"Spring Break" 9
By Gaedhal
Part 9
The Antique Market, March 2005
"Tommy!" George poked his partner in the ribs. "See what's
coming this way."
Tommy looked up from dressing a 1967 Midge in a pink
sundress and followed George's gaze. "Too pretty!" he
exclaimed. "I just love young and juicy blonds."
George rolled his eyes. "Not the little blond, you berk! The
tall dishy number in the black leather jacket! You are such
a chicken chaser, luvie. I don't know what I'm going to do
with you."
"It's too late to get rid of me now," Tommy said smugly.
The two men had been romantic partners for 21 years and
business partners for 18. They had met when Tommy was
on a buying trip to England in 1984. He was looking for
antique silver settings and he found them at a shop on Portobello
Road. He also found George on Portobello Road, lounging outside
the Duke of Wellington pub, and they had been together ever
since. Now they owned their own shop just outside of the village
of Wiley, Pennsylvania, but their weekends were spent at their
booth in the Antique Market, exhibiting (and sometimes even
selling) examples from their extensive collection of vintage
dolls and toys.
"Hey," Justin greeted them. "Are you Tommy and George?"
"I'm Tommy, honey," Tommy said delightedly. "And this
older gentleman here is George." George was exactly 13
months older than Tommy, but Tommy never let him
forget it.
"Mrs. York at the Fieldstone Inn said that you have dolls.
I'm looking for something for my sister," said Justin. There
were a lot of older dolls arranged on a large table, but Justin's
eyes kept moving to the impressive Barbie display on the
miniature stage against the wall. "She used to have a lot of
Barbie dolls, but nothing as elaborate as the ones you have."
"Why bless Mrs. York for directing you here," Tommy
gushed. "I'll have to send her a thank you note!"
"You do that, luvie," George sniffed. He wished that his partner
wasn't forever falling all over the youngest pretty boys. It
was embarrassing, especially at Tommy's age.
But the young man's boyfriend -- now there was something
much more to George's liking! He was a real man and that always
caught George's fancy. He was tall and perfectly groomed and
turned out, even in casual jeans and a leather jacket. In fact,
there was something very European about the man's sense of
style. About the way he had his hair cut. His perfect manicure.
And his skin looked as if he took time with it as well. It was
unusual to see an American man who took such attention with
his looks these days. Younger Americans always looked messy
to George. Like they didn't care how they appeared to others. Or
as if it wasn't manly to care about your appearance. But this
fellow was both stylish and manly. Yes, George liked that very
much. Let Tommy fall all over the skinny piece of chicken and
leave the other one for George to drool over!
"Don't you think Molly a little old for Barbie dolls?" Brian asked.
"She's 12, Brian," said Justin. "She'll be 13 in October. But she
still has a lot of dolls in her room. She doesn't play with them,
but she has them."
"Oh, my dolls are not for playing with, honey," Tommy interjected.
"They're all collectibles. What young lady wouldn't love to display
beautiful dolls like these? Here's a lovely one. It's a 1965 Barbie
wearing a vintage dress." He took down a doll wearing a long, tight
black dress. The doll was posed in front of a plastic microphone
stand as if she was about to break into song. "This is 'Solo in the
Spotlight.' It's a classic." Tommy smiled fondly at the doll. "Perfect
condition! See the hair? And the earrings? You'd never know this
doll was 40 years old."
"She must have a really good plastic surgeon," Brian deadpanned
to Justin. "With the accent on 'plastic.'"
Tommy shot Brian a scathing look, but George laughed out loud at
his comments. This fellow was a real mixer, he was! George
enjoyed seeing someone take the piss out of Tommy occasionally.
His partner took everything so seriously, especially his dollies!
Too seriously, to George's mind. To him, antiques were a business,
not a frigging religious vocation.
"How much would a doll like this cost?" asked Justin. He thought
Molly would go nuts for something like that. He extended his hand
to touch it, but Tommy pulled Barbie away from his grasp.
"Oh, she's not for sale," said Tommy, setting 'Solo' back on the
wooden stage. "But a doll like it might go for anywhere from
$500 to $800 -- depending on condition. of course."
"$500?" Brian almost spit. "For a fucking Barbie doll?"
"It's a collectible, young man," Tommy said grandly. "And in
first-rate condition."
"Yeah, every piece of trash we've seen today is a 'collectible' --
supposedly," Brian huffed. "But I haven't seen anything yet that
I'd pay 5 cents for let alone $500!"
"We're going to look around a little more," said Justin, taking
Brian's arm. He thought it might be a good idea to move on before
Brian really insulted the man and his dolls. "But we'll be back
later."
"And we'll be right here, young man," said Tommy. "We're here
every weekend, from Friday to Sunday. Let me give you my card."
He handed Justin a business card embossed with the names of
Tommy and George alongside a drawing of Barbie.
"Jesus," said Brian as he and Justin worked their out of the main
building. "Guys like him give flaming queens a bad name!"
"He was a little over the top, but the dolls were really beautiful,"
said Justin.
"Yeah, and fucking expensive, too," Brian said. "It's one thing to
buy a kid a toy and another thing to make it into some kind of
fucking fetish. That guy is way too into those dolls. I thought he
was going to hyperventilate when you reached for that Barbie.
I bet he doesn't let anyone even breath on the things!"
"That's because they're valuable, Brian," Justin reasoned, wanting
to give the older man the benefit of the doubt.
"Listen, my collection of Armani suits is valuable -- for as long
as they're in style. The minute they're out of style, then they're
fodder for the Goodwill. The same with anything. It's just stuff,
Justin. It's nice to have and nice to use. But once it's served its
purpose, then get rid of it."
"Your friend Michael collects comic books," Justin reminded
him. "And he has a store and sells them to other guys who collect
comic books. So it isn't just freaky old queens, Brian. It's a lot of
people. Maybe those things make them happy? Maybe they help
them remember their youth or something? That's not a bad thing."
Brian shrugged. "It depends on whether or not you want to
remember. When I was a kid I used to have a bunch of model
airplanes that I made. I kept them on my shelf and was pretty
proud of them. But that was when I was 11 years old. Now I'm a
man and I have different priorities. You might say that I collect
other things."
"Like guys?" Justin asked bluntly. "Tricks?"
"Maybe," Brian replied, but his voice was more subdued. "Like I
said, you more on. Other things start to seem more important than
things you valued so highly when you were younger. Those model
airplanes would look a little silly in the loft. And maybe a lot of
other things would, too -- now."
Justin slipped his hand into Brian's. "Let's find the guy with the
prints, Brian. And after that -- how about some lunch? I'm
starving!"
"The Taylor Food Clock strikes!" Brian laughed. "Okay. You lead
the way!"
And Justin did exactly that, but not before he leaned up and kissed
Brian, right in the middle of the Antique Market. Yes, he needed
to do that. And Brian needed to have it done.
Priorities, after all.