Rachel’s bed and holding her felt reassuring. I paused, not sure I wanted to describe, or re-feel, my time with Tomassi.

“Is something wrong?” Rachel asked.

“I’ve had a tough week,” I said, my voice dropping low. “I saw good and evil staring me in the face. Only the good guys lost and the bad guys won.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just finished writing about a Nazi who wants to kill everyone who’s not white, and he’s still walking around free. But this afternoon, I listened to a judge sentence Z Budapest to jail and forbid her from ever reading the Tarot again. The LAPD is trying to criminalize goddess-worship, yet it can’t put a Nazi behind bars. Where’s the justice in this country?” My words fell out in a small, tired voice. I was hunched over, my chin resting on my desk. “I’m so tired of fighting the pigs, Rachel, and seeing our side lose. I just want to sleep for days,” I whispered hoarsely.

“I heard about the Z trial. I’m sorry we lost that one, babe.”

“The good guys are supposed to win in the end.”

“You need to get out of that office.” Rachel’s voice was firm. “Come over here right now.”

I wiped my eyes with my shirttails. “Okay, I’m coming.”

I opened Rachel’s kitchen door without knocking. Her apartment felt like the only safe space in my universe. She hugged and kissed me before I collapsed onto her yellow padded chrome chair.

“We don’t need to talk politics,” she said, scrambling eggs at the stove.

“Good,” I mumbled.

“Besides, I’ve been wanting to ask you something about our relationship.” Rachel brought plates and took the chair beside me. She reached over and brushed the hair out of my face.

“Our relationship?” I mumbled, concentrating on getting my fork to bring the eggs to my mouth.

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