The door bell to the first-floor apartment rang a little before 11:30pm and Josie Cane reduced the volume of SERPICO on TV. None of the cops in Times Square were as good-looking as Al Pacino and she was glad to be spared any fixation for men in uniform. Nurse, nuns, and cheerleaders were another story and she suppressed her fantasies, for her late-night caller was probably the Chinese delivery boy with her moo sho pork. Chinese food and the Tonight Show would have to pass for paradise tonight.
>The black stripper pulled her night gown tight and opened the door to find Tammi on the steps. Tears had run her mascara and the little redhead was carrying a plastic bag. It had to contain her clothes.
“Sorry to disturb your night off.” The teenager stood pigeon-toed with her head cantered to the side, obviously embarrassed. “That offer for the couch still stand.”
“For tonight and forever?” Josie glanced over the young girl’s shoulder at the Lincoln parked by the curb. It was new and the boy inside stared at Tammi, as if he had bet his heart on Josie’s reneging her offer of hospitality. “But your gentleman friend appears like he could offer more comfortable accommodation than my old sofa.”
"Keeping him a friend will make insure he stays a gentleman.” Tammi waved to Charles and squeezed by Josie into the basement apartment. he black woman locked the door and followed the redhead, who sat heavily on the sofa to release a heart-breaking sob. "From that 'I lost Ken' expression on your Barbie face, I'd have to say that they’re repainting the Honeymoon Suite at the Terminal Hotel.”
“I never thought I could feel this bad.” Tammi shucked her white leather coat. The Catholic schoolgirl outfit smelled of mothballs and her hair had unraveled like cotton-candy in a summer storm. Breathing in the fragrance of a young girl in love, Josie cursed her vow of friendship. “I told you Sean was no good."
"You say that about all men."
"Men are dogs and given the chance they'll embarrass a dog.” Few men were saints and the girls at the Dollhouse sadly excelled at collecting bastards. “I had a friend. She was getting married to her high school sweetheart. The wedding was beautiful and the best man insisted on joining them on the honeymoon in Bermuda, where he seduced the newlywed bride and they ran away. Did they live happily ever after? No. He went back to his wife and left the bride to find her own way home. Happily ever after, bah.”
“I thought Sean was different.” Mostly because she wanted to be someone other than the girl she had left behind in Maine.
“Well, you thought wrong.”
”This afternoon I watched the student couples. They looked so sweet, but the men couldn’t just hold hands with their dates.” Hugging her knees, she asked, "Are there any nice men?"
"Gay men are nice, but only because they have sex with men and understand what kind of motherfuckers men are. The human race is lucky to have survived this long with the way men treat women. I mean how did we have sex with a hairy man who hits you over the head with a club and drags you into a stinky cave?"
The lump in her throat choked most of Tammi’s smile. "You ever see a caveman drawing like that?"
"No, but men have evolved to whacking us with drink or drugs, instead of a club." Josie was dying to comfort her with a hug, except the redhead deserved a friend more.
"So let me guess. Sean did something stupid?"
"No, I did. I trusted him." Tammi blew her nose.
"You can only trust people up to the point where they will fail you.”
Tammi burst into tears and Josie fought off joining the young girl’s crying jag, but one of them had to act strong and she handed the redhead a towel, then listened about Sean's vow, his OD, her leaving, and Charles' sister. "…..and Charles gave me a ride."
"Wait a second.” Any girl at the Dollhouse would kiss Fatso’s ass in Macy’s window to hit on a millionaire. “A rich man is easier to love than a poor one.”
"Charles doesn’t light up my life."
“Light up your life?” Josie laughed and Tammi made a face.
"Sorry, girl, sometimes I forget I was young once. Hell, you love this boy?"
"No, you’re right. I’m stupid.” She hated herself for loving his stopping on the highway and coming to the Dollhouse as much as his embrace, his smell of his skin, his voice, and his touch in the early light of dawn.
“We’re all stupid, when it comes to love. You done with him?”
“I walked out.”
“Walking out doesn’t bury the ghosts. You really done with him?”
“No.” She wanted him back. She wanted to feel him in bed next to her. She wanted to be in love. “No, I’m not done with him.”
"Ain't no little bird gonna win him back. You have to be a flying hawkwoman. Stick your claws into him and pluck his heart, otherwise it's a waste of your love." Josie seized the redhead. "You're a Dollhouse dancer. Sexier than Raquel Welch. More fire than Cleopatra Jones. Corporate bigwigs drink champagne from your sweaty shoe. Executives buy your underwear. How hard can it be to win a rocker's heart?"
"A breeze?" Tammi had no idea of its cost.
"Not a breeze, a ‘herricane’." Josie emphasized this tempest by blowing on her arm and the young girl smiled. "See, you have life inside you yet, just be careful with your wishes. You’re a star. I’ve seen it on the stage. I bet I'll see it with that band.”
“You will.”
“And then you’re not the kind of woman to throw away the world to clean a man’s underwear.”
"I'm throwing anything away," Tammi announced with a defiance forged by her years as Kittery High's whipping post.
The young redhead's eyes widened in expectation of Sean’s arrival. Josie went to the door. Tammi lowered her head upon seeeing that the caller was the Chinese deliveryman. Josie paid the bill and asked, "Wei emigrated illegally. Why you working, Wei?"
"To make a kung-fu cowboy movie in Hong Kong. You be star?" Wei asked excitedly. “Make you a star in Hong Kong.”
"Not tonight, Wei," Josie tipped him a dollar and locked the door. "Everyone comes here with a dream."
"Even you?"
"No one wants to hear this whore’s tale of woe.” The black woman had shackled her past in the closet and took a bottle of rose wine from the refrigerator. She placed the bottle and two glasses on the coffee table, then changed the channel. “Here’s Johnny.”
Tammi turned her head to the TV. Johnny Carson was starting his monologue on the Tonight Show. Sean liked watching Carson and her heart rippled with sorrow.
"I'm not in the mood for Johnny."
"That's too bad. James Brown is his guest tonight." Josie loved the Godfather of Soul.
"Maybe we could watch him a little, but until then I'd like to hear your story."
"And drink a little wine?" Customers inevitably requested an explanation for her landing on 42nd Street. She had told so many versions, she had no idea which was the right one anymore, but she had a story to suit this occasion and she carried two jelly jars of wine to the couch. “It's not a story for the sober.”
“Then pour and let your unconsciousness be your guide.”
Josie filled their glasses to the brim and clinked the young girl’s glass. "To old memories getting older and us aging a day,"
"To them getting so old you forget them." Tammi added and they drained the glasses, because getting drunk was the one sure way to insure she could tell the truth the next day without regretting having to live a lie.
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