up to his slender waist. He zipped the flap shut with one quick jerk.
"You're closed up now … so you just as well forget about sex … go on … relax …" he said to his image as he ran a tan belt through the loops of his trousers. He opened a leather box and put a handful of change in his pocket. Backing away, he looked at himself again.
The room became brighter; as bright as the thoughts that danced within him. No memories of sleepless nights, pointing fingers, cruel slaps and remarks entered his mind. The old feeling of wanting to be alone was gone. He was remembering last night. Those lost nights before there was any Robert Blake; nights of his boyhood and loneliness were gone. He carried the golden myth before him and it kept him warm and happy.
New Orleans; it was a word, romantic and full of legends. Tomorrow night he would be there with his parents … but his bronze God could not be with him.
"I've got to practice, Gay," Blake had said when he had asked him to accompany them to New Orleans. "I'd love to go. If I wasn't Captain, I'd go, but Gay … I just can't."
"I don't want to go either, then," Gaylord had sighed.
"Now don't be that way. You'll have a good time without me. There's so many things in New Orleans. I'll have to tell you about an experience I had there sometimes."
"What."
"I'll tell you sometimes … You're too young to hear it tonight … There are some places in that old city I'd love to take you … I'd just like to see your reaction …"
"What kind of places, Bob?"
"Places for fellows like you and I … places … oh you'll find out … Maybe you'd understand yourself more if you went to a couple … You'll find them …"
"I don't know what I'll be looking for … places … there are so many … places …"
"Just go down Bourbon Street … you'll find them … You'd better not like them too much and forget to come home … If you do … I'll come and get ya."
