Free Gay Place by Billy Lee Brammer

beached and flopping wet fish of Rinemiller’s ambition. “Nice to know about,” she managed to say.
    Rinemiller shrugged and said something about ventures and gains. He turned to Roy and said: “Appreciate your support, Good Buddy.”
    “You’ll probably get it,” Roy said without enthusiasm.
    “How about right now, though?” Rinemiller said. “I need as many pledges as possible to get this thing off the ground. How about it, Roy?”
    Willie interrupted, and Roy gave his pledge in silence — to do something extraordinarily nice for Willie one of these days.
    “I heard you had an audience,” Willie said.
    “What’s that?” Rinemiller said.
    “I heard you and Fenstemaker had a little visit.”
    “That’s right,” Rinemiller said. “How’d you hear about it. You hear too much. Don’t understand how you birds …”
    “Best tradition of a free and independent and fearless press,” Willie said. “I walked into his reception room and looked at his engagement book … I tell you, it took guts.”
    Giffen’s face came near again. He redraped an arm round Rinemiller’s shoulder. “How ’bout that, hah?” he said. “Ole Alfred’s gonna be our next Speaker … ’Bout time the Liberals in the Lower Body had a man on whom they can depend … on …” Giffen’s remarks were ignored by the others now. His voice faded as he lost track of his own thoughts.
    “What passed between you two old pros?” Willie was saying to Rinemiller.
    “We just visited,” Rinemiller said.
    Giffen looked at Roy and whispered: “Who’re they talkin’ about? Who’s Alfred been visitin’?”
    When Roy did not respond, Ouida explained to Giffen.
    “Was there a laying on of hands?” Willie said.
    “No comment to the press,” Rinemiller said.
    Willie thought a moment. He could not push Rinemiller too far. Rinemiller was one of the original board members of the corporation organized for establishment of the weekly newspaper; was, indeed, the one member most responsible for securing the editorship for Willie England.
    “Not even to your own press?” Willie said. “You ought to take advantage of your sympathetic correspondents before our little non-profit organization folds.”
    “Anything comes of it, you’ll be the first to know,” Rinemiller said. “I believe in that business about rewarding friends and giving those who aren’t as bad a time as possible.”
    Roy wondered what Rinemiller and Fenstemaker had really talked about and whether the Governor had spent the day rousing young people in support of his programs. If there was a threat implicit in Rinemiller’s remarks, it did not disturb Roy: he was more immediately concerned with the possibility of having to work with Rinemiller on the Governor’s public school legislation. He remembered Rinemiller’s imitation of the Governor earlier in the evening and now he hoped it hadn’t been just a performance for the others.
    The new girl named Cathryn pulled on Willie’s arm. “Mencken,” she said, “talked about gay fellows who tossed dead cats into sanctuaries … See? I memorize … What’re they talking about?”
    Willie started to answer, but Kermit’s strident voice came from directly behind them: “Trouble is, there’s no more sanctuaries. They been overrun by all them moneychangers.”
    Crazy Kermit still had his young friend named Jobie in tow. They stood behind Willie and Cathryn, the two of them in identical black shag sweaters and soiled back-buckle khakis. They swayed slightly, together.
    “Here he is, Jobie,” Kermit said. “You met him while ago, but you didn’t really know who he was. Willie — Jobie’s got something for you. Give it to my Good Doctor Willie, Jobie.”
    The young man named Jobie began removing sheets of yellow typescript from a manila folder.
    “What is it?” Willie said. He stuffed bits of meat and potato into his mouth, hoping the spectacle of his eating might hold the visitors to as brief a transaction as