Butterflies in Heat by Darwin Porter Read Free Book Online Page B

what that would be like. Even though I don't have a husband, I can still be taken to the grocery store in a limousine every time I want a quart of milk."
    "Why are you confiding in me? You have every right to hate me."
    "I just know, I can feel you're joining the household. Tangerine, Ralph, and I are the permanent fixtures. The Numies of this world come and go. You're the new me. If you're going to be joining our happy home, you might as well know something about us."
    "She gave no indication I had the job."
    "Nor would she. That's not how she operates. Believe me, I know her well. Now, if you'll excuse me."
    Through the office doors and into the patio, Numie was blinded by the afternoon sun. The air was so hot he could hardly breathe.
    From the upstairs window, a velvet drapery swung into position. Was Leonora watching?
    Quickly he made his way through the open door, through the garden, through the iron gate, and out onto the street.
    Then, and only then, did he slow his pace.

Chapter Five
    Back in the hotel lobby, the clerk was holding Numie's key.
    "The key, please," Numie said.
    "The bread, man. You should have paid in advance. You didn't."
    "Okay," Numie said, "I'll go to the bank. Cash a check. Now give me the key."
    "Man, you've got no checks to cash. We both know you're in town to hustle our ass. You'd better find a john if you want that room back tonight."
    "Okay, shithead," Numie said. "Keep the room and my possessions, too. Why not?"
    On the street, the day was moving in. Numie was breathing hard.
    Ralph's gold watch glistened in the sun. In the comer, Numie spotted two Cubans sitting on a bench under a palm.
    "Is there a pawn shop in this town?"
    "No," one of the Cubans said. "No hock. What are you selling?"
    "It's gold." Taking it off, he handed it to one of the Cubans.
    The man fingered it softly, then held it up and listened to it tick. "Give you five dollars."
    "Five dollars—for a gold watch?" Numie said, retrieving it. "Not my gold watch." He walked on down the street.
    That left his remaining chance. The black drag queen, Lola La Mour.
    She repulsed him. But she wouldn't be the first person he'd slept with who did.
    Walking faster now, he could almost feel her lipstick-coated mouth snaking his sweat-drenched body. Maybe he could have sex with her and blot out the vision of what she was. After all, a hustler in his position could hardly select desirable bedmates.
    "Damn it!" he said aloud. "Paying for it's the only way a creep like you is ever going to get near me." Imaginary conversations he'd never have with Lola. Suddenly, he was aware he was talking to himself. But there was no one on the street to notice or care.
    It wasn't that Lola was black. He'd gone that route many times before. It wasn't even that she was a black drag queen. That was familiar turf too. It was her being both black and a drag queen in a small redneck southern town. The tolerance level toward blacks must be low enough. But toward black drag queens, the worst. Or was the worst reserved for a white hustler willing to sell his body to a black drag queen?
    "What the hell?" he asked finally. "A one-time shot in the dark." He laughed bitterly at his own pun.

    At Commodore Philip's, the white Facel-Vega glistened in the afternoon sun.
    Inside, not one customer. Only the bartender, Lola, doing her nails.
    Brushing back her platinum wig, she stuffed a cigarette into her holder with such masculine force she surprised even herself. Then, with more delicate and ladylike fingers, she lit it, blowing smoke rings into the air.
    Breathing deeply, she held out her breasts, making them seem larger than they were. For the life of her, she could never understand what men saw in such things. Breasts repulsed her, particularly hers today. They were sagging absurdly.
    She nervously studied her reflection in the powder-smudged mirror of her compact. Her make-up wasn't staying on right, but running in the heat wave. If she didn't repair it instantly,