William Vollmann - The Royal Family

In her rage, Strawberry tried to lay hands on him, but he threw her off, kicked her away from Domino, and said: Don’t you ever hand me like that, you stinkin’ ho.

Actually he was delighted. Strawberry had shown heart. She was his mean, ruthless street bitch.

Domino leaped up from the sidewalk, weeping with rage and humiliation. Her head was bleeding, but it didn’t look serious. She ran at Strawberry, but the tall man interposed himself with an almost kindly impersonality, walling her off from further self-mischief. — Leave her be, Domino, he said. Domino! Domino!

The girl struggled in his crushing arms.

Listen to me, Domino, said the tall man, his eyelids sinking down like twilight warehouse gratings. — Quit your foolishness. You been beat and you know it. Just let it go an’ I’ll keep her off you. Queen’s rules.

Then they all saw the Queen standing there with her hands on her hips, shaking her head and weeping as she had wept over them so many times before, but this time it meant nothing to them; she was only an old woman crying.

And those two niggers that georgia’d Domino, I know where they both is at, said Chocolate.

The sun glanced blindingly off a white-painted driveway gate on Folsom Street as Tyler walked past, and struck his cheek. He wondered what species the pretty trees garlanded with fernleaves at heads and hips might be.

I only told ’em about South Van Ness, I swear, Strawberry said. She was crying. — Justin? Justin? I was so so scared.

We be holdin’ it down for our Queen, said Chocolate out of habit. And Justin got him a shark killer. You know what I mean? Shoot one shotgun shell from a tube…

I wanna get high, whined Strawberry. I want some liquid juice.

You better stop causin’ us static, said the tall man. Henry, you packin’?

Sure.

You told me you sold your gun.

That’s right. And just now I told you what you wanted to hear.

Reality will get you, the old acidhead Californians liked to say; reality will obtrude itself. If you’re in a cattle car bound for Auschwitz, you can’t wish your destiny away. — I grant that fully, said Tyler to himself, but isn’t it also true that after reality has done its worst I cease to exist, which means that reality ceases to exist? So if I want to wish upon a star or a Queen, all I need do is steel myself against the worst possible pain. — This had been his attitude until the Queen had spoken of Sunflower’s pain, and then he’d begun to wonder whether steeling himself might be wrong and even unworthy; shouldn’t he let the pain in, feel it, be destroyed by it, and thereby get his blessed ending? Like a woman’s dress on a hanger under a whirling fan, sleeves patiently gesticulating in the breeze, endlessly touching and stroking the limp form they came from, so his thoughts moved, but not really to any purpose, like a naked woman’s fidgeting legs, the flesh so perfectly and unconsciously obeying impulses which the mind probably wasn’t even aware that it had; if the woman lived to get old, her legs would ache and fight her even if she stirred them in a necessary and deliberate cause; reality would have gotten them then.

Okay now, the Queen whispered. This is it. Now I gotta visit with everybody in private, give everyone a chance to remember an’ to cry.

(You think I’m crying? sneered Domino.)

The Queen said: Strawberry, you remember when the black-and-white almost picked us up an’ we pretended to be fighting?

An’ you slapped me in the face, Maj, an’ I called you a bitch! Remember that? You’re the one I love so much an’ I called you a bitch!

’Course I do, sweetie, laughed the Queen, butterfly-tapping her so lightly on the shoulder.

If the vigs come in here then we gotta run back out again. Maj, I’m so sorry…

You didn’t tell ’em nothin’. Don’t worry you head, child. Vigs wanna find me, they gonna find me. An’ they forced you. An’ I have so many places to go, let ’em scour South Van Ness high an’ low…

This, uh, Maj, is this goodbye? I don’t see any vigs.

’Course not, Strawberry. This ain’t no goodbye. I’ll always be here.

Next came the blonde, so hate-strong and hate-strung like a careful sinister violin and so hate-cheerful, sounding elegant chords of hatred, and she said: You promised me, Maj. You said nobody would ever rape me again. And these two niggers…

Domino. Domino.

What? wept the blonde.

You’re lying. I’ll never tattle on you, honey, but Queen knows when you’re tellin’ the truth or not. Nobody georgiaed you this time.

Domino whispered: I don’t trust anyone but you. But I never snitched…

The Queen said: You didn’t wanna be marked. Let go now, Domino. Let go.

Am I marked now, Maj?

Yes, baby, you bear my Mark. So don’t worry. You were my good little girl. I love you so much. Run along now.

Domino dug her fingernails tightly into her lower lip. She sat down in a dark doorway and whispered: I’m all in. I’m cashing in on these motherfuckers.

As for Beatrice, she merely hung her head and remembered faded sky-blue houses. Her Mama had not died yet. Her Mama went next door and asked: Are the Marias at home? The little girls reached up and clung to the railing kicking and smiling. They were the Marias. Beatrice had always wanted to be a Maria likewise, because then she would have owned the Virgin’s name.

I think I’ll take a little walk now, said the Queen, but Beatrice cried: Don’t go out there, Maj — please!

You know, I was fixing to go out for a minute, said the Queen. I was calling to see if Sapphire needed some help.

What the fuck you talkin’ about, Maj? said the tall man. Sapphire she standin’ right there…

And now Sapphire began to dance before her Queen, kneeling with the scraps of her torn dress flaring out on either side of her like petals of a flower. She bowed her pallid face almost to the floor and rotated a greasy piece of streetstained cardboard so gracefully like a fan.

Look! said Kitty. Here comes Mr. Smooth!

It was indeed old pedophile Dan in his green Prowler, circling the block and waving. Finally he parked in an alley. — Get out of here! he cried. The vigs are coming!

Danny, said the Queen, would you kindly take Sapphire for a little ride? I’ll be speakin’ with you.

Biting his lip, Smooth nodded. He took Sapphire by the hand. The retarded girl didn’t cry.

Okay, guys, cried Rodrigo to the other Brady’s Boys. Watch me, guys.

Chill out, everybody, whispered the Queen. Better do a ghost. Come on. Move. Get out of here.

And where was Henry Tyler? Why, he wasn’t there! He was — where was he? He missed the end. Was he drunk, sad or just scared? It’s said that he was on Harrison Street kissing the false Irene.

On Powell Street, the big guy leaned against the phone booth talking, his cigarette smoking into space. That was Brady. The hot stale machine wind of the subway came up from the grating and kissed him. — If it goes up above what we can handle, we call the cops, he was saying. But you can’t get contractors to do anything these days. So I think we’d better try to handle it. The whole Kloncilium backs me on that.

After this, we’re going back, right? said a fat Brady’s Boy. I can’t take this no more. I got asthma, you know.

Here’s the cops, said Rodrigo. Afternoon, officer.

Howdy, said a policeman. Where are you folks headed?

We’ve tracked the Queen to the Royal Motel right now, officer. We’re going to see if we can make a citizens’ arrest.

Well, well, the Royal Motel, mused the cop. We’ve had killings there over trick pads and dope. We call it the Homicide Hilton. Ninety percent of that is black stuff. Don’t quote me on that. So you’re gonna try to sweep her in, huh?