William Vollmann - The Royal Family

Enjoy that twenty, he said.

Domino screwed up her drunken face and said: Whadya want for that twenty, a blow job? Fuck off. You can suck my big toe for twenty, you animal.

Enjoy that twenty.

I’m out of lime juice, muttered Loreena. Well, guess I can’t use a real lime.

Loreena, I wanna go to the bathroom, Domino said. I’m ready.

I’ll be right with you.

So you won’t take my twenty?

Look, replied the blonde. I’m not what you think. I’m a diamond in the rough and in the smooth and everyplace else. I’m a lethal weapon. And the only reason I’m letting you buy me drinks is ’cause my check didn’t come. A respectable person loaned me two hundred dollars but he was drunk and fucked up…

A second john was watching them.

Are you looking at me? asked the first john.

No, I was looking at her.

Well, she’s with me, the first john explained. She’s my wife. Don’t look at my wife like that.

Hey, you old coot, if that’s your wife you’d better keep her on a leash! Your wife’s been giving me blow jobs every Friday night!

Why, you—

Wrestling, hugging, screaming, the two johns strove against each other like the rutting animals they were, while Domino laughed and laughed, with the dull clickings of a spent cigarette lighter, until her sides ached. It was shaping up to be an excellent evening; people were paying attention to her. But finally Loreena ran out from behind the bar with a cutting board, which she held high above the warriors’ heads, shouting: Now, stop it, boys! Stop it or I’m gonna whack you…

Sheepishly, the men had already started pulling apart when Domino leaped down from her stool and screeched: You stop it! You stop it right now or I’m gonna call the cops!

Shaking their heads, the two johns wandered out the back door.

Well, said Domino, drumming her fingers on the bar with the triumphant click-click-click of black girls striding down Turk Street with their chins up, shading their doubledark sunglasses lenses with their hands, I think I deserve a free drink, Loreena.

And why’s that?

Beause I broke up that fight.

You broke it up? cried the barmaid in amazement.

That’s exactly right.

Dear, you’re too friggin’ much. You take the prize. You’re so bad you’re good. Have an ever-lovin’ drink.

A man was pulling up his pants as he watched the magnificently dangling breasts whose lease had now expired. The mouth slowly began to drop open, like a rotten trestle giving way. Upon the lower lip a pretty silver pearl of drool gathered. She couldn’t keep her eyes open. The head slowly tilted on the neck; the neck was giving way, too.

What now? the man said.

Oh, go out there, and see if I can get lucky, the whore mumbled.

Ah, said the man wisely, surreptitiously checking to make sure that she hadn’t lifted his wallet.

Well, sighed the whore, I guess I should make my departure.

She dragged her stained and stinking T-shirt back down over her head and let her calloused toes seal-dive back into the high heels. Then she stood up. The world rocked; she felt literally at sea. She bit her tongue sharply and tasted blood. That woke her up. She staggered toward the door.

All right then, the man said.

You too, the whore said.

She opened the door and stepped out. The hallway was dark. She would have liked to stay longer because the man’s bed had been comfortable and the man was nice. He had given her a glass of water. But she had to make more money. Her feet hurt. She closed the door behind her and crept slowly down the hall. When she got to the stairs she held on tightly to the bannister and took her time. Now for the street door. She hobbled back into the night and in ten minutes had managed to achieve an entire block before two Brady’s Boys found her.

Sitting on a concrete bench beside a trash can, the Queen in somebody else’s ancient leather jacket and baseball cap drew one hand from shoulder to shoulder in an almost Catholic gesture of self-blessing, then hunched forward and began to smoke. Lines deepened around her lips when she inhaled. She held in that strange bluish air of hell, then turned her head sideways and breathed it out with a smile of pleasure. Against a granite wall behind her leaned the tall man with one foot up, his projecting knee like a wood-saw blade. He pressed his head back against the wall and yawned. Over a parking meter padded by his quilted jacket slouched Tyler with his cap pulled low, his chin on his palm as he picked his teeth. He stepped back three paces, folded his arms across his chest, stepped forward, narrowed his anxious, squinting eyes, and leaned his stomach against the parking meter.

For the moment, vigilant uncertainty seemed to afford him the greatest integrity. He longed to think, to understand, to close his eyes and see some certain and loving image whose kiss would purify him. He stood against the parking meter, trying to decide whether he still loved the Queen, and what kind of love he’d been full of if it could be destroyed like this, and whether he ought to go away from her forever.

Henry, she said, not looking at him.

Yeah.

C’mere.

He came.

Henry, I see what you’re thinkin’. Baby, you think I can’t see right into your heart?

I know you can see, he whispered.

S’pose I was what you used to think I was. You think I really could’ve been that?

Closing his eyes, he thought for a long time. — Yeah, he said. You were perfect. Until you georgia’d Domino.

Allrightie. You think your nightmares about Irene gonna come back now?

Yeah.

I’m so sorry, honey. Queen’s so sorry for you. Henry, lemme ask you one more thing. If I was perfect then an’ I’m not perfect now, why might that be?

I don’t know. Because — because you—

God did it, she said with terrifyingly burning eyes. He sent His Son, our Enemy, down here to be on our level for a while. You think Jesus didn’t sweat an’ piss like everybody else? You think He didn’t get fearful an’ stupid like us?

Do you think that Christ could be here now? Irene had once asked him despairingly.

What do you mean, honey?

If I went down to that Loaves and Fishes place in Sacramento and put up a notice on the bulletin board saying if one of you homeless guys is Christ please come and meet me next Thursday, would Christ see it and come?

Tyler cleared his throat. — Sure, Irene, but maybe He wouldn’t be your Christ.

What do you mean? cried his sister-in-law in horror. What you’re saying goes against the Bible. There’s only one Christ, and He’s my God. He’s my Lord. I swear before you and before God I believe that.

In that case, Tyler had said, all you have to do is learn to recognize your own Christ, or else trust God to bring Him to you.

And now here he was, like an earthquake survivor pinioned and half crushed beneath some vaulted slab, unable to believe or disbelieve, unable to take his own advice.

The Queen said: It’s up to you to figure all this out. My girls, now, I gotta give ’em some happiness. But maybe I wanna give you somethin’ different. Somethin’ more secret than happiness. Do you believe that?

A warm shadow passed across his heart, and he whispered: Yes.

An’ you know why I did what I did to Domino? Justin, move away please.

Why? said Tyler.

Want some business, want some business, muttered the tall man across the street. Gonna sell you pussy, world. Gonna sell you dimes and keys. Gonna hotwire this car.

She laid down her head on his shoulder. — You really wanna know why? ’Cause she kept insulting you. An’ I love you. I couldn’t take it no more. I don’t care half as much about anyone else.