Gigi giggled. “Hon, if you think that’s a ring in Joe’s nose—well, I’d better never think so. Joan, I left Sam a good month before I let Joe give me that ring and marry me. Cubical and comical, couldn’t believe he meant it. I can’t think of another couple we know who are married. It’s nice—but I still get the giggles. Sure you stay if you want to. We got a cot to set up—not much but we’ll put Joe on it.”
(Watch it, Boss! This is dynamite—ten to one Joe won’t be on that cot.) (Of course not. I will be. Think I’m a fool?) (Sadly, I do, Boss. You’re lovable—but you just barely have sense enough to stay out of lifts. Not out of beds.) (Joe wants me to pose, I pose! If he wants anything else, he can have that, too! Anything.)
(That’s what I thought.) (Eunice, Joe doesn’t want me. Gigi is his woman now.) (Okay, twin. But when did I last hear you say that marriage isn’t a form of death?)
Joe Branca appeared to regard the matter as settled; housekeeping details seemed of no interest to him.- He said,
“You oil after shower?” and reached out and fingered Joan’s left ribs. “No. Gigi.”
“Chop chop, Joe.” Gigi ducked into the bath, returned with a bottle of olive oil. She said to Joan, “Lanolin is as good, but I’d rather smell like a salad than a Sheep. Joe, get her ribs; I’ll do her leg. Then we give you a quick oiling all over, hon, and wipe you down. Get all off that your skin doesn’t absorb. Mmm, some red paint back here where you can’t see, but olive oil cuts it. Joan, I’ve had twice as good a complexion since Joe has been making me take care of my skin.”
“You have a perfect skin, Gigi.”
“Joe’s a tyrant about it. Now for a wipe down.”
“Not too much wipe,” Joe warned. “Need highlights in cheat shots.”
“Easy on the wipe down. Some oil on me, Joe?”
“Da.”
“Okay, Maestro. Joan, we’ll polish each other bone dry before we go to bed. If we’re not too tired to care—no importa, disposable sheets. Joe, are you going to tell your slaves what this pic is?”
“Sure, need acting. Gut acting. Lez pic.”
“Hunh? Joe, you can’t put Joan in such a pic. You can’t.”
“Wait, Mate. I don’ draw comic books. You know. Pic so square can hang in church. But symbols so gut-loaded old butch pays top money. But—Joan Eunice, can change face if you say?” He looked anxious.
“Joe, paint the way you want to. If somebody recognizes me in. one of your paintings, I’ll be proud.”
“Okay.” Rapidly Joe Branca built a low platform of boards on boxes, heaped floor cushions on top, covered it all with a ragged heavy cloth. “Throne, Gigi first. Gigi butch, Joan Eunice sweetheart.” He moved them like lay figures, shoving them into position like a butcher handling meat, so that Gigi was supported by cushions while she held Joan in her arms and looked into Joan’s eyes. Joan’s position figleafed Gigi; Joe raised Joan’s left knee so that she figleafed herself. Then he placed Gigi’s right hand under Joan’s left breast, not cupping it but touching—stepped back and scowled.
—stepped forward, changed the composition slightly, moving them so little that Joan could not guess what difference it made. Apparently satisfied, he shoved cushions in more tightly so that each could hold the pose without strain.
He placed a platter just below them, slanted with careful casualness. “Is Greek lyre,” he said. “Title, ‘Bilitis Sings.’ Song just pau, action not yet. Golden moment between.” He looked at them carefully, still scowling. “Joan Eunice, you knocked up?”
Joan was very startled. “Does it show? I haven’t gained an ounce.” (Erase and correct—nineteen ounces.) (Yes, but not enough to show. Aside from pizza just now, I’ve stuck to Roberto’s diet. You know I have.)
Joe shook his head. “Figure not show. You happy, Joan Eunice?”
“Joe, I’m dreadfully happy about it. But I haven’t told anyone yet.”
“Be easy, Louisie; Gigi don’ yatter.” He smiled in benison and Joan saw for the first time how beautiful he could be. “What counts, you happy. Happy mama, happy baby. Knocked-up broads look different. Better. Skin glows, muscles firm, folds under eyes fill out. Whole body better tone. Eye can see but most can’t see what they see. Lucky I got you for model right now. But solves problem been eatin’ me.”