Which is how I learned about the quick bucks on 53rd Street between Lex and Third. How much money you could make just following along. I could use the money. It took all my allowance to pay for the bus trip down and to try to surprise Moms and Patty with a little something. My first time out, I sat on the bus next to some guy who kept rubbing my legs the whole trip to the city. He was the one who told me about the bars and corners on 53rd and how much money he made. What the hell, I thought. Let some guy blow me for twenty dollars, why not? That wouldn’t mean nothing since he was doing the blowing, not me. He was asking me for it, with a crisp new bill folded in his hand. All I had to do was sit in the car like I was waiting for a red light or something. It was the simplest thing. But I was too scared to do anything that first weekend out. I was sure I’d get caught. When you already had a record, even the first one, you had to be more careful.

The second weekend free I made it to 53rd and Third. Just checking it out, see. I didn’t say nothing to nobody. I just stood at the corner. I didn’t even go into any of the bars. What for? I didn’t have no money to spend on drinks. And I didn’t know yet how to look like I wanted something to drink so the men who was buying would notice. I stayed outside, checking the whole scene out until it got cold. I stopped at a nearby coffee shop and had hot chocolate. I didn’t expect nothing there. That’s probably why I looked so relaxed and calm. But this older guy spotted me and sat down at the counter. He ordered a coffee. Black. No sugar. Before I knew what was happening, he pushed a folded note to me. I thought it was just paper and would have thrown it away, but it felt like money. It smelled green. A ten-dollar bill. Then he reached for my check and paid for both of us. I didn’t know what else to do. I followed him outside.

Ruella

Ruella

That spring of 1976 I looked forward to the coming dance con certs and theater festivals. Especially since I was with the Taylor Johnson First Company. We’d been in rehearsals all winter, doing warm-up stretches close to the radiators and with as many leg and body warmers as we could wear and still move around. I thought about Phillip who was getting out on parole. And I thought a lot about Jesse. In spite of all we had been through, he was still my friend. We still fussed like cat and dog, but I couldn’t keep him and couldn’t let him go.