Jason Starr - Twisted City

I imagined climbing on top of her thin, heroin-addicted body; although the idea disgusted me, there was something exciting about it too.

"Come on, lemme relax you," Sue said, rubbing her nose. "I mean you look so nervous, pacing around. I'll make you feel real good, baby.

What do you say?"

"The answer's no."

She was quiet for a few seconds, then said, "Okay, I'll give you the Upper West Side business writer's special. I'll suck your cock for twenty-five."

I looked away, shaking my head. When I looked over again she'd taken off her shirt. First I noticed her ribcage the bones clearly visible and then my gaze shifted higher, toward where breasts should've been.

It looked like a man's chest or rather a boy's, an emaciated boy's, except for the surprisingly big brown nipples. It was sad because her face wasn't bad-looking, and if she were twenty pounds heavier and hadn't poisoned her body with heroin she would've been very attractive.

"Come on, why won't you fuck me?" she said, stroking her breasts softly. "I could tell you were thinking about it before. Come on, baby, you can have a whole half hour and I'll do whatever you want.

I'll make you feel so good."

"Will you just put your top back on?"

"Fuckin' faggot," she muttered as she put her shirt on and continued fidgeting and twitching. I paced from the refrigerator to the stove and back, feeling as pent-up as one of the miserable-looking gorillas they used to have in the Central Park Zoo. My feet were hurting and I was still sweating badly; I wondered if I was starting to get dehydrated. I went to the sink and gulped down water from the faucet, some of it dribbling down my chin and neck. After splashing some water over my face I actually felt slightly refreshed. I glanced at Sue, but she was looking away, pulling on her hair, scratching her arms. I opened the refrigerator, hoping there would be something to eat, but there was nothing except a bag of Wonder bread with only a couple of stale-looking end pieces inside, an empty can of Franco-American ravioli, some blackened banana peels, and a couple of loose slices of American cheese that looked hardened. Then I caught a nauseating whiff of something rotting and I closed the door quickly.

"I eat out a lot," Sue said.

I looked over at her and smiled slightly, then realized she wasn't trying to be funny. I started pacing again. After awhile, I decided I'd better conserve my energy, and I sat in one of the chairs.

Sue was still shifting anxiously from side to side, still making those clucking noises. I was about to tell her to shut the hell up when she said, "So if you don't want to fuck me maybe you'll give me fifty bucks anyway."

I ignored her.

"Come on, it's just fifty," she said. "Fuck, I could've gotten a thousand from you if I met you tomorrow night."

"I guess you blew it then, didn't you?" I said.

A few more minutes passed, and then she said, "You ever shoot dope?"

I didn't want to answer her, so I just shook my head.

"Man, you don't know what you're missing," she said. "The first time I shot up I couldn't believe how good it felt. It feels like you're just floating away, like you're nothing. Hey, I got an idea. You let me go out and get some, we'll shoot up together. Don't worry, I'll get you a clean needle. Come on, I love turning on virgins."

"I have enough problems in my life," I said. "I don't need yours too."

"Trust me," she said, "after you shoot dope all your problems go away."

"Forget about it," I said.

"Faggot-ass fuckin' prick asshole piece of shit," she said, suddenly venomous. "You're just a stupid fucking faggot, that's what you are."

I started pacing again. Sue's tics had gotten even more exaggerated now, and her face was cringing, as if she were in serious pain.

"You okay?" I asked. She didn't answer, and then I said, "Really, are you feeling all right? Is there something I can get you? A glass of water or a piece of that cheese? Or maybe you want a wet towel."

"If you really want to help me you'll give me fifty so I can go out and take a fuckin' walk," she said.

She continued looking pained.

I ignored her for a while, then said, "Not that I really give a shit, but how did your life get so screwed up anyway?"

She didn't answer.

"Come on, I really want to know," I said. "I mean, you seem intelligent, you're not so bad-looking, and you said you were from that nice area in Michigan. You must've had a good family, went to good schools»

"Fuck you."

"What?"

"Talking down to me like you're a fucking priest or something. You fucking asshole."

"I'm just trying to connect the dots."

"I gotta get the hell outta here," she said, standing up.

"Yeah, right," I said.

"I'll be back in a half hour, tops," she said. "Come on, what do you think I'm gonna do?"

"Oh, I know what you're gonna do. You're gonna go to the first phone booth you see and call the cops. You'll tell them a guy killed your boyfriend and if they don't believe you they can just go up to your apartment and see because he's still there."

"I'm not gonna rat you out, all right? I'll come right back here and we'll do it the way you want we'll carry Ricky down to the park. I think that's a great idea, so why don't you just»

"Sit down," I said.

She tried to bolt past me to get to the door, but I grabbed her skeleton arm and yanked her back toward me. She stumbled over her own feet and I let go of her and she fell down onto the floor onto her side.

"Fucking cocksucking piece of shit," she said.

We glared at each other, the showdown lasting for maybe ten seconds.

Finally she settled back down on the futon, fidgeting and rocking back and forth. Although I was looking away, I was watching her in my peripheral vision; if she made a sudden bolt toward the door I was going to block her. I realized that if, later on, she became even more desperate for a fix, it would be harder to restrain her. I started looking around, for rope or something else in the apartment that I could use to tie her up if I had to, but I didn't see anything.

"You know what I don't get?" Sue said. "I don't get why you wanted your stupid wallet back so bad anyway. If you just told me to fuck off right away Ricky'd still be alive."

I was going to remind her that she was the one who called me about the wallet, but I didn't want to get into that again.

"I mean, you paid one-fifty for it," she went on. "That's a lot just to get your license and some canceled credit cards back. I would've taken twenty bucks."

I squatted, facing the wall, noticing a monster-size water bug scamper from under the sink toward the refrigerator. I stared at the bottom of the refrigerator, waiting to see if the bug would appear again.

"You really are a nut job, aren't you?" she said. She sat with her head hanging between her knees for a while; then she looked up at me again and said, "Say whatever you want about me. Say I'm a junkie, say I'm a whore, say whatever the fuck you want, but look at you. You're the one who's fucked up. Look what you did look what you fuckin' did. You didn't have to kill him. You could've just got the knife away, held him down, but you didn't. You kept going. I saw the way you looked when you did it. You looked whacked, like you were getting off on it."

I was still staring at the bottom of the refrigerator, waiting for the bug to come out, when the doorbell rang. Sue looked as panicked as I probably did. We stared at each other and the bell rang three more times in quick succession. There was a period of silence, and then a man said, "Come on, I know you're in there. Come on, open up."

"Who the hell is that?" I whispered.

"Shit," Sue whispered harshly, as the ringing started again. "See, I told you we should've called the cops, you stupid fuckin' idiot. I told you.