the packet, tossing it over to me.
“Yeah, that’s it. I want you to make three stops. First, over on the west side …”
I could hear her voice in my head, low and cool. You want to throw it all away? All for some hard arms, some hot hands on you. But who said I took a vow of chastity? Who said I couldn’t control it? It won’t interfere, I told myself. The minute it does, he’s gone. If the boys can have their high kicks, garter flashes on the side, why can’t I have something too? Something to get my heart going, chest heaving. Can you hear my breath go fast, even now? Christ…
∞◊∞
The next night when I got to his place, I could tell he was half in the bag, stinking of Jim Beam. He wasn’t a big boozer, so I wondered what was doing. “Baby doll,” he said, collar askew, grin wide, “I’ve been redecorating.”
As I followed him into the living room, my heels slipped hard into long ridges in the carpet.
“Trail of tears, baby,” he said genially. “All that’s left.”
That’s when I noticed the living room furniture was gone.
“Repossessed, as they say. Like I was one of the spooks who plays your policy games.”
“The store or Amos Mackey?”
He laughed, shrugging. “You got me, beautiful. It was all gone when I got back from the Rouge Room. So I figured I’d celebrate my … liberation from material possessions.”
He was talking too big, even for him. I read it like this: he’s a lot more shook up than he’s been letting on.
He took my hand, jamming my fingers together painfully. “I figured we’d celebrate.”
“The Rouge Room, eh? Moving with real high rollers now, are we?”
His eyes narrowed, just slightly. “What, you think I can crawl outta the cuff I’m in by laying down fins at the Coronet Dry Goods cockfights?” There was a new, gravelly tone in his voice.
I brushed by it, hadn’t seen him hot under the collar yet and didn’t want to. It looked like it might not be pretty. “So how’d you do,” I asked, setting my bag down on the window-sill.
“I did okay, Ma,” he said, trying for teasy but not meeting my eyes. He turned toward the bottle set on the radiator and poured me a paper cup full. “You know what kept distracting me, though?”
“What?” I asked, downing the drink.
“This little redheaded number next to me was blowing dice for her
man and I could see down her dress.”
“I get it.”
“No you don’t. Nothing special, believe me. But she was wearing
this baby blue negligee under her dress. I could see the lace on the top edge.” He poured me another and took a swig himself.
“Yeah?”
“Well, baby, damned if it wasn’t just the color of this vein …”
“Vein?”
“You can hardly see it, but it’s there. ”
“On me?”
“Yeah you.”
“So where is this vein?”
He moved closer, bottle still in one hand, pressing my stomach.
With the other hand, he pushed me against the windowsill, then reached down and tugged up my skirt. His hand was there and then gone.
“Right here, baby. I can feel it now. I don’t need to see it, ‘cause I can feel it right here. Can you?”
“Yeah.”
It was Friday late afternoon, an hour before I met up with the old lady for our weekly dinner. My head was all jammed up about Vic. I kept thinking maybe there was something I could do without showing my cards. Maybe buy him some time. But I didn’t know Amos Mackey like that. And if I did, I couldn’t risk it getting back to Gloria.
The only dealing with him I’d ever had was a month or two back at the While-a-Way Cocktail Lounge. I passed by his table on my way to talk to the owner in his back office. As usual, he was surrounded by grinning municipal types and buying rounds, shaking hands like he was running for mayor, which maybe he was. When I got to the office, the owner, a real deadbeat, started griping about his payments, complaining about the boys who collected it. Everything. He was giving me a song and dance.
Finally, he
“Yeah, that’s it. I want you to make three stops. First, over on the west side …”
I could hear her voice in my head, low and cool. You want to throw it all away? All for some hard arms, some hot hands on you. But who said I took a vow of chastity? Who said I couldn’t control it? It won’t interfere, I told myself. The minute it does, he’s gone. If the boys can have their high kicks, garter flashes on the side, why can’t I have something too? Something to get my heart going, chest heaving. Can you hear my breath go fast, even now? Christ…
∞◊∞
The next night when I got to his place, I could tell he was half in the bag, stinking of Jim Beam. He wasn’t a big boozer, so I wondered what was doing. “Baby doll,” he said, collar askew, grin wide, “I’ve been redecorating.”
As I followed him into the living room, my heels slipped hard into long ridges in the carpet.
“Trail of tears, baby,” he said genially. “All that’s left.”
That’s when I noticed the living room furniture was gone.
“Repossessed, as they say. Like I was one of the spooks who plays your policy games.”
“The store or Amos Mackey?”
He laughed, shrugging. “You got me, beautiful. It was all gone when I got back from the Rouge Room. So I figured I’d celebrate my … liberation from material possessions.”
He was talking too big, even for him. I read it like this: he’s a lot more shook up than he’s been letting on.
He took my hand, jamming my fingers together painfully. “I figured we’d celebrate.”
“The Rouge Room, eh? Moving with real high rollers now, are we?”
His eyes narrowed, just slightly. “What, you think I can crawl outta the cuff I’m in by laying down fins at the Coronet Dry Goods cockfights?” There was a new, gravelly tone in his voice.
I brushed by it, hadn’t seen him hot under the collar yet and didn’t want to. It looked like it might not be pretty. “So how’d you do,” I asked, setting my bag down on the window-sill.
“I did okay, Ma,” he said, trying for teasy but not meeting my eyes. He turned toward the bottle set on the radiator and poured me a paper cup full. “You know what kept distracting me, though?”
“What?” I asked, downing the drink.
“This little redheaded number next to me was blowing dice for her
man and I could see down her dress.”
“I get it.”
“No you don’t. Nothing special, believe me. But she was wearing
this baby blue negligee under her dress. I could see the lace on the top edge.” He poured me another and took a swig himself.
“Yeah?”
“Well, baby, damned if it wasn’t just the color of this vein …”
“Vein?”
“You can hardly see it, but it’s there. ”
“On me?”
“Yeah you.”
“So where is this vein?”
He moved closer, bottle still in one hand, pressing my stomach.
With the other hand, he pushed me against the windowsill, then reached down and tugged up my skirt. His hand was there and then gone.
“Right here, baby. I can feel it now. I don’t need to see it, ‘cause I can feel it right here. Can you?”
“Yeah.”
It was Friday late afternoon, an hour before I met up with the old lady for our weekly dinner. My head was all jammed up about Vic. I kept thinking maybe there was something I could do without showing my cards. Maybe buy him some time. But I didn’t know Amos Mackey like that. And if I did, I couldn’t risk it getting back to Gloria.
The only dealing with him I’d ever had was a month or two back at the While-a-Way Cocktail Lounge. I passed by his table on my way to talk to the owner in his back office. As usual, he was surrounded by grinning municipal types and buying rounds, shaking hands like he was running for mayor, which maybe he was. When I got to the office, the owner, a real deadbeat, started griping about his payments, complaining about the boys who collected it. Everything. He was giving me a song and dance.
Finally, he
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