Stephen King - Song of Susannah

I don’t care what it is or when, Mia said. I want to be near a telephone. I want to see to my chap.

Susannah walked past a sign on a tripod, then turned back and gave it a closer look.

Susannah thought, Sombra as in Turtle Bay Luxury Condominiums… which never got built, from the look of that black-glass needle back on the corner. And North Central as in North Central Positronics. Interesting.

She felt a sudden twinge of pain go through her head. Twinge? Hell, a bolt. It made her eyes water. And she knew who had sent it. Mia, who had no interest in the Sombra Corporation, North Central Positronics, or the Dark Tower itself, was becoming impatient. Susannah knew she’d have to change that, or at least try. Mia was focused blindly on her chap, but if she wanted to keep the chap, she might have to widen her field of vision a little bit.

She fight you ever’ damn step of the way, Detta said. Her voice was shrewd and tough and cheerful. You know dat too, don’t you?

She did.

Susannah waited until the man with the problem finished explaining how he had ordered some movie called X-Rated by accident, and he didn’t mind paying as long as it wasn’t on his bill, and then she stepped up to the desk herself. Her heart was pounding.

“I believe that my friend, Mathiessen van Wyck, has rented a room for me,” she said. She saw the reception clerk looking at her stained shirt with well-bred disapproval, and laughed nervously. “I really can’t wait to take a shower and change my clothes. I had a small accident. At lunch.”

“Yes, madam. Just let me check.” The woman went to what looked like a small TV screen with a typewriter attached. She tapped a few keys, looked at the screen, and then said: “Susannah Mia Dean, is that correct?”

You say true, I say thank ya rose to her lips and she squelched it. ’Yes, that’s right.”

“May I see some identification, please?”

For a moment Susannah was flummoxed. Then she reached into the rush bag and took out an Oriza, being careful to hold it by the blunt curve. She found herself remembering something Roland had said to Wayne Overholser, the Calla’s big rancher: We deal in lead. The ’Rizas weren’t bullets, but surely they were the equivalent. She held the plate up in one hand and the small carved turtle in the other.

“Will this do?” she asked pleasantly.

“What-” the beautiful desk clerk began, then fell silent as her eyes shifted from the plate to the turtle. They grew wide and slightly glassy. Her lips, coated with an interesting pink gloss (it looked more like candy than lipstick to Susannah), parted. A soft sound came from between them: ohhhh…

"It’s my driver’s license,” Susannah said. “Do you see?” Luckily there was no one else around, not even a bellman. The late-day checkouts were on the sidewalk, fighting for hacks; in here, the lobby was a-doze. From the bar beyond the gift shop, “Night and Day” gave way to a lazy and introspective version of “Stardust.”

“Driver’s license,” the desk clerk agreed in that same sighing, wondering voice.

“Good. Are you supposed to write anything down?”

“No… Mr. Van Wyck rented the room… all I need is to… to check your… may I hold the turtle, ma’am?”

“No,” Susannah said, and the desk clerk began to weep. Susannah observed this phenomenon with bemusement. She didn’t believe she had made so many people cry since her disastrous violin recital (both first and last) at the age of twelve.

“No, I may not hold it,” the desk clerk said, weeping freely. “No, no, I may not, may not hold it, ah, Discordia, I may not-”

“Hush up your snivel,” Susannah said, and the desk clerk hushed at once. “Give me the room-key, please.”

But instead of a key, the Eurasian woman handed her a plastic card in a folder. Written on the inside of the folder-so would-be thieves couldn’t easily see it, presumably-was the number 1919. Which didn’t surprise Susannah at all. Mia, of course, could not have cared less.

She stumbled on her feet a little. Reeled a little. Had to wave one hand (the one holding her “driver’s license”) for balance. There was a moment when she thought she might tumble to the floor, and then she was okay again.

“Ma’am?” the desk clerk inquired. Looking remotely- very remotely-concerned. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yeah,” Susannah said. “Only… lost my balance there for a second or two.”

Wondering, What in the blue hell just happened? Oh, but she knew the answer. Mia was the one with the legs, Mia. Susannah had been driving the bus ever since encountering old Mr. May I Not Take The Sk o lpadda, and this body was starting to revert to its legless-below-the-knee state. Crazy but true. Her body was going Susannah on her.

Mia, get up here. Take charge.

I can’t. Not yet. As soon as we’re alone I will.

And dear Christ, Susannah recognized that tone of voice, recognized it very well. The bitch was shy.

To the desk clerk, Susannah said, “What’s this thing? Is it a key?”

“Why-yes, sai. You use it in the elevator as well as to open your room. Just push it into the slot in the direction the arrows point. Remove it briskly. When the light on the door turns green, you may enter. I have slightly over eight thousand dollars in my cash drawer. I’ll give it all to you for your pretty thing, your turtle, your sk o lpadda, your tortuga, your kavvit, your-”

“No,” Susannah said, and staggered again. She clutched the edge of the desk. Her equilibrium was shot. “I’m going upstairs now.” She’d meant to visit the gift shop first and spend some of Mats’s dough on a clean shirt, if they carried such things, but that would have to wait. Everything would have to wait.

“Yes, sai.” No more ma’am, not now. The turtle was working on her. Sanding away the gap between the worlds.

“You just forget you saw me, all right?”

“Yes, sai. Shall I put a do-not-disturb on the phone?”

Mia clamored. Susannah didn’t even bother paying attention. “No, don’t do that. I’m expecting a call.”

“As you like, sai.” Eyes on the turtle. Ever on the turtle. “Enjoy the Plaza-Park. Would you like a bellman to assist you with your bags?”

Look like I need help with these three pukey li’l things? Detta thought, but Susannah only shook her head.

“Very well.”

Susannah started to turn away, but the desk clerk’s next words swung her back in a hurry.

“Soon comes the King, he of the Eye.”

Susannah gaped at the woman, her surprise close to shock. She felt gooseflesh crawling up her arms. The desk clerk’s beautiful face, meanwhile, remained placid. Dark eyes on the scrimshaw turtle. Lips parted, now damp with spittle as well as gloss. If I stay here much longer, Susannah thought, she’ll start to drool.

Susannah very much wanted to pursue the business of the King and the Eye-it was her business-and she could, she was the one up front and driving the bus, but she staggered again and knew she couldn’t… unless, that was, she wanted to crawl to the elevator on her hands and knees with the empty lower legs of her jeans trailing out behind her. Maybe later, she thought, knowing that was unlikely; things were moving too fast now.