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Show Woodworth/195 face relaxes into its set smile again. "When everyone was wearing their hair long, my parents thought that it meant all the guys were gay. Now you think that guys who dress well are gay. It's happened. You're part of the older generation now." "In fact," Gary continues. "I wonder how many of the guys here actually meet with each other afterwards. There's probably some kind of a secret code that goes on. So while it looks like they are picking up women, they are actually checking each other out. Then they give each other the sign, and that means, 'meet me in the alley after', or something like that." "Can't we talk about the weather, or something?" Rachael interjects. "It seems like everywhere I go, the conversation ends up being about sex. I mean, I know we're supposed to be in the middle of a sexual revolution and all. But couldn't we talk about something other than the day's battles and skirmishes once in a while?" "I always thought it was a subject of ultimate interest to you," Gary says, turning to Rachael. Angry, Marty starts to speak. "And I always knew it was of ultimate importance to you," Rachael snaps. Confused, Marty settles back in her chair. There is something warm and white about Warren, a cloud in the corner of her vision. That's where safety is. There's no past, no innuendos, no hidden meanings. A cloud that she can hide in, with no complications. Somehow, Gary got complicated. With this Warren, she can be anything. She looks towards him, ready with a half smile and shining eyes. He is turned away from her, looking out over the bar. Following his gaze, she sees a hoard of them, a bubbling, milling corral full of clouds, carefully decorated |