Beebo Brinker Chronicles 4 - Journey To A Woman by Ann Bannon Page A

arms.
    "Oh, you're here!” she cried. “Thank God! Did you bring it?” Beth could feel the tremor running through Vega and watched her with fascination as she seized the package of whiskey.
    Beth stood just inside the door, her coat and gloves still on, content to be in Vega's presence, content to smell her perfume and feel the air she stirred when she moved. Vega was swathed in a full peignoir of several varicolored layers that floated and swirled around her. It gave the illusion that she was rounder and softer than she was.
    Vega busied herself with the bottle, opening it with a finger nail file and pouring herself a drink in the bathroom glass. Beth realized slowly that they were completely alone. The girls had banded together in the other rooms, and the fact that she and Vega were there by themselves, locked in a hotel room at nearly three in the morning, exulted her. She felt Wonderfully strong and strange, gazing at Vega, who had softened and relaxed with the warmth of the whiskey and was settling herself on the bed.
    Vega smiled up at Beth and said, “Come and sit with me and tell me how evil I am.” Her smile was both sad and inviting, and suddenly the curious strength Beth had felt washed out of her and her knees began to tremble. She was afraid to move, afraid any move she made would be the wrong one.
    Vega frowned slightly at her, perplexed. “Beth, darling, you can't just stand there in your coat for the rest of the night. Take it off and come here."
    It was such a frank proposition that Beth wondered suddenly how Vega could be gay, as Cleve said, and not know it. It just couldn't be. She wanted to rush to her, grasp her hands and sink to her knees and say, “Vega, Cleve has been lying to me. He says you don't know yourself, he says—"
    "What do you mean?” said Vega, and Beth realized, with a little gasp of horror and surprise, that the words had virtually spoken themselves, so intensely was she involved in her thoughts. Her face went a hot deep pink and she moved at last slipping out of her coat wordlessly embarrassed.
    "What did Cleve say to you, Beth?” Vega was strung up tight again, leaning forward to catch each word.
    "I shouldn't have said anything,” Beth murmured. “I—I just had a drink with him this afternoon. He told me a lot of guff. I think he was just tight” She went anxiously toward the bed and suddenly Vega burst into a beautiful smile and laughed in her cautious, lovely way.
    "He told you how charming you are and how wicked and depraved I am, no doubt. He thinks it's his mission in life to warn decent people away from his nefarious sister.” Her laughter brought a breath of relief to Beth, who smiled gratefully at her. It gave her the courage to come and sit beside her, and when Vega offered her the glass and poured her a drink, she took it as a sign that there were no hard feelings. She didn't want the liquor, just Vega's esteem, Vega's warmth and favor. But liquor was one way Vega had of showing her approval and it had to be accepted.
    "He's been telling people for years how rare I am,” Vega went on. “How immoral. How faithless and frigid. I ... was married, you know,” she added abruptly, her eyes bright on Beth.
    "I know."
    "Oh, so he told you that too.” And she laughed again, putting her head back a little. Her hair was loose, not wound into the graceful roll she usually wore, and it fell, two feet of it, in silky luxury down her back. Beth had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch it, and she was relieved when Vega straightened up and resumed her story. “I was married twice, Beth. They were nice enough guys. That wasn't the trouble."
    "What was the trouble?” Beth said and felt her throat constrict with excitement It was such a perfect opening for a confession.
    Vega turned her bottomless brown eyes on Beth and touched her knee gently, letting her hand rest there. “You blurted out a minute ago—to your own embarrassment, obviously—that Cleve thinks I don't