William Vollmann - The Royal Family

That’s giving in, Chocolate mumbled. You can’t give in to extortion.

Whatever, Domino said. Well, it’s not you giving in; it’s me. This all happened because of you. I can’t find the Queen. Won’t you help me?

No, said Chocolate, opening her eyes. You know why? Because you kept that money, bitch. What the fuck did you do with my money?

Then Ada was upon her, shouting: Guilty, guilty! and Domino was so afraid that she fell on her hands and knees literally pissing in her panties, and she felt the first blow on the back of her head, a hard bloody blow that cracked her skull, and she felt the second blow, and she heard Chocolate’s snoring and she heard her own screaming and then, thank God, the tall man was there, and it was Ada who was screaming. Domino never saw Ada again. She never talked to the tall man about what had happened, and the Queen when she heard made everyone, I mean everyone, promise never to speak of that night when Domino had lost the management of herself and become a dirty submissive little child. ( Soumis, you know, that means submissive, said Dan Smooth mildly, looking up at Tyler from his French dictionary. A fille soumise is a prostitute under police control.)

That night almost killed Domino. It did something to her soul. It sealed her in a protective prison of rage.

Later the Queen sent for Chocolate and said: Why didn’t you help her? Domino’s your sister.

Oh, Maj, Chocolate whined, I know I fucked up, but she stole that twenty dollars from me. She never—

You givin’ me static, you evil little bitch? said the Queen. You go to Domino right now an’ say you’re sorry.

Please, Maj. I’m afraid of Domino now…

Don’t think Queenie can’t understand you. Don’t think you’re out of trouble, either. Now, what exactly do you propose to do for Domino? She got hurt. She got scared. She could have died.

I know, Maj. I said I’m sorry.

Go an’ say it to her. She suffers. She’s got a lot to suffer. She’s not like Sunflower was. She does it to herself. But this time you did it to her, too. You got to bear your cross now, baby. You know what your cross is gonna be? Domino’s always gonna hate you.

No, I—

That’s right. She’ll hate you. An’ you got to love her back, even though one day she gonna try an’ get you. Because it’s your fault. Okay?

Maj, I—

Did you hear me?

Okay, the whore whispered.

Then go an’ tell her. Now.

Chocolate did. And, as always, the Queen was correct. Domino never forgave her. After all, she never forgave anyone. And relations between those two must have been much worse, were it not for the fact that Domino, whose hair was gradually becoming as grey as Tyler’s face, could not bear to think of that night when she had been so helpless and so afraid of another human being…

Like most aggressors, Chocolate took revenge on the one she’d wronged. Several of the other prostitutes having overheard portions of her conversation with Domino about the metaphysics of feticide, Chocolate afterward claimed to have received the blonde’s confession that one of her babies had not been aborted before birth, which was why Domino, inexorably desperate, had strangled it, thrown it on a pile of newspapers and set it on fire. Of course this was a malicious lie. At worst, if Domino had ever engaged in any such acts, it would have been because she had miscarried, and her baby wasn’t breathing anyway.

Crossing the yellow-lit shop-fronts of Van Ness to the Tenderloin where leopardskin-assed girls were bending and leaning into pink Chevvys, black Dodges, silver Hyundais, Tyler found that so many were wearing white that night! They wore white, and they wore lipsticked smiles. They chewed gum. They put to shame the unrentable tongues of icecream-licking girls in the bright window of Rory’s Twisted Scoop on Fillmore Street, where the most prevalent form of prostitution was called “marriage” or “the relationship,” and the trick pad might be any one of the ugly houses of Ocean Beach. (This comparison, of course, was never meant to denigrate John and Celia, who often drove up to Saint Helena to look at houses. Those two weren’t really “in the market” yet, not having declared themselves to be in the market for each other, but John felt that one could never go too far when researching real estate, especially because the research gave them both such pleasure. In the window of the broker’s office he learned about a $750,000 estate on Palmer Drive, a “magificent stone castle” for $1.3 million, a “panorama” for $425,000.) And so Chocolate said to the man in the pickup truck: Darlin’, I’m much more expensive than gold. — The man said: That reminds me of a song I heard somewhere. — Well, sing it to someone else! laughed Chocolate. You fat-assed cheapskate sonofabitch! — Cunt! yelled the man, speeding off. — That was a good one, Choc! Domino said a little gloomily, wondering if her nose-hairs were showing. She had just smoked some bad crack, cut probably with speed, and she knew that after the good feeling (which presently tingled from her toes to her teeth) had gone away, she’d feel nauseous and headachey for a good three days — unless of course she smoked more crack. Chocolate started dancing and shoutingly recited a rap poem she’d conceived whose subject was crack. Sapphire laughed and clapped her feeble little hands.

A black-and-white pulled up. The passenger-side cop slowly rolled down his window. The whores waited.

Well, well, said the cop. I smell a little illegal activity going on here.

He smiled and got out of the squad car.

Peddling that AIDS-infected ass of yours again, Domino? he said.

The little Queen strode forward and said: Listen, officer, these girls are my kids. They love me. If you gotta say something to me, please be nice, ’cause they be my kids. How they supposed to feel when you start bad mouthin’ me? How I be feelin’ when you take one of my kids down?

All right, all right, said the officer soothingly.

Just say what you need to say and be nice, said the Queen. Otherwise, if you’re not nice, I won’t be nice, and then my tongue would be my sword, and you’d have to take me away.

All right, Maj, the cop said. Just keep ’em in line. I’ve had complaints, especially about Domino.

Why, what’s she done? said the Queen, stroking the girl’s long blonde hair.

Ripped off a few people, gaffled ’em I guess you’d call it. Next time I’m taking her in.

He got back into the squad car and slammed the door. The Queen waved.

Never mind, Domino, she said.

Domino said nothing.

All rightie now, said the Queen. Me an’ Henry, we want a little time alone now. We’re gonna fade right now. Domino, you gonna be okay?

Where you be? said the tall man.

Wonderbar.

Why you want to give a silver nickel to that racist piece of shit Heavyset? You losin’ it, Maj.

Imagine that, said the Queen.

Inside the Wonderbar, sweaty Nikolai, who stared at every kissing couple because he himself hadn’t kissed anyone in years, was asking: Will you be open on Christmas?

We’re always open except when we’re closed, Loreena the barmaid replied wearily.

What time will you be open?

Look, Loreena said. You know we’re always open unless we aren’t. I just said so. And we always have variable hours, so why do you even ask me?

But, Loreena, you just make it so nice for all of us regulars that—

Oh, dry up, asshole.

Nikolai’s mouth opened and he turned red and then his mouth closed again.