“Hi, doll.” He turned around. “We’re drowning our sorrows.” He gestured at Laura with his glass. “So I see. Mind if I drown a few with you?” “We’d be delighted.” Beebo nodded at the bartender, who nodded back and fixed her a whisky and water. Beebo was on good terms with the bartenders in all the gay bars. They knew what she drank and they served her without being told. Beebo leaned on the counter between Jack and Laura. “Where’ve you been, doll?” Jack asked, waving a hand at her dress. “Masquerade ball?” “Party,” she said laconically, hoisting her newly arrived glass. “Gay?” “Straight.” “How dull. What’s the matter with you, Beebo? You’re no fun anymore. You wear skirts and go to straight parties. Jesus.” Beebo grinned at him. “I have one dress, lover. I get it out once a year and wear it. In honor of my father. He likes dames.” “Yeah, but he’s not around to appreciate it.” “Well, you are, Jackson. Give me a kiss.” And she took his chin in her hand and extracted one from his reluctant mouth. “God!” he said, and made a face. Beebo laughed. And Laura sat and watched them and wondered what they were all doing there and why they laughed at themselves when they were all aching inside from unspeakable hurts. She felt vaguely jealous to think of Beebo at a party with people she didn’t know and had never seen. Beebo surrounded by women. Laura looked at her until Beebo returned the stare without talking, only looking at Laura until Laura had to lower her eyes. “What’s eating you, Bo-peep?” Beebo said, running a finger around the edge of her glass. “Are pants really that important?” Laura said. She said it sarcastically because she was afraid of her tears. Beebo laughed a little. “I don’t know. How important is _that_ important?” “Why don’t you get a decent job?” “Oh,” said Beebo as she understood. She finished a second drink. “I’ve got one, baby. I’m a lift jockey. Very elevating work.” “Not funny,” Laura said. “You work all day at a lousy job like that, and then you drink all night.” “Does that bother you?” “Yes. Not very much, of course. You’re not worth it. But it seems awful. All for a pair of pants.” Beebo laughed. “Reform me, baby.” “I don’t have time.” “What do you have time for?” “Work.” “And Marcie?”