chapter 25: redemption
Jack shook his head. “No, man, if I go to that party, I’ll miss church in the morning. And besides, I’m really too sleepy for a party anyway.” he said, yawning.
“Whatever.” said Junior. “Hey, would you do me a favor then?”
“What?”
“Take this shoeshine box with you, and throw it somewhere where I couldn’t never find it again in a hundred years.”
Jack nodded. “I can do that.” he said. “But are you sure you don’t want me to just put it somewhere safe, so you can find it again, in case the job doesn’t work out or something?”
Junior shook his head vigorously. “I don’t ever want to see that goddamn box again. No matter what happens.”
Jack nodded.
“And you were really born here, too? Just like me?” asked Junior suddenly.
“Yeah. – I looked all day today for our old house, but I couldn’t find it. – I was so young when we left, I don’t think I’d even know it if I saw it again anyway.”
“Maybe you can find somebody at the church tomorrow who can tell you where it is.”
“Maybe. – Anyway, I’ll see you around.” said Jack. “I may be coming to town more often until I get shipped out.”
“Okay.” said the boy, handing Jack the shoeshine box. “See you next time I see you.”
The two young men walked away from each other in opposite directions. Jack carried the shoeshine box only as far as the nearest empty doorway. He looked around behind him to see if Junior was watching, but he wasn’t. Jack went into the doorway and set the box against the back wall, where a person looking for it would be sure to find it easily. Unencumbered, he walked on down the street into the darkness.
Junior walked down the Block in the opposite direction slowly, not looking back, and crossed the street and turned a dark corner, near where a shiny luxury car was parked. A tall well-dressed man sat in the driver’s seat, smoking a cigarette. He looked up. “Hey, man.” he said, smiling. “So you decided to come by and see me after all, did you?”
“You still want me to work for you, Leon?” asked Junior.
“I don’t know.” said Leon. “Come around and get in the car, and let’s talk about it for a minute.”
“What’s there to talk about? You either want me, or you don’t?”
“I need to know if you’re ready to work for me, man.”
Junior walked around the car and got in at the passenger door. Leon started up the car’s engine. “Hey, where’re we going?” asked Junior.
“Relax, man. We ain’t going nowhere. Don’t be so jumpy. I’m just turning on the heat so we can be warm for our talk.” said Leon, pushing a button on the dashboard.
Leon sat a minute adjusting the radio until he finds music, then pushed a lever sliding the front seat back as far as it will go. He reached down, unzipped his pants, and reached in. “Do you ever beat it?” he asked.
“What?”
“Beat your meat? Play with your dick? Masturbate?”
“Sometimes.” said Junior, uneasily.
“Well, pull it out, man. Let’s see what you got.”
Junior hesitated.
“What you think they do over behind the Block, man? Why you think they give you twenty dollars?”
Junior nodded unenthusiastically, unzipped his pants and pulled out his penis. “Not like that, man. Like mine, see? Pull it all the way out.” said Leon. “Here, let me show you.”
Leon reached across the seat and put his hand expertly into Junior’s pants, pulling penis and testicles out through the zipper hole. He did not remove his hand from Junior’s genitals. “Put your hand over here on me and do what I do, man.” said Leon.
Junior did as he was told. After a few minutes when Junior was erect, Leon leaned his head into Junior’s lap and took the boy’s penis in his mouth. After a minute, the boy came, and Leon raised his head. “Been a long time since I done that.” said Leon, laughing. “Now you do me just like I did you. And remember, suck, don’t blow.”
In a few minutes, Junior completed the job. “Good work, man. Nice work.” said Leon. “I think you’re ready for behind the Block.”
Junior didn’t look at Leon, and didn’t say anything.
“What do you think, man?”
“About what?” asked Junior. “Does this mean I’m queer now?”
“No, man. It means twenty dollars is what it means.”
“Twenty dollars?” asked the boy, hesitantly. “You mean me pay you… or you pay me?”
Leon laughed. “Me pay you. – Anybody wants you to pay them means you been hustled your own self, man.”
Again, Junior did not say anything.
“Now let’s talk about that twenty.” said Leon. “You keep half, and you give half to me. Cause I’m your manager, see? That’s why I get half. In case you get in trouble with the police. Or need help with one of the old guys not paying you or something. That’s my job. I’m your father-mother-sister-brother. And everything else in between.”
Junior nodded.
“Now we settle up every day. And you don’t do no outside work, now, you hear me? Cause if you do that, you’re cheating on me.”
Junior nodded again.
“And sometimes there are parties. I have a party and invite all my people to come over, see?”
“I’m going to a party tonight.” said Junior. “I’m the guest of honor, on account of my new job.”
“What kind of party?” asked Leon.
“Just a drinking party over at the big hotel. With some friends I met today. They’re having a big party for me.”
“I don’t know.” said Leon. “I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“They’re good guys.” said Junior. “And there may be some girls there, too. It’s not just guys, you know.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
The tall man shook his head. “Well, you can go this time. But be careful. – And don’t drink too much.”
Junior smiled. “Maybe I could start working tonight, if anybody’s interested.” he said.
“No.” said the tall man sharply. “You don’t need no head start, man. You got a lot to learn yet.”
Junior nodded.
“You be here on this corner tomorrow at noon. I’ll just have me a little party my own self. So you can meet some of the boys—and girls. – And don’t you go trying to get no head start. You got a lot to learn before you start working behind the Block, Junior.”
* * * * * * * *
Junior walked though Old Town thinking of Leon.
“Wasn’t so bad.” he thought. “I can get used to it. But I won’t ever like it. Not like he does. First time I ever saw him smile.”
Near the big hotel, Junior paused in the shadows to look at the hot dog stand called FRANKS. The restaurant was dark and closed, but he saw a light in the rooms above it, and knew that Frank lived there. Without knowing why, Junior crossed the street and tried the handle of the front door of the restaurant. Inexplicably, it was open. Silently, Junior entered and slid behind the counter, looking for the cash box. Quickly he found it and emptied the cash into the pocket of his coat. At the bottom of the box was an old gun, worn and rusty from lack of use and care. Junior picked up the gun, and headed to the stairway at the back of the shop.
Junior crept up the dark, narrow stairs holding the gun ready in front of him. Frank was asleep in front of an old television set, in tee-shirt and undershorts, snoring peacefully in spite of the blaring TV. His hand rested gently on his genitals. There was a half-empty bottle of clear liquor next to his chair. Otherwise, the large room was mostly bare. There were two suitcases on either side of the door outside a filthy bathroom, one full of dirty clothes and the other full of clean, unfolded clothes. Magazines and newspapers full of color pictures of naked women were everywhere around the room, especially on and near the unmade bed, which was simply a mattress on the floor pushed into the corner of the dirty room. Full and half-empty bottles of clear liquor were strewn around haphazardly. Junior looked at the old man with loathing, remembering the events of earlier in the night.
Angry, but without considering the consequences, Junior walked to the chair, pointed the gun at Frank’s head, and pulled the trigger. But the gun did not go off. The old man continued to sleep peacefully.
Junior started to pull the trigger again, but did not. Instead, he backed slowly from the room to the stairs and went down the staircase carefully in the dark. Downstairs, he looked once more around the restaurant, again remembering the events of earlier in the evening. Slowly, he put the gun in the other pocket of his coat—away from the money— and quietly left the restaurant, leaving the door unlocked as he had found it.
chapter 26: peep show
Jim woke up and shook his head, trying to bring his senses into focus, coming up on his hands and knees in the filthy corner at the bottom of the stairs. Close to him, just out of reach, a large brown rat stood up on his hind legs, staring at him, looking him over. Jim stood abruptly, frightened, almost bumping his head again, and the rat scurried out the open door. “Bastard.” said Jim. “Eighth floor. I’ll find him.”
Slowly Jim mounted the stairs, fighting his dizziness, thinking about the rat, wondering if it had bitten him, rubbing his face in search of wounds, feeling only the hard knot on the back of his head where Jesús had hit him. Jim climbed up and up, mentally ticking off the number of doors, the entrance to each floor that he passed, until he reached the final door, number eight. He had reached the last door on the last floor. There were no more stairs to climb. “Eighth floor.” he said aloud.
Jim pushed through the door and out onto the roof of the old hotel building. A cold wind fanned him, washing away the sweat of his climb. He watched, fascinated, as the masses of clouds rolled over him across the dark sky. He went to the edge of the roof and peeked over, staring at the surrounding buildings, looking into the adjacent windows. Directly across the alley from the hotel he saw an old man, naked and alone, hunched over in a chair watching television. On the floor above him, an old woman in a white brassiere and white panties paced her rooms, wiping sweat from her chest with a white towel. “The roof. That’s so funny.” said Jim, in a fog. “It’s the roof. There is no top floor.”
Jim laughed, and stumbled around the roof through gathering puddles of rainwater, looking alternately at the massive clouds and through the adjacent windows, constantly returning to look at the old man and the old woman.
“They’re so close.” he thought. “And yet so far away. So far away from each other. They should be together. They‘re only ten feet apart, but so far away. Why can’t they find each other?”
Jim laughed again, feeling the force of wind and rain on his face, wondering what time it was, looking at his wrist, surprised that his expensive wristwatch was still there. “Twelve-thirty.” he said. “Time to call it a night. Time for bed.”
Jim looked around him again at all the lighted windows, surprised that so many people are still up and active. Again, he walked to the edge of the roof and peered over into the darkness. For a moment, he thought about jumping off the roof. “But no.” he said, fishing out his wallet, looking in the cash compartment. “Monica wouldn’t understand. And the rat. The rat would win then. He already took all my money. The rat took all my money. But he left my credit cards and pictures, and my driver’s license and I.D. cards. He didn’t even want my watch, which is worth more than all the cash I had. I got lucky, man, really lucky. Stupid rat! Hell, my old library card is still here in the front pocket.”
Jim put his wallet away, checking his coat pockets and finding stray dollar bills and other bar change. Quickly he hurried back to the roof door and down the stairs and out through the alley to the street. Suddenly, back from the darkness into the light of the street lamps, Jim was no longer afraid. He laughed out loud again for a long time. “Acted like a goddamn fool.” he said. “Deserved to get beat up. Stupid rat!”
“Ugly rat.” he said, laughing more softly, touching his face and hands again, looking for bites, again rubbing the big knot on the back of his head. “Another minute and the son of a bitch would have had me. Bit me for sure. Lucky I woke up. Lucky all the way around. I’ve been lucky all night long.”
The light and the noise of the Block, although much subdued at this late hour, hit Jim’s senses like a hammer blow, forcing him to close his eyes and cover his ears with his hands. He retreated quickly into the nearest empty doorway, stumbling over a box of rags and brushes and shoe polish pushed up against the back wall. An old woman, passing on the street, dressed as a young hooker, stinking of cheap liquor, came into the doorway to meet him. “I put perfume in my cunt.” she croaked, smiling obscenely, her lips painted on her face, twice as large as they actually are. “I’ll suck your dick for two dollars.”
Jim shook his head, backing away from her to the farthest corner of the doorway. The old woman took this movement as assent and followed him deeper into the recess. She pulled open her coat to reveal her withered, naked body, dressed only in a red bra and garter belt. To Jim, the garments appeared orange in the neon-blinking light of the Block and reminded him of the girl from the bar so many hours ago. The old woman backed Jim against the wall and began fondling his crotch, reaching up with her mouth as if she would kiss him. But then quickly she knelt in front of him, unzipping his pants, and trying to reach in. “No, no.” said Jim, pushing her aside and backing out of the doorway, his head reeling.
Dizzily he stumbled to the next door “16 PRIVATE BOOTHS—NO WAITING”, and into the long arcade of a quarter peep-show business. Two firemen, stumbling drunk, stood in front of a display case where cardboard film cartons were tacked beside the number of the booth in which that film could be seen, “What about eight?” asked one man. “I ain’t never watched no lady queers do it.”
“Who wants to watch a couple of women diddle each other, anyway?” said his companion.
“I do.” said the first man.
Jim did not inspect the display case, but went immediately to the end of the long hallway to the last booth in the room and locked himself inside. He sat down on the wooden bench, trying to block out the noise of the street and the chatter of the other customers. He dug through his coat pocket looking for bar change, coming up with a handful of quarters, which he fumbled to put in the slot in the dark.
At once the film was projected on the white square of paint on the battered back of the booth door, soundless, scratched, and with obvious breaks in the film, which had not been properly spliced back together. A fat woman—“She looks like Monica.” thought Jim.—is being savagely beaten, and penetrated through every orifice by three naked, muscular masked men.
Without thinking, Jim reached down to unzip his fly and was surprised to find it already open. He pulled his penis from his pants, and began to stroke it in unison with the fist of the leader of the gang bang, who was beating the fat woman, bloody and senseless, across her blistered back. “That’s not fat.” thought Jim, leaning forward to see the scarred film better. “That woman is pregnant.”
In a very few moments, the pregnant woman ceased to struggle, and the masked leader of the gang withdrew, and turned toward the camera, looking for instructions, slowly removing his mask. Abruptly the screen went blank. And Jim came onto the floor of the booth, his face twisted and intense, but finally smiling in the dark, eyes closed, he settled back against the wall of the booth for a few minutes of rest, and soon fell sound asleep.
chapter 27:
the liquor store
Jesús stumbled into the liquor store, pushing the door open hard, jingling the little bill attached to it violently. The clerk, half asleep, jerked himself awake and jumped from his seat. He moved immediately to the counter and rested his hand reassuringly on the bone handle of a blue-steel thirty-eight caliber revolver. Impassively he returned the stare of Jesús Rodríguez, who faced him across the counter, but he did not offer information or assistance. “Give me a bottle of everything you got in this here store.” said Jesús finally.
“You mean you want to buy it?” asked the clerk.
“Yes, I want to buy it. One bottle of everything you got in this whole fucking store.”
“Sir, that would run into quite a bit of money. Not to mention bags and things. An order like that would have to be placed well in advance.”
Jesús took the crisp, careful roll of money from his jacket pocket and tossed it on the counter. “Give me one bottle of every fucking thing you got in this whole fucking store.” he said again, vigorously.
“But, sir, it would take a great deal of time to get an order like that together. And besides, the delivery truck won’t be running again until Monday.”
“Don’t need no delivery truck. Going to take it with me. – Carry it with me. Ain’t got time to wait for no delivery truck.”
“Yes, sir. But even to carry it to your car. There’s nobody here to carry it out for you.”
“Ain’t got no car. Don’t need nobody to carry it out. I’ll carry it out myself. – You got any boxes? I need a big box.” said Jesús.
“No, sir.” said the clerk. “All we have is bags. And an order like that would fill twenty or thirty of them. How are you going to carry twenty or thirty bags?”
“In a big box.” said Jesús, extending his arms to their full length and width to describe the size of the box he wanted. “You sure you ain’t got a great big box?”
“We save all our boxes for deliveries.” said the clerk.
“Ain’t got time to wait for no deliveries.” said Jesús, stubbornly.
“You got to. – Why don’t you just buy a few bottles tonight and have the rest delivered on Monday? You can’t drink it all tonight, anyway, can you?”
“Oh yes, we can. We’re going to drink it all tonight. Me and my friends. My good true friends. – Them’s some goddamn drinkers, my friends are.”
“Must be a lot of them.” said the clerk, laughing, taking his hand off the revolver under the counter. “And thirsty, too.”
“Sure. I got a lot of friends. Good true friends.”
“I’m sorry, but it would be noon Monday before we could fill an order like that. And besides, it would cost a lot of money. Maybe even more than you got there.” says the clerk, pointing to the roll of cash.
“Noon Monday. – Hell, that’s too late. It’s got to be tonight. It’s a party, don’t you see.”
“Sorry.” said the clerk. “Hey, I could probably give you one of each different kind we got. Like one bottle of bourbon and one bottle of scotch? That’d still be three or four bags. How about that?”
Jesús’s face brightens into a smile. “That would do it, wouldn’t it?” he said. “Oh, and they wanted wine—with the screw caps—no corks.”
“Like the winos drink—we only carry one kind—it’s real cheap.”
“Yeah, give me one bag of just that kind of wine—that’s what they like to drink—and I could put it all in a big box.”
Jesús’ hands described a box only slightly smaller than the one they had described before. “I might have a box.” said the clerk, smiling.
Jesús nodded and began to look around the store for a box that would suit his purpose. The clerk turned to the shelves behind him, looking over the stock. “What other kind of booze do you want?” he asked Jesús.
“Rum.” says Jesús. “The best you got. Three bottles. And three bottles of brandy. She likes brandy.”
“The best? Do you mean the most expensive?”
“Yes, and do that all around, okay? For the brandy, too.”
“Okay.” said the clerk, laughing aloud. “That’ll make quite a difference in the price. – But whatever you say, sir.”
The clerk busied himself pulling bottles from the shelves and putting them into bags, ringing up prices on the cash register. “What kind of party is this you’re having, anyway?”
Jesús, still searching for a box, paused for a moment, thinking hard. “It’s kind of like a birthday party, but it’s more like a good-bye party.”
“A farewell party?”
“Yes.”
The cash register rang with slick, mechanical precision. “Who’s leaving?” asked the clerk.
“I am.” said Jesús.
“Where are you going?”
“Away.”
“And you had to throw the farewell party yourself?” asked the clerk.
“Yes. – Nobody else knows I’m leaving.”
The clerk looked at Jesús, puzzled.
“It’s kind of a surprise farewell birthday party.” said Jesús.
“Sounds like a secret birthday surprise farewell party to me.” said the clerk, laughing.
“Yes, it is.” said Jesús. “Do you want to come?”
“You mean tonight?”
“Yes. – You want to come?”
“Well…thank you, but no, I got to work. And I got to go home and get some sleep so I can come back to work again tomorrow. – I work two shifts on the weekends. It’s like working two jobs.”
“I don’t work.” said Jesús. “You shouldn’t work either. You should quit and not work like me.”
“What would I do for money?” asked the clerk.
“You find it. I could help you. I know where to look for it.”
“Find it?” asked the clerk.
“Find it in the street.” said Jesús.
“What do you mean?”
“Like this.” said Jesús, picking up the roll of money on the counter. “I found all this tonight just laying out there in the street.”
“That’s a lot of money.” said the clerk. “You mean somebody dropped that much money in the street and didn’t come back for it.”
“Yes. Somebody dropped it in the street.” said Jesús.
“How’d you find it?”
“When I need money, I find it.”
The clerk looked at Jesús again, extremely puzzled.
“You got a box?” asked Jesús. “I need a big box?”
“I don’t think so. But isn’t this enough. – It’s probably all you can carry anyway.”
“I guess so.” said Jesús. “How much is it all?”
The clerk punched the total button, and a figure appeared in the little window on the register. “Wow!” said the clerk. “That’s a lot of booze.”
Jesús smiled and broke open the roll of money, and pulls two bills from the inside of the roll. “Keep the change.” he said.
“I couldn’t.” stammered the clerk.
“Keep it.” said Jesús. “And quit that other job, and this one, too.”
“How much money is that?” asked the clerk, pointing to the roll.
Immediately, Jesús pocketed the money nervously. “I don’t know.” he said. “I just found it tonight.”
The clerk pushed two sturdy bags full of bottles across the counter to Jesús. “You sure you don’t want to come?” asked Jesús. “You could get some more bottles. Anything you want. And you could carry them, and I could carry these. And we could quit, and close the store.”
“No…I…my wife would worry. I have to go home.”
“You got a wife?” asked Jesús.
“Yes.” said the clerk, reaching for his billfold. “I got a wife and a kid, and another kid on the way.”
He showed Jesús two photographs from the billfold. “She’s pretty.” said Jesús. “And so’s the baby.”
“She sure is.” said the clerk, smiling broadly. “Better than I deserve.”
“But you said you had two kids?”
“Well, one and a half, anyway.” said the clerk, laughing.
“You got a picture of the other one?”
“No, not yet.” said the clerk, uncertainly, suddenly laughing again.
Jesús picked up the bags. Some of the bottles clinked together noisily as he started for the door. “You sure you don’t have a big box?” he asked.
“Maybe.” said the clerk, looking quickly behind the counter and coming up with a large box. “This should do it.”
“All right.” said Jesús, smiling, putting the two bags in the box. “And a lot easier to carry.”
When he reached the front door, Jesús stopped and turned. “I used to have a wife. And a kid. A long time ago.” he said, hesitantly, but with emotion. “But not anymore. I don’t have a wife or a kid anymore.”
“Really?” said the clerk.
“Yes. Really. – They died and went to heaven.” said Jesús, thoughtfully, closing the door softly behind him as he leaves.
“Damn.” said the clerk to the bottles on the shelves. “That’s a lot of booze.”
chapter 28: joey
“Punched him, Rusty.
Punched him pretty good.
‘You’re fired.’ he said.
Gots to find us another place to stay.
Can’t stay at the church no more.
And she kissed on me. And then she went to home.
Home to Eighth Avenue. He went to home, too.
Mister Charles took them.
Sneaks back to the church tomorrow and steals the balloons.
And the gas and the strings.
‘Gots the Daddy.’
Can always sells more balloons if you gots the Daddy.
Go to see Mister Officer Charles tomorrow.
Tell him about how Old Man Wilsons cheated on me.
And I had to punched him. Had to.
‘He was such a pretty little boy.
Like a son maybe. Just wanted to hug him.’
Everything’s going to be all right.
Everything’s going to be all right now.
Santa Claus is coming to town.”
Christmas, Rusty. Christmas in eight days. Go to the church for Christmas Dinner.
Sit with the nice people. But not with him. Not with Mister Wilsons.
Church gived me these black clothes and white shirt. Gived you a bicycle and tools.
Nice clothes for black. Mostly match. Mostly fit. Makes me look just like them.
For Christmas, they gived them to me.
Maybe they give you new clothes this year, Rusty.
Everything’s going to be all right now.
Waits for me. Waits.
I saw the snowman, and the snowman said, ‘Winter’s coming, going to gets you if you don’t watch out.’
Waits for me. Waits.
Gots the Daddy. Wouldn’t be no more balloons without the Daddy.
Waits for me. Waits. Waits for me.
‘Snowman’s going to get you if you don’t watch out.’
Snowman. Now man. No man.
Waits.
Going to get you.
Waits for me. Waits. – WAITS FOR ME. WAITS.
‘Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.’
Amen.”
streetpeople 