Charlie Huston - Every Last Drop

She makes a stone-face, drops her voice an octave. -Wo. Wo. Wo. My name is Joe Pitt and I don't do nuthin' I don't want to do and I

won't even listen because I don't know a good thing when I have it and I'd rather be all fucked up and tragic and sad and go hurt people.

She points at me. -And you're doing it right now, you're thinking about hurting me.

She shakes her head. -You are so thin-skinned.

She leans forward and puts her elbows on the desk.

— But OK, you don't want to join us. You don't want to do business with us. But you're here. I mean, there has to be a reason why you're here. Besides spying for Predo, I mean. I mean, I'm not saying that's not what you re doing, but there's a reason. Because.

She folds her hands on the desk and lowers her face and rests her chin on them.

— I know you, Joe. I know you like people to think you just run around from job to job looking to stay ahead. But I know you have things that get you worked up.

She winces.

— Like when you slapped me? When I was talking about your girlfriend that time.

She looks at Sela. -Sela heard what happened.

I run a finger around the rim of my glass. Crystal, it sings a pure note.

Amanda bites her lower lip. -You tried to infect her. That's what she heard. And it didn't work.

Jeo Pitt 4 — Every Last Drop

It's quiet, just the glass repeating its song.

— I know I never met her. But she must have been something, Joe. I know that. I mean, she must have been something else.

She lifts her chin from her hands.

— So now, I mean, I guess that means you re alone. Like, not just alone like you like people to think you are, but really, seriously, alone. Sooo. So, I'm guessing that's why you're here. Because I don't know where you've been, or what kind of deal you made with Predo, but, and please don't get all pissy with me about this, but I think that the reason you took his job is because you were tired of being alone.

She stands.

— But being, like, you, you couldn't just come here and say, Hey, guys, mind if I hang out?

She comes around the desk.

— So here you are, too stubborn to just jump in and join the family. OK. But, I mean, you came up the stairs, you saw those people. Those people, Joe, they're starving. I mean, its getting bad. The guy were talking about that went hunting, that's, like, that's the tip of the iceberg. Pretty soon, there's gonna be more of that. And more. And we're not going to be able to contain it.

She sits on the edge of the desk. -It is going to get so ugly. So fast. And so soon.

She rubs her face. -We've just.

She looks me in the eye.

— We've got to have more blood. Now, we think we know where we can get it. But its going to be a serious pain in the ass.

She reaches out and rests her fingers on my knee. -And we need your help. -You shouldn't be asking him.

She looks at Sela. -Why not?

Sela points at me. -He's spying for Predo.

Amanda looks around the room like she's missed something. -So? I mean, he told us that. He's obviously not all Coalition all of a sudden.

Sela watches me as I pick up the bottle from the desk.

— It doesn't mean anything. Predo may have told him to tell you. This could be their game.

Amanda grabs the sides of her head. -Well if you're going to get all twisty-turny about it well never get anywhere.

She holds out her arms.

— I mean, what's he going to tell Predo? What are we hiding? Were like all of twelve blocks from his office. He can come take a look if he wants. Shit, far as I'm concerned, he can come join if he wants. We're here, we're taking all comers, and were finding a cure. What's the big secret?

Sela puts her hands on her hips.

— I don't know! But he wants something. And he sent Pitt here to find it. And letting him stay is fucking dangerous no matter what your feelings about him are. It's stupid. And you're not stupid.

Amanda rolls her eye. -Baby, you know what, fuck you.

Sela cocks her head. -Excuse me?

Amanda cocks her head to the same angle. -Oh don't whip out that sistah attitude and throw it around in my office.

Sela raises an eyebrow.

— Uh-huh. Alright, I wont bring the sistah attitude in here. Ill leave it at the door. Ill leave all that shit outside as soon as you stop acting all Mata Hari. Like you know how this is played. Because, little lady, you do not. You may be the smartest one in the room, but there is shit you do not know. This guy, your precious Joe, sure he comes across sometimes. Sure he's turned up in the right place at the right time once or twice, but mostly what he does is he gets people killed. And a lot of them, they get killed because he has a history of playing off both sides. You want to get all sentimental about him because he saved your life, I get it, but he has been in Predos pocket for years. Fuck, he's been in everyone's pocket one time or another. He comes out and tells us he's here for Predo, that means shit. All that means is whatever he's after, whatever Predo's after, it has nothing to do with him being here spying.

She looks at me.

Amanda looks at me.

I set my empty glass on the desk. -Well, I had my drink.

I stand. -Now can you show me that back way out?

Amanda watches as Sela enters the code and unlocks the door that leads to

the alley.

— You're wasting so much time, Joe.

I lean against the wall.

— I don't know about that. I had a nice drink, got caught up with old acquaintances. Worse ways to spend an hour.

She gives the eyeroll she's been perfecting since she was nine. -Not what I mean. And you know it.

She reaches over and grabs the sleeve of my jacket.

— This is the place for you. This is the last place for you. What we're doing here, its real. You can huff and makes faces and act like you think I'm crazy,

but you know I'm doing the right thing. And you know I can get this done. Anything you do between when you walk out that door and when you come back and tell us you're with us, all that will be such a waste of time.

I look at her. -Sweetheart.

I come away from the wall. -I don't think you re crazy.

I gently twist my arm free. -I know it like I know life ain't fair.

I make for the door, stopping to give Sela a look. -Try to keep her alive.

She opens the door. -It's what I'm here for. -Yeah.

I point down toward the basement.

— It'll make your job easier if you do like she says and kill that guy who made the mess.

I start down the rusted steel steps that lead into the alley.

Sela stands there watching. -Were not all like you, Joe. Some of us don't take to killing so easy.

I walk toward the gate that leads out onto Second. -Not my fault.

On the street I find a yellow. The driver asks me where I want to go.

I can't go there yet.

So I tell him to take me to the Bowery.

The nice thing about a place like the Whitehouse is they don't feel compelled to announce you if you drop by at an unusual hour to visit a guest. The bad things about a place like the Whitehouse, listed alphabetically, start somewhere around armed robbery, run past cockroaches and dirty needles, hit their stride with mass murder, start to tail off at rape, and end with a classic: zoophilia.

Add in the smattering of semi-functional resident bums, midwestern teenage runaways, and gagging-drunk European tourists on a budget, and you've got a holocaust of vomit and shit smells that draw up the stairwell like smoke pouring up a chimney.

I can almost see the reek as I climb through it.

Coming onto the top-floor landing, I have to turn sideways to fit down the narrow yellow hallway punctuated with close-set white doors. I hear snoring, early morning fornication, someone listening to Kraftwerk so loud on their iPod that they might as well hook it up to some speakers, a toilet flushing and clogging in the communal bathroom, and the distinct sound of someone moaning through a gag while a belt is applied to bare skin.