Buster Midnight's Cafe (19 page)

Whippy Bird said how come he wanted to marry May Anna and how come he tried to take advantage of her if he was a fruit. May Anna told us sometimes they were like that. Besides, he had to keep up appearances since there were rumors going around about him. If his fans found out he was a homo, he’d be dead in that town, May Anna said. She told us that some of your most famous leading men were homosexuals, and they were even married and had kids. When Whippy Bird said that was a rotten thing to do to your wife, May Anna explained that some of the wives were homosexuals, too, so it didn’t matter. Whippy Bird told her two wrongs don’t make a right.

Mr. Reide beat up May Anna because she told him she wouldn’t go out with him anymore. She threatened to tell people about him if he didn’t leave her alone. May Anna couldn’t tell all that to the reporters, because how would it look if she was dating a homosexual? Besides, people might not believe her, and feel sorry for John Reide instead of Buster.

By the time the trial date was set, May Anna wasn’t talking to the reporters any longer, so they interviewed other people about her, like the preacher who marched back and forth in front of the courthouse with a sign saying
THE WAGES OF SIN IS DEATH.
When I told Whippy Bird about him, she said she thought the wages of sin in Hollywood was a big white house with naked statues.

The odd thing was with all that snooping around, those reporters never found out May Anna had been a hooker. One newspaper man called me and Whippy Bird, though, and asked wasn’t it true that May Anna and Buster had a baby named Moon that we were raising. He’d found out May Anna had pictures of a little boy all over her house.

Whippy Bird wasn’t mad. She just laughed and laughed and invited the man to come to Butte and she’d show him Moon’s birth certificate. Besides, she said, May Anna was already in Hollywood when Moon was born.

Just before the trial started, May Anna called and begged us to come and stay with her. She was hysterical because studio people were telling her different things she should do and she didn’t know which way to turn. Unless we were with her, she said, she couldn’t get through the trial.

Whippy Bird asked, but the Anaconda Company wouldn’t let her take any vacation, so I had to go by myself. May Anna said she’d send me a ticket, but I told her no. I owed Buster plenty, and I would spend my own money.

I took a Pullman instead of getting a private room, and I couldn’t help thinking that I surely had a much better time when me and Whippy Bird went to see May Anna than I had by myself. I didn’t even enjoy the food, though I ordered meat loaf, which I usually like, and a baked potato, which came in a separate dish with a little flag on it. I couldn’t eat it, which is a switch for me. Even when Pink died, I kept my good appetite.

Thomas, the chauffeur, met me again, but we didn’t talk about any Grauman’s Chinese Theatre or tar pits. I wanted to sit up front with him so he could tell me what was going on, but he said that wasn’t proper, that May Anna wouldn’t like it. So I sat in the back and leaned forward, but he still didn’t say much that me and Whippy Bird didn’t know already. He told me May Anna was still upset, which I knew, and that they were all surprised that the newspapers were against Buster, which we knew, too. Thomas called Mr. Reide a faggot worm because whenever he borrowed the limo, he never tipped.

That was the first time I knew you were supposed to tip the limo driver, and I surely was embarrassed. I said me and Whippy Bird were a pair of nincompoops from Butte, Montana, and I owed him money. He told me it was a pure pleasure to drive us around, and he didn’t want any tip from us because he had such a nice time. He must have meant it because when he drove me back to the depot after the trial, I tried to give him some money, but he told me to save it to buy a drink in the club car.

He warned me not to talk to any of the reporters, who were always hanging around May Anna’s house, but I knew about dealing with them from the days of Buster’s training camp. Two of them were standing in May Anna’s driveway. “No comment,” I said when I got out of the car before they could even ask me a question. Thomas said I didn’t have to worry about them since they were guards the studio sent over.

“I’m glad you’re here, Effa Commander,” he said when he carried my suitcases up to the front door. “So many people are telling Miss Street what to do, it’s good she’s got somebody around who loves her.”

“And Buster, too,” I said. Like Whippy Bird said, I wasn’t out there just to help out May Anna.

When I walked into the living room, I saw right off May Anna surely did not look like the Queen of the Silver Screen. Her eyes were red. There were lines on her face that I hadn’t seen when we were there the year before, and she’d lost weight. She must have weighed less than ninety pounds. She was nervous, too, pacing back and forth, putting her cigarette down then forgetting it was there and lighting another. But I didn’t say you look like hell, May Anna. Instead, I hugged her and said that since Whippy Bird was right with us in spirit, we were the Unholy Three together again.

I recognized May Anna’s agent, whose name was Eddie Baum. She introduced me to another man named Jim McDonald, who was a press agent from Sing Sing. They were discussing her testimony, and when I asked where’s the lawyer, the agent said he didn’t want to take up my time when he was sure I was tired and wanted to rest up after my trip. May Anna said she felt better with me in the room, though, and since I didn’t come all the way from Butte to rest up, I stayed. So they ignored me.

“Now that we’ve settled the makeup, wardrobe is making up a black suit. Fitted waist but not cut too low,” Jim, the press agent said.

“Don’t you think a dress would be better, maybe a little Peter Pan collar? You know, innocence?” Eddie asked. He patted May Anna’s hand until she put it in her lap.

“Nope. Confusing. She’ll never play Joan of Arc after this. But if Marion pulls it off, she’s got a shot at
The Sin of Rachel Babcock.
She needs it after that
Debutantes at War
bomb. We don’t want her to look like she’s in training for the Virgin Mary.”

“Do you really think I have a chance?” May Anna asked.

“A good one, baby, if you handle yourself right,” Eddie told her. He moved to sit on the arm of her chair then leaned against her shoulder.

May Anna nodded. “What about a hat? Maybe a little black one with a veil.” May Anna stood up, walked back and forth for a minute, then sat down in another chair.

“No veil. We don’t want to cover the face. The cameras’ll zero in on it. A picture hat’s too flashy. I’ll talk to wardrobe. A bow, maybe. You could start a fashion trend,” Jim told her.

They talked about her shoes and her purse and even whether her hanky ought to have lace or not—they decided lace.

“You know, you’re dead in the water if you say Reide was queer, don’t you?” Jim told her. “You hear me? The man’s a fallen idol. You say he’s queer, and they’ll tear you apart. Remember, fallen idol.”

May Anna nodded.

“But watch the tough act. You want to generate a little sympathy for yourself, too,” Eddie added. “It means scratch, kiddo. The Lux endorsement is riding on this. You tie yourself in too close to Buster, and you’ll lose it.”

“Buster saved her life,” I said. I knew they didn’t want me to interrupt, but I had to. They were talking about the wrong things.

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” Eddie said. “We are talking about saving a major screen talent here.”

“And you’re not talking about saving Buster,” I said.

“Your friend is already dead. Nothing’ll save his career. You want Marion here to go down right along with him? You’re nuts.”

I looked at May Anna, but she was lighting another cigarette. Nobody said anything. Finally May Anna looked up and met my eyes and shrugged. “I’m so tired, Effa Commander,” she said. “That’s why I wanted you to come. I need a friend.”

“It looks like Buster needs a friend, too.”

“I’m trying to be one, but I don’t know what else I can do.”

I tried, but just then I didn’t feel as sorry for her as I did for Buster. After all, Buster saved May Anna’s life. It didn’t look like May Anna was going to return the favor. “What you have to do,” I said while the two men glared at me, “what you have to do is tell the truth.”

“Oh, truth,” said Jim after he gave a silly little laugh. “What’s truth? There’s truth and there’s truth. The truth is your friend Buster did the world a favor by rubbing out that scum John Reide, who was a queer and a drunk and a cocaine head. I’m sorry Buster’s in the soup for croaking him. Nice guy, too. But the truth is, Marion Street will never star in another picture if she squawks because she’ll be tarred with the same brush. Ever heard of Fatty Arbuckle? You want to put the kibosh on your chum’s career?”

“The way I see it, I got two chums. I’m trying to keep one of them out of jail. What you’re saying is a God-damned bunch of hooey.”

“Says who? Are you a big lawyer who knows all about defending a murderer?” Jim sneered. I wished in the worst way that Whippy Bird was there. She’d know what to say.

“Now why don’t you write some picture postcards or go bowling?” Jim said. “You want to go on a tour of the studio? We can arrange it.”

“I don’t want to do anything but stay with May Anna,” I told him.

I looked at May Anna. Her face was so sad. Then I noticed the bottle of gin and the empty glass beside it on the table. May Anna filled it and swallowed the gin in two gulps then filled up the glass again. I remembered once Whippy Bird said Hollywood was a lush place and so were the people, and I wondered if May Anna was one of them now. “Please, Effa Commander,” May Anna said.

I didn’t know what she was saying please about, but it seemed to me they weren’t listening to anything I said, and I was making May Anna more upset. Besides, Buster had a lawyer. He surely knew what to do without my help, so I backed off. “I think I’ll walk down to the drugstore and get a soda.”

“Take the limo. You can’t walk,” May Anna said. So Thomas took me all the way over to the drugstore where Lana Turner was discovered. I treated him to a Barney Google, which you make with marsh-mallow syrup poured over a coke. I had a black-and-white, which is a chocolate soda with vanilla ice cream. I figured since he’d been driving me around, I could pay, and he said thanks to you, Effa Commander.

I didn’t say anything more to May Anna about her testimony. What good would it do anyway? Instead, I tried to calm her down by acting like we were kids again. At night we pretended it was a regular slumber party like me and Whippy Bird and May Anna had in Butte, only this time we didn’t sleep three in a bed. I put on my nightgown and May Anna got into her silk pajamas. Then I brushed her hair, and she set mine in pincurls. After that, we put on nail polish, only it wasn’t Cutex but some expensive kind that was made up in a special color just for May Anna. And all the time we drank bourbon and ate chocolate popcorn that I made.

I didn’t spend all my time with May Anna. Half my reason for being there was to help Buster, so I took the limo down to the jail once to see him. The guard said he couldn’t have any more visitors. I said Buster was family, but the policeman said that’s what they all say. So I didn’t see Buster until the trial. I sat right in front of him. He didn’t know I was staying at May Anna’s, and when he spotted me, he broke into the biggest grin you ever saw. I was glad I was there because it looked to me like I was Buster’s only friend.

The trial just went on and on and was the most boring thing I ever went to even though I tried hard to follow it so I could write it up every night for Whippy Bird. The highlight was May Anna’s testimony. The day she took the stand was the only time she came to court because the studio made her stay away. Besides, there were crowds that gathered around her when she went out in public, and she couldn’t stand that. I was with her in the limo on the trip to the courthouse that day. May Anna was as nervous as she was when she went to the charity tea party on West Broadway. The minute we got out of the car, flashbulbs popped in our faces just like at a movie premiere. Whippy Bird saved me a picture from the
Montana Standard
that showed May Anna with me behind her, only it didn’t give my name or say I was from Butte.

May Anna did just what she said she would. She cried little dainty tears and dabbed at her eyes with the lace hanky. She told the jury John Reide beat her up so she ran to her bedroom to get her gun. Then Buster came in and fought with Mr. Reide, and the gun went off. But she didn’t say Mr. Reide was a queer and a drug user. Of course, it wasn’t May Anna’s fault because the studio ordered her not to.

The prosecutor called May Anna a liar who was trying to protect Buster because she was afraid of him. Then he called Buster a jealous maniac and a drunk who gunned down a true English war hero on purpose.

The jury was out for a day. When they came back, they said Buster was guilty of involuntary manslaughter. Later one of the reporters interviewed a juror who said Buster hurt his case by not testifying. He said if May Anna was telling the truth, why wasn’t she there every day, backing up her man?

Of course, Buster took it like the champ he always was. He didn’t complain. Buster never in his life said he’d been robbed in a fight, and he didn’t say he’d been robbed in a court of law. Before they took him away, he hugged me and said not to worry. I told him May Anna should have been there, but he said it didn’t matter. “I did the right thing. I know I did the right thing.” He hugged me again even though the policeman was pulling at him. “You and Whippy Bird are the best friends May Anna ever had. She needs you now that I can’t be here. She’s got to have somebody watch out over her. Don’t blame her. She did the best she could.” I told Whippy Bird he worried more about May Anna than he did about going off to prison. Whippy Bird said it wasn’t the first time in his life Buster was a sap about May Anna.

After they hauled Buster off I got in the limo and went right to May Anna’s to tell her Buster was found guilty, but she already knew. In fact, she was in the middle of a press conference in her living room. She was wearing white again, and I heard her say that Buster was her dear friend who was only defending her virtue, whatever that was. She also said John Reide was a poor misguided man, and she would miss him. I didn’t want to hear any more of that, so I went upstairs to May Anna’s bedroom and called Whippy Bird. Not collect. I figured May Anna could pay for it now.