Last Night at the Telegraph Club(70)

“Thank you,” Lily said.

Kath sat down beside her, and the softness of the sofa caused them to bump together. Kath nearly spilled her drink and apologized, but before she could scoot over Claire reappeared, carrying a martini. When she sat down the cushion sank toward her, and then Paula arrived, and everyone had to squeeze together to make room. Finally the four of them were seated properly, with Lily’s right leg and hip and shoulder pressing close against Kath’s warm left side. Lily sipped her drink; it was sugary and sweet, and filled with bits of canned pineapple and mandarin oranges.

One of the women in Levi’s sat down in the Chinese chair next to the end of the sofa near Lily. She was dressed like Marlon Brando in The Wild One, with a leather jacket and thick-soled black boots, and her short dark hair was combed into a pompadour, shiny with pomade. She had a round face and brown eyes, and she gave Lily and Kath a frankly curious look and said, “You two are new, aren’t you? I’m Sal.”

Lily and Kath clinked their glasses with hers. “Lily.”

“Kath.”

“Did you come from the club?” Sal asked. “How was the show tonight? I missed it.”

They talked about the Telegraph Club for a few minutes—or Kath and Sal did, while Lily sipped her drink and tried to pretend as if she went to these sorts of parties all the time. Over in the corner by the record player she saw two women laughing, one woman’s arms looped around the other’s neck as if they were about to start dancing.

“We don’t see many Orientals around here,” Sal said to Lily. “Do you speak English? Where are you from?”

Lily stiffened. “Chinatown. I was born here.”

Sal looked impressed. “You don’t even have an accent. That’s amazing.”

“I was born here,” Lily said again, a bit more sharply.

“I thought all the Orientals in Chinatown only spoke Chinese.”

“No.” She hoped that her short tone would make Sal drop it.

“Hey, Patsy,” Sal called across the room, “there’s an Oriental over here—where’d you meet that other one? Over at Blanco’s?”

Lily was grateful for the sofa then, for allowing her to sink back; if only she could sink through it to the other side, where it would hide her from their scrutiny.

Patsy turned out to be a redhead in a red-and-white-checked dress that reminded Lily of a picnic blanket. She came over and perched on the arm of Sal’s chair, while Sal’s arm snaked around her small waist. “Hello, I’m Patsy,” she said, extending her hand.

Lily sat up with some effort and shook Patsy’s hand reluctantly.

“Where was that?” Sal continued. “Blanco’s? Is that where you saw that girl?”

Patsy leaned against Sal’s shoulder. “I’ve never been to Blanco’s. That place is for Filipino dykes. What do I look like?”

Sal laughed and squeezed Patsy’s waist, causing her to squeal. “Where was it then? I swear it was recent—you said there were gay girls there.”

“The Forbidden City,” Patsy said promptly. “Have you ever been there, hon?” She looked at Lily.

“No,” Lily said again.

There was a commotion over in the dining room, and a moment later Tommy entered the living room with a martini in one hand, scanning the faces as if she were searching for someone. Tommy had taken off her tuxedo and put on gray flannel pants and a blue collared shirt with the top button undone. Of course, Lily realized, the tuxedo was a costume, and now Tommy was at home. And yet she still carried herself the same way, as if her onstage persona was barely more than a gloss over her real life.

Sal yelled, “Terry! Over here!”

Lily didn’t know who Terry was, but when Tommy saw Sal, she came over to join them, pulling over the other Chinese chair. Patsy smiled at Tommy and lifted her face for a kiss, and Tommy obliged, planting one on her cheek. “You look good, Pat,” Tommy said, and then reached over to shake Sal’s hand. “It’s been a while. Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for the invite,” Sal said. “Sorry I can’t make it to your show tomorrow night—my budget’s kinda tight.”

Tommy shrugged and sat down, placing her martini glass on the coffee table. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. “So’s mine.”

“You could make some extra bucks with those fans of yours,” Sal said, grinning. “Remember that dame who followed you up to your dressing room?”

Tommy looked bitter. “If she figured out I’m actually a woman, she would’ve called the cops.” She shook her head. “How’re things with you?”

“Good. We were just talking about the Forbidden City, since you have an Oriental guest here.”

Sinking through the couch wasn’t enough, Lily thought. She wished she could sink all the way through to China. At least then she’d blend in.

Tommy’s eyes flickered from Sal to Lily. “Yeah, the China doll’s been to my show a few times. You like it, sweetheart?”

Lily’s face burned, and she felt Kath tense up beside her. “Of course,” she forced herself to say politely, reminding herself she was Tommy’s guest. “It’s wonderful.”

Tommy grinned. “Wonderful.” She sat back, crossing her legs, and took a deep drag on her cigarette. “You know, I heard the Forbidden City had a male impersonator once.”