Page 372 - Some Dance to Remember

342 Jack Fritscher

13

On New Year’s Eve, Ryan drove alone to the rocky outcropping of
Corona Heights. He pulled his VW Rabbit up to the curb below the
gravel path that led to the crest of the mountain. For a long while he sat
in the car with the engine running. He wondered how many people in
San Francisco had sat in lonely debate behind the wheel of their parked
cars wagering whether to drive to the Bridge or not. But it wasn’t Death
he wanted. It was Death he feared. It wasn’t even Logan. Not really. Logan
was Kick’s bad boy. Logan was Kick’s Teddy. Ryan understood all that.
What he wanted was Kick himself.
We’ll leave the city. We’ll move to Wyoming or Colorado. Someplace
clean where they’ve never heard of drugs or disease or dirty sex. Maybe some
small town in Texas.I’ll sell Bar Nada and the Victorian. We’ll buy a little
place—Oh, God, this is sick. I want to take him off to a cottage by the sea. I
don’t believe I’m even thinking this!
Ryan looked at his eyes in the rearview mirror and laughed at him-
self. “Oh, God!” he said. “Please, please, please.” He laughed again. “Oh,
Jesus! I sound like Teddy begging not to be thrown out. Does everybody
pleading make the same stupid sounds? Please? Please? Please? Praying is
degrading.”
This New Year’s Eve was very different from the end of the year before.
That night Kick had driven them down Valencia Street to the Devil’s
Herd, a gay country-western bar with a live band. It was one of the few
times they ever went out. It was the first and only time they had danced
together. They had held back against the wall around the dance floor
watching the gay boys in their cowboy drag two-step to “Cotton-Eyed
Joe” and line dance to the foot-stomping “Elvira.” The band finished its
set. The jukebox took over. The crowd of dancers broke up and headed
back to their beers.
Kick surprised Ryan. He dragged him onto the empty dance floor.
Anne Murray was singing “I’m Happy Just to Dance with You.” Kick
pulled Ryan close into his crotch.
“Come here,” Bama-Alabama drawled. “Let’s do a real buckle polisher.”
For the first time, they slow danced alone on the floor. Ryan was
in heaven. Kick danced as good as he posed. Ryan ignored the jealous
remarks.”
What’s that guy got that I haven’t?”
The record stopped and Ryan stood a beat longer with his arms
around Kick’s big shoulders. Another record dropped, and again, Murray’s

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