Bill Cheng - Southern Cross the Dog

His first stay at the hotel, he’d gotten lost somewhere in the maze of roads outside of Bruce. His head was splitting and his memories of his father had sunk him into a low black mood. He remembered the sky that evening, full amber, the air aquiver in the heat. In the burgeoning dusk, the building looked almost violet, its gas lamps all aglow.

He went in and had a drink in the hotel parlor with an attractive black woman. He could not remember what they talked about, only that he felt an ease and comfort he had not felt in a long time. She was in her large red chair and he was on the stool beside her, turning the glass of strong gold liquor in his hands.

Are you staying here? he’d asked her.

You could say that, she said. I own this place. This is my hotel.

He felt the rush in his blood. She was young and exotic, and she locked her eyes against his. They drank together into the early morning, one glass after another. He could feel himself losing himself. The world spun away from his feet. He hung all his memories of Beau-Miel around this moment. Lucy propping her head on her palms, her eyes looking lazily back at him as if there was nothing left for him to understand.

Here, all things were possible.

IT WAS DARK WHEN DUKE came at last to the hotel. His head was thrumming and he was aching for a drink. On the front stoop, he could barely make out the figure of a man. He called out to him, thinking it was Eli, but the man stood up and went inside. Inside, one of Lucy’s girls was at the front desk, asleep in her chair. There was no sign of the man.

He rang the bell and the girl startled awake.

Is there an Eli Cutter staying here? he asked the girl.

She flipped through the registry.

Yes, she said.

And is there a room vacant next to his?

The girl looked in the book and said that there was.

I’ll take that one, Duke said.

Duke signed the registry, and the girl came around and took him by the elbow. She walked him down the carpeted hall and up the staircase, her small warm body against his. He swallowed and his throat was dry and clacking and painful. When they came to the room, she stopped at the door. She held his key in her hand.

Was there anything else you wanted? she asked him. She smiled and he could see the small gap between her teeth.

Duke felt a shiver.

There anything you need?

Her voice trailed off.

He could not help but grin.

Yes, he said. He was aware of his size, towering and bearlike over this creature.

My throat is a little dry.

THEY SAT TOGETHER ALONE IN his room, he in his chair and she on the bed, stripped down to her underwear. He lit a candle and watched her as she poured from a jug into a clay cup. With the cup she crossed the narrow space between the bed and the chair and sat herself across his lap. Her fingers raked against his smooth hairless head. She tipped the cup into her mouth, letting it run out into his.

More, he said. Do that again.

She pincered her knees around his sides and hoisted herself up. She guided his hands up her body. He was surprised at the heat — her volcanic body. He could feel her moving through his clothes.

You want more?

She reached for the jug and tilted back his chin, parting his lips. She poured. It was warm and messy and he gulped hungrily. His throat bucked against the sting, but still she poured.

No more, she said, laughing. You’ll get it all over me.

More, he said.

Nuh-uh. Don’t you think it’s time for something else?

She climbed off and knelt beneath him. He adjusted himself as she slid down his trousers. He could feel her begin to work. His breath was pounding. His breath became short and clipped. He could feel his muscles uncoupling.

Oh my, she purred. Aren’t you something?

He could feel her nails raking against his thighs. His skin felt bright and alive. He rolled his eyes back into his head. His head began to swim. He hummed with pleasure.

Do you know who I am? he whispered. His voice was full of wind.

Mmm…

She moved slowly. He felt himself engorging. He clenched.

Do you know the things I can do?

DUKE WOKE THE NEXT MORNING, his throat raw, his skull throbbing. He sat up. The room was a mess and the girl was gone. The floor was littered with empty jugs of rye. He swung his legs from the mattress and hawked a wad of bright red phlegm into a kerchief. He made a halfhearted noise of disgust and rousted himself out of bed. He struggled out to the basin and splashed his face with cold water before finally putting on his clothes.

He went out and knocked on the door of the adjacent room.

There was no answer, only a knot of sheets torn from the mattress and heaped in a nest on the floor. The air was rank with booze and sex. On the sill, he noticed candles melted down into stumps and a row of small unmarked jars. He had heard about Eli’s superstitious inclinations but had yet to have the opportunity to see it firsthand. He crossed into the room and picked up one of the candles.

It was smooth and slick in his hands. He set it down and wiped his fingers on his shirt before going back out. He hunted through the halls and in the kitchen and the parlor until at last he found him outside in the backyard with Lucy. Duke’s head was aching and the bright morning light was a knife in his already battered brain.

The two were sitting on a splintered picnic bench, talking in low hushed voices. Eli’s eyes were bloodshot and his clothes were crumpled. It did not appear he had gone to bed the night before. His face had a telltale sheen of grease, and his hair was matted still from where he’d been wearing his hat.

For a moment, Duke stood at the door and watched her. It was her. He would recognize her anywhere. She had gotten older, certainly, but if anything, her age had made her more desirable — the shock of silver across her temples, her full doughy breasts. She was strong. Powerful. Eli said something and Duke heard her laugh. That same laugh, he remembered. Full mouthed, full bodied — heavy and sticky and golden with sex.

Duke cleared his throat.

’Morning, he said.

He crossed over and they both fell quiet. Duke clapped Eli on the shoulder, perhaps too roughly.

I see you’ve found the place, all right.

This is Miss Lucy, Eli said, standing.

Yes, we’ve met before, Duke said.

Lucy cocked her lovely head to the side. A curl of hair swung down in front of her face and she passed it back behind her ear.

Have we?

Some time ago, yes.

Oh! Well, excuse me, she said. A lot of folks come through here.

She held out her hand and Duke was suddenly aware of how sweaty his palms had become. He bent and kissed the back of her supple hand.

Yes, Duke said, I can imagine.

An uncomfortable look passed across the woman’s face and he realized he’d been staring at her a little too intensely. Duke averted his gaze.

I hope Mr. Cutter here has not been giving you too much trouble, miss.

Lucy laughed. No, no trouble at all.

Mr. Cutter here is a person under my employ. A musician.

Oh, she said and looked to Eli. He never said anything to me.

I’m sure the old boy is just being humble. I’ll have you know that you’ve been acquainting with a genuine star. You see, he’s been waiting for me here these last few weeks, and it seems that we are finally reunited, isn’t that right, Eli?

Yes, boss, Eli said. His voice was dumb, flat.

Duke ran his hand across his nose to hide his anger.