Free Summer of Love, a Time Travel by Lisa Mason Page A

his
palms, his knuckles, between and around his fingers, underneath his
fingernails, digging at the quick.
    “You
jimmied the lock.”
    “No,
no, it was open.”
    “I
don’t think so.”
    He
shrugs. “My name is Chiron Cat’s Eye in Draco and I need a place to stay.”
    Ruby
sniffs. Isopropyl alcohol. Is he a needle freak? But folks like that are notoriously
nonchalant about personal cleanliness. “I can’t help you with that, sonny. Like
I told you, I live alone.”
    “But
you shelter people. Runaways, and people.”
    “No,
you’re mistaken. I don’t. I never have. Oh, maybe a friend now and then. Or a
lover. But I don’t rent rooms. This isn’t a crash pad. And I don’t take in
runaways. Or people.”
    “But
you will.”
    “ No, I never will. I’m not into communes. I like my privacy. I need my
privacy. I’ve worked long and hard to get a place of my own. So you best be on
your way.”
    “I
won’t disturb you.”
    “You
got that right, you won’t disturb me. Try the Print Mint. People crash on the
floor there. Or Trip Without a Ticket on Cole Street, that’s a Digger pad.”
Ruby thinks again. “Try Huckleberry House or Glide Church or All Saints. Or
just walk down the street. There’s always a party. Someone will take you in.
But you can’t stay here.”
    “I’ll
pay you rent. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m used to sleeping on floors.”
    “That’s
a lie.”
    “Yeah,
you’re right. I hate sleeping on floors.” He pulls a wad of new-looking dollars
from his jacket pocket and clumsily hands them to her.
    “What
are these, marked bills?”
    “Straight
from the Treasury.” He chuckles. “I’ll work for you. You need someone to watch
the shop for knickknackers while you’re busy selling. Isn’t that true?”
    Only
too true. Knickknackers account for a couple hundred a month flying out the
door. But what would he take? She studies him. “Why? Why here? Why me?”
    He
smiles, and it’s a lovely smile. A Rich Kid smile with perfect, sparkling white
teeth. He shrugs. “Let’s just say I like your sign. I like your shop and I like
you. You’re different.”
    “Uh-huh.”
But different is good in Ruby’s world. Different is what she’s set out to
achieve. “My pa was half Cherokee and half Irish, and my ma was Haitian black
with a splash of Southern cream. I am Ruby A. Maverick, and you may call me
Ruby.”
    “You’re
beautiful, Ruby. And you are going to let me stay.”
    “Uh-huh.”
She likes flattery as much as anyone, but he’s much too young for her. She’s
old enough to be his mother, she thinks for the hundredth time. Oh hell, she’s
old enough to be everybody’s mother. Well, not quite. But what will
people say on the street?
    What
will people say. The thought of gossip makes her smile. Let
them flap their jaws.
    “I
must be crazy.”
    “You
won’t regret it.”
    “We
shall see.” She shakes her finger at him. “Listen up, Chiron Cat’s Eye in
Draco. No dope and no funny stuff in my house or you’re out on your ass. You
rip me off, I’ll get you busted, I swear.”
    “No
dope and no funny stuff and I won’t rip you off.”
    “We
shall see.” If only she could believe him.
    *  
*   *
    Ruby
takes Chi into her living room with its hardwood floors and Persian and Navajo
rugs. She shows off her herb and cactus planters, her teak and rosewood
furniture. Her stereo record player and reel-to-reel tape deck are connected to
speakers on both private floors. On the white stucco walls she’s mixed Op Art
and Mondrian prints with framed psychedelic posters from the Fillmore and the
Avalon Ballroom.
    “Oh,
I know they’re just posters,” she says. “But one day they’ll disappear.”
    Chi
stares with that odd sense of wonder. “Yes, they will. They’ll disappear and
people will only guess what the real thing once looked like.”
    Cool.
He appreciates art. That’s a good sign. She finds her glass of wine, offers him
some. He declines, also a good sign. Some