Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/186

 "Down the street at the hotel."

"Where ya goin' now?"

"Just walking."

"Just walking?"

"Yes, sir." Gaylord wondered just exactly what the officer was getting at.

The officer stared for an instant at Gaylord, and then announced, "You're not going to one of those queer joints, are ya?"

"Queer joints?"

"Yeah, queer joints."

"No, sir … I'm not going to a whore house, if that's what you mean. I'm just walking to Canal Street and then I'm coming back to the hotel."

"Okay, Sonny. Don't stay out too late … This town is full of women like that one who just left … Be careful and if you need help just call a cop."

"Thank you … thank you very much."

Well, breathed Gaylord with a sigh of relief after the cop had gone and he was again on his way. The evening has certainly started out with a bang, he thought. Queer places … wonder if he did mean whore houses … guess he did. Yeah … that's what he meant.

He turned to the right when he reached the broad street. God, how beautiful, he mused, fascinated by the large moving signs, the heavy traffic, the clanging of the street cars down the wide center of the street. He stood there, just looking, his eyes wide and round, his lips in a broad grin. He wished for Blake or Rogers again. He stopped at the show windows and looked at their displays.

A stout woman carrying two suitcases passed him. She was uttering cuss words to herself. She paid no attention to his gaze. Passed on as if she hadn't seen him. Gaylord was just as glad to have her past. He walked on slowly.

He noticed two young men walking toward him. One was masculine looking. His hairy chest showed behind the unbuttoned shirt opened almost down to his waist. He was very dark and his eyes seemed to dance as they met Gaylord's. The other boy was frail, a femininity covered his every movement. His thin eyebrows made a high counterfeit arch over the blue tinted eyelids and his hips swayed 176