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Margot hesitated. Tucker sighed and reached back into his wallet. He produced another twenty. Pretty much all he had.
“This help?”
“It’s not the money.”
“Then what?”
“What d’you need to know for?”
“Well, Nathan is a person of interest, you might say—his friend might be able to tell us more about him.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all.”
She seemed to consider. “You know my story?”
Tucker did. Margot used to be called Martin. Long time ago. Before Tucker was a regular here. Tucker didn’t care. As far as he was concerned, Margot was Margot. Everyone should be able to live their life comfortable in their own skin.
She lit a fresh cigarette. “I was wearing dresses before anyone had a phobia about it. But I know what it’s like to be discriminated against, spat on, attacked just for who I am.”
Tucker nodded. “Well, that’s something we got in common.”
“Yeah. So, I got sympathy with people who don’t fit in.”
“I hear you. And I only want to talk to this guy. I don’t care if he’s gay or soliciting.”
“It’s not that.”
“He’s underage?”
Margot gave a short laugh.
Tucker frowned. “Then what?”
“He used to come in here a long time ago—”
“When?”
“Must be almost thirty years, before you were a regular—and he looked exactly the same.”
“He’s Colony?”
“His name is Michael.”
Michael. “Dammit,” Tucker cursed.
“You know him?” Margot asked.
“Yeah.” Tucker sighed and reached for his beer. “He’s Athelinda’s son.”
46
“You okay there, sir?” Barbara pulled off carefully down the snowy road. More snow than road now, she thought, gripping the wheel tightly.
“I know what you think,” Beau muttered.
“What’s that, sir?”
