"The Outsiders" 21
By Gaedhal
Atlanta, Georgia, July 1979
"What the fuck kind of a place is this anyway?" asked Brian in exasperation.
Brian and Justin had been walking around the mammoth Peachtree Center in downtown Atlanta for about an hour, staring at the over-the-top decor, being jostled by shoppers, and looking for a quiet place to eat.
"It's a mall," Justin said firmly. "Sort of."
"I thought malls were just big shopping centers?" said Brian. "Since when do they have waterfalls? Or squawking parrots in cages? Or hanging gardens? What is this supposed to be? Babylon?"
Justin laughed. "If it was, then I think we'd see a lot more queers!"
Brian sniffed. The place was giving him a gigantic headache. "That clothing store we were just in didn't seem to be lacking in the fag quotient. That one guy couldn't keep his fucking hands off my dick in the dressing room!"
"He was admiring the scenery!" Justin smirked. "And he gave you a nice discount on those designer jeans."
"That's another thing," said Brian. "$30 bucks for one pair of jeans? It's ridiculous! I think I'm paying for all the water they're wasting on the waterfalls, not to mention all the parrot food."
"You have plenty of money in the bank," Justin pointed out. "So why not spend a little of it on yourself? You deserve it!"
"But if my book tanks, we might have to live on that money until I can find a job," said Brian, expressing the fear that was constantly nagging at him. "That is, if I can find someone who'll hire a guy with no college degree and 10 years of prison time behind him." Yeah, thought Brian, someone who ISN'T Ron. The last thing he planned to do was to go to work for his former jock.
"It's not going to tank!" Justin declared. "And those jeans look great on you!" His eyes strayed to his lover's ass as they walked through the Food Court. "That's not really a lot to spend on a good pair of designer jeans, Brian. They're Calvin Kleins."
"Calvin Klein! Who the fuck is Calvin Klein?" Brian griped. "And why should his name be on my ass? It's crazy that people would pay all that money just to advertise some guy's name. HE should be paying ME to wear this shit!"
"Come on," Justin teased. "It's fun to shop in this place! You're having a good time. Admit it, Brian. And it's fun to be in a big city like this after all those small towns we've been staying in."
"It's okay," Brian conceded grudgingly.
Atlanta was a lot bigger and much more intimidating than Pittsburgh. That made Brian nervous. All of these strangers. Too many unknown faces. Too much traffic, too much noise.
But Justin was right -- it was exciting to be in a city like this. While Pittsburgh was old and worn and dark, Atlanta was full of new, shiny buildings and new, shiny people. It seemed a city that was looking forward instead of brooding over a lost, decaying past. The whole place seemed to be shouting, "Get moving! It's almost the Eighties!"
And the people were friendly. Brian liked their drawling voices and easy smiles. They reminded him of Em back in the Quad. He wondered how far Hazelhurst, Mississippi was from Atlanta.
"This is too noisy," Brian said flatly as he glanced around the teeming Food Court. "Maybe your cast-iron stomach can digest your lunch here, but I'd like a little peace and quiet."
"Excuse me," Justin said to a burly security guard leaning against a pillar. "Can you suggest a less hectic place to eat in here? Or somewhere nearby?"
"Sure," said the guard, narrowing his eyes at Justin. "You boys from out of town?"
"From Pittsburgh," Justin replied tentatively, remembering that Brian hated it when Justin offered what he considered too much information.
"Then you boys will be wanting some good Atlanta home-cooking." The guard directed them towards one of the long concourses to a cafe in a quieter corner of the Peachtree Center. "Go all the way to the end. Ruby's is on the left. Ask for Rowley and tell him that Bubba sent you down. Y'all enjoy yourselves, ya hear?"
"Thank you, sir," said Brian, nudging Justin along. Even a harmless security guard in a khaki uniform reminded him a little too much of the C.O.'s in Stanton.
Ruby's Restaurant was an oasis from the bustle of the Peachtree Center. Both men ordered the $5 lunch special -- a huge plate of pork barbecue, collard greens, mashed potatoes, and cornbread, with a slice of peach pie for dessert.
And Rowley turned out to be a whip-thin queen with platinum blond hair and a flirtatious manner who seemed delighted with his Yankee visitors.
"How do you like them greens, Sugar?" Rowley asked Brian as he refilled his glass of Coca Cola. "Bet you don't get fine food like this up North!"
"Very good," Brian acknowledged. "But this is an awful lot of food just for lunch. If I ate like this every day I wouldn't be able to fit through the door to leave the house!"
Rowley laughed. He was eyeing Brian's muscular arms in his sleeveless denim shirt. This was quite a tasty hunk of man! And his little blond boyfriend was cute, too. "In Atlanta we like to eat well, but we also work hard. And we play hard, too. You gentlemen down here for a little fun and games?"
"We're on our way to Florida," said Justin, digging in to his peach pie. "We're on vacation."
"Honey, I LOVE Florida!" Rowley squealed. "Fort Lauderdale and Miami are all right, but they're too full of old men lookin' for young chicken. I like Key West the best. You thinkin' about goin' down Key West way?"
"Haven't decided yet," Brian said shortly as he pushed back his empty plate. He had to admit that the food at Ruby's was good. And there was plenty of it for the money. "Is the house where Hemingway lived still there? Can you go inside it?"
"I don't know about this Hemingway person, Sugar," said Rowley. "But there are an awful lot of fine men down in Key West."
"He was a writer," Brian sighed. "He wrote 'For Whom the Bell Tolls.' And he lived in Key West."
"Does he hang out in the bars? At Delmonico's? Or the Monster?" Rowley asked. "Half the gentlemen in Key West claim to be writers, but I wouldn't know about that. I'm too busy to read anything but 'The National Enquirer' and 'Movie Screen'!"
It was all Justin could do to keep himself from laughing out loud at the way the skinny queen was playing up to Brian. And Rowley reminded him so much of Em and the queens in the Quad that it almost made him homesick.
"Do you know any fun places to go in Atlanta?" Justin piped up. "I mean, dance clubs? Or... other places?" It was obvious that Rowley had known they were gay from the minute they walked in the door of Ruby's, but Justin was still hesitant to ask a stranger outright where the gay bars were located -- especially in a Southern city.
"Justin..." Brian warned.
"I'm only asking," Justin replied innocently.
"And there's no harm in askin', Honey!" said Rowley. "Folks in this town are friendly -- especially in helpin' out a couple of, um, 'lively' gentlemen like yourselves."
In many places it was still taboo to say 'gay,' let alone 'queer,' in public. So men used other code words to identify themselves. Lively. Flamboyant. Gifted. Interesting. "Do you know so-and-so?" one queen would say to another. "Do you think he's 'interesting'?" And as utterly 'flamboyant' as Rowley appeared, certain habits died hard, even in easy-going Atlanta.
Rowley totaled up the lunch check and placed it on the table. "I hope y'all come back and see us again," he said. "And this is for you, Honey." He winked as he slipped Justin a piece of pink paper, folded in half. Then he headed over to another table to take their order.
Brian frowned, a finger of jealousy poking him in the gut. "What did he give you?"
Justin opened the paper. Then he grinned broadly. "Rowley's invited us to a party tonight. At a place called Illusions. It's a free pass for two. To see, according to this flyer, 'The Lovely Ladies of Atlanta In Person On Stage.'"
"Lovely Ladies?" said Brian. It sounded like a strip club. "What the fuck, Justin?"
"We're definitely going!" said Justin. "To 'The South's Premiere Drag Show'!"
"Drag show?" Brian groaned. "Oh, shit!"
("Outsiders" graphic by Every9seconds)