Free Tapas on the Ramblas by Anthony Bidulka

shot at identifying them. "I'd say you're right about Faith and Thomas. The hunky dark brute sitting next to them must be their son, Nick. Then their daughter, Marsha, with her hubby, Ted."
    "The bland-looking couple?" Errall confirmed. "What is she doing with her hair?"
    I gave Errall a skeptical look. "Are you sure you're a lesbian?"
    She held up the back of her hand to me and sweetly asked me to pick a finger. As it turned out, I only had the choice of one.
    "And next to Marsha and Ted are their three kids," I kept on. "The twin boys...I forget their names right now, N somethings, and the girl, Kylie or Kyla or something."
    "Boy, you're really on top of this case, aren't you?"
    And for the millionth time I asked myself, "Why did I bring her along?"
    "The other sister is dead, right?" Errall continued, seemingly unaware of the thoughts running through my head.
    "Hope. Yes. Many years ago. The other older guys must be her widower, James, and his son-in-law, Patrick, also a widower. And the black guy is Patrick's son-in-law, Jackson, also a widower. He's a jazz musician."
    "That leaves one young woman. She's a doll."
    I nodded my agreement. "Very pretty. That would be Harriet, Jackson's daughter."
    Errall nodded, her eyes still on the not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman.
    With our Wiser tour complete, I didn't want to appear antisocial to our dining companions, so I turned to "Phyllis" and made a bit of a show of admiring her astonishing resemblance to the character played by Cloris Leachman on The Mary Tyler Moore Show. She was perfect, right down to the thin, small-breasted body outfitted in a tight top and flared out pants, large bun of hair with a maze of crazy tendrils atop her head and short, unpolished nails. I said, "I'm surprised you're not dining with Mary and Rhoda." Really, what else was there to say? How's Lars?
    "Those two bitches," she said in a gravelly growl loud enough for the entire table to hear. "They think they're so much better than me. Mary thinks she's so perfect and nice. And Rhoda...well, please, just look at her and look at me."
    "Rhoda is pretty funny," Cherry suggested helpfully from across the table, obviously not used to dealing with the sometimes considerable ego of drag queen mentality.
    Phyllis turned an evil eye upon the slight woman, her mouth an ugly grimace and one painted-on eyebrow arched high into her hairline.
    "You might be wondering how I put this table together," Richard broke in, smoothly diffusing a potential hair-pulling, bastard punch (the lesbian version of bitch slap) situation. "FOD is one of my favourite carriers on the sea, and whenever they try out a new route, such as this one, I like to make the voyage at least once myself so that I can speak knowledgeably about it to our clientele. And when I do, I like to spend time and, if possible, have dinner with the clients that are on board."
    "So we're all customers of GrayPride Tours then?" Melissa asked.
    "That's right," Richard told the table.
    "How many people on this ship are your clients?" Errall asked.
    He turned his fine smile on her. "We have eight separate groups, almost thirty people in total."
    "Well, we're privileged to be the first seven," I said.
    "Completely my pleasure," the dashing Mr. Gray responded with a wink and nod in my direction. Was he flirting or was that just his way? I decided I liked the attention and wanted more. So I thought up an inane question. "Can you tell us, in general, what type of people are your clients?"
    "GrayPride caters almost exclusively to upscale GLBT clients.. .and their friends.. .mostly guppies..."
    "Guppies?" Melissa asked.
    He: laughed a nice laugh. "Gay yuppies. They've got money and like to spend it on exceptional service, exceptional food and wine and exceptional locales around the world. To answer your question, Russell, my typical client wants a bit of adventure-but nothing too dirty; expects to pay more-but not be taken advantage of; and declares a day perfect when he or she has