Gator Aide (28 page)

“I’m very discriminating about what I allow in my mouth, and this is not on the list.” Spotting me at the door, Terri slid off the bed and into his slippers to throw his arms around my neck. “Thank God! I’d given up all hope of ever being rescued from this place.”

Kushner didn’t bother to ask how I felt. Instead she examined the bump on the back of my head, which seemed to have grown in the past few days.

“Congratulations, Porter. I think you’re actually worse than when you were originally here. I’m glad to see you’ve been following my instructions so well. No more midnight romps with Sam for a while, or you’re grounded for a month.”

“Would you believe I had the best of intentions when I left?”

“No.”

She was right. I had only myself to blame for the headaches which had plagued me for the last several days, something I didn’t dare mention.

Terri pulled out a canvas bag from Gold’s Gym, already jam-packed with his toiletries, and began to change into a pair of loose pants and a flowing shirt. “Who’s Sam? I’m still back with your knight errant with the broken-down LeSabre. See what happens, Doc? A few days away and the girl’s running wild.”

Kushner wrote out a few prescriptions, handing them to me. “Two are for Terri and one is for you. It’s an antibiotic. Do yourself a favor and have it filled, or you’ll find yourself eating bad hospital food and watching old movies in a room just like this. I’m serious, Rachel. If you don’t take care of that gash in your head, an infection is going to set in. It’s up to you.”

I nodded my head in agreement, anxious to be on my way before she changed her mind and made me stay.

“Just so you know, I’d keep on top of Sam if you ever want that autopsy done. He has a tendency to let things slide.”

I thanked her and made a mental note to check in with Sam sometime in the next day or two.

Covering his turban with a panama hat, Terri was prepared to leave. Having bribed an orderly ahead of time, his roomful of flowers was loaded onto a gurney and squeezed into my car. I felt as if I were driving a bad excuse for a hearse.

“Thank God I’m finally out of there. I thought Bubba in the bed next to me was going to hire a hit man at any moment. I had to bribe his family with candy just to stay alive.”

It was good to have Terri back. I’d already picked up some Chinese takeout, which I planned to microwave as soon as we got home.

“By the way, I did some homework for you when I was whiling away the hours between the sheets. Kushner’s not the only one with friends in important places. We’re making a stop in Bourbon Street before we settle in for the night. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I did my best to persuade Terri otherwise, but he wouldn’t be budged. “Just don’t blame me if you have a relapse, Ter. I’ll let Kushner know I had nothing to do with it. You’re completely uncontrollable.”

Terri placed a hand gently against my cheek. “Look who’s talking. You look nearly as bad as I do, and from what I hear you were knocking back a fair amount of cognac the other night. This isn’t a social romp I’m taking you on, Rach. This has to do with Valerie. I’ve been asking around, and I found someone who might be able to help.”

The mention of Valerie’s name brought back the heaviness that had been hanging over me ever since I’d woken up from my nightmare. I knew tonight would be one of those evenings to be filled with late-night TV, a couple of stiff drinks, a hot bath, and the latest spy novel. Anything but facing my own dreams again.

I drove down the length of Bourbon Street, giving Terri a full view of the damage that had been done. He was quick to notice that the buildings avoiding the full force of destruction—the strip clubs, massage parlors, porn theatres, and sex shows—were at least partially owned by straight men. Passing b y the Boy Toy, Terri flinched as he saw the slogan of hate that had been spray painted across his poster.

I stopped in front of the Kit Kat Club, which was already back up and running as if a riot had never taken place. In a city where the homicide rate makes Miami look good, the Kit Kat had come up with a gimmick to draw in new business. A sign in the window announced a “Murder Pool.” Open to customers only, the pool was taking bets on what day the city’s five hundredth murder of the year would take place.

Terri led the way through the darkened front room. A show was already in progress as a stripper clad in a sequined G-string twirled around a pole, an overhead disco light flashing a procession of dreary colors onto her body. Bored with her own act, she mechanically went through the paces.

We worked our way backstage, where Terri knocked on a thin plywood door. Decorated with the tattered silhouette of a female with cat ears and a long curly tail, the word “STAR” was written underneath in tarnished gold letters. The woman who answered looked anorexic except for her chest, which was swollen out of all proportion. Terri introduced her as Kitty Kat, the star of the club. We followed her into a room that was a notch below a flophouse. Star billing hadn’t done much for her sense of self-esteem. A blue Chinese happi coat was wrapped around her thin body, with enough grease stains to make it look like a used dinner napkin. Her legs were the width of a small bird’s, bearing an array of bruises, while her arms could have passed as twigs. Blue veins stuck out against translucent white skin lined with a row of track marks, their tiny red punctures looking like a gallery of bloodshot eyes. Short blond hair sprouted from a base of dark roots, standing straight up on end from her head in punk fashion, while large brown eyes rimmed in heavy black liner drummed up images of haunted waifs on black velvet. Though she might have been pretty at one time, heavy pancake now coated her face in an attempt to hide a network of lines caused by more than just age and hard living. But makeup couldn’t cover one angry red welt which stood out on her skin, running from the corner of her drooping left eye to her chin. As she nervously puffed on a cigarette, her eyes searched each corner of the room.

“You look like shit, Terri. Maybe we should work up an act together. I’m ready for some new material.” Kitty’s laugh came out as a cough, and she reached for a tissue to spit in. My eyes were locked onto her scar, which moved as if it had a life of its own. Zeroing in on my fascination, she pounced.

“You like the look—what’s your name—Rachel? Got it free of charge. It’s even helped my act. See, now I wear a full headmask when I get up to dance.” She reached over to a makeup counter filled with tins of face powders, cream rouge, and Max Stein pancake. Grabbing a black leather hood with slits for the eyes and an opening for her mouth, she pulled it over her head. The effect was that of an executioner.

“Looks hot, huh? It’s great. Everyone gets to see my body, but they never see my face. Makes the guys go wild. You gotta catch my act later and tell me what you think.” Her robe fell open as she twisted around in search of a cigarette, revealing the intricate lacework of cuts on her abdomen. Her exposed breasts stood erect like two hard rocks. Kitty didn’t bother to close her robe, but stroked her hand across her stomach as she put her feet up on the counter, amid the chaos of cans. “I put makeup on all my little beauty marks here, and nobody even notices. It was thoughtful that he didn’t scar up my tits, though. I thanked him for that.”

Kitty laughed and nudged Terri in his crotch with her foot. “Look at him. He’s jealous. I’ve already told him a dozen times where he can go and get the exact same boobs I’ve got.”

Terri took hold of her foot as he glanced at her choice of makeup, shaking his head in dismay. “Don’t be such a bitch, Kitty. God knows your skin should be in even worse condition than it already is, with all the shit you put on it. Why don’t you just tell Rachel what happened?”

Looking at Kitty, I knew I was just beginning to learn about the world Valerie had inhabited every day.

“So, you’re trying to find out what happened to Val, huh? Don’t waste your time. Nobody cares.” Kitty reached for a bottle of Jack Daniel’s and poured some out into three paper cups.

I took a sip as I studied the woman across from me. Kitty made me nervous. I thought of myself as street smart, until I bumped up against someone like her. It was only then that I realized just how little I knew of a whole segment of society that intrigued me as much as it frightened me.

“I care, or I wouldn’t be wasting my time on it.”

“You said it, hon. You’re wasting your time. You have no idea what you’re up against, do you? What’s that they say? You can’t fight city hall?”

I wondered if this was what Valerie had been like. Except Kitty was a survivor. Valerie had died from her scars.

“Is that who I’m up against? City hall?”

Kitty coughed a smoker’s hacking laugh as she filled both our cups again. “No names, hon. I still gotta stay alive in this town.” She brought the cup to her lips and, for the first time, I noticed the slight tremor that ran through her hand.

“Some guy comes in here one night about a year ago and catches my act. This is when I’ve still got a face I can show onstage. Well, I must have been grinding something the right way, because the next thing I know, I get a note delivered back in my dressing room, asking if we can get together and make it a night. A hundred bucks is tucked in with it, and I have a feeling there’s more where that came from. So, sure. I mean, why not? Right?”

Kitty lit a fresh cigarette with the remains of her old one. She stubbed the butt out, smashing it into the ashtray until it had been pulverized. Shivering, she closed her robe, tightening the sash around her.

“So, after the show we go back to my place. We do it, and he’s no great shakes, but who cares. I mean, I’m not planning on finding Prince Charming at the Kit Kat Club. Anyway, he goes into the bathroom, and I decide to do a little search through his pockets. He’s already told me he ain’t done yet, and I figure he’s gonna owe me some more by the time he’s through. I want to see if he’s good for it or if he’s planning to stiff me. Save myself some time, ya know what I mean?” Her hand shook as she raised the paper cup to her lips. A trail of Jack Daniel’s dribbled down her chin and onto the blue robe, adding to the assortment of stains.

“Well, I don’t find any cash, but he’s got some powder wrapped up in a packet that’s just ready and waiting with my name on it. What the hell. I deserve a hit. I mean, the night is young, and I got this deadbeat in my bathroom taking a shower. I figure I’ll just cut myself a couple of lines and figure out a way to get rid of the hot dog later. So, I’m just beginning to take a snort when the guy comes out, with the water running in the bathroom, like he’s tricking me that he’s in there washing up.”

Kitty stared into space. The scar on her face twitched with a memory all its own. She motioned for me to pick up the bottle, and I poured some more Jack into both our cups.

“The guy looks at me not saying a word, not getting angry, and I figure everything’s cool until he starts to smile. And then I know I’m in trouble. I mean, this guy doesn’t smile like anybody I’ve ever seen. This prick makes my skin go cold. The next thing I know, he grabs me by the neck and tells me I need to learn some manners. That Americans are pigs with no manners. Well, the guy’s got a fucking pair of handcuffs on him like he’s a goddamn cop. He locks my hands together and chains me to one of the posts on the bed, pulling out what looks like a pocketknife. Except when he flicks it open, its a straight razor that I think he’s gonna slice my neck with.”

Kitty’s cup fell to the floor, the Jack Daniels forming a pool at her foot as she flung her arms around her breasts, her body shaking like a rag doll out of control. Her tough facade was broken, tears streaming down her face.

“I almost bled to death. And when the bastard is done, he makes me apologize. I mean, he’s got a hard-on. Watching me bleed to death is turning this asshole on.”

Taking a few deep breaths, I stared into the golden liquid in my cup in the hope of finding some answers. But Jack Daniel’s wasn’t giving away any secrets tonight. I looked at the girl in front of me and wondered what kept her alive. “Kitty, this guy wasn’t American?”

She shook her head no, pulling at the skin under her eyes with the back of her hand. “I think the bastard was German. A white-haired freak with eyes that could turn you to ice.” Spitting into a tissue, she dabbed at her skin in the mirror. “But I gotta hand it to him. My act is better than ever now. This mask thing really gets them going, you know. And I don’t even have to worry about my makeup.”

There had to be more to the story. The man she was describing could only be Gunter, and I wasn’t ready to believe he’d just walk away, leaving one of his victims alive to spill the news of his handiwork all around town.

“What happened after that? Do you have someone who protects you?” She would have known better than to go to the police. With their busy schedule of dealing with drug busts, murders, and general crime on the street, one sliced-up hooker would have been considered nothing more than a nuisance to be brushed aside as extra paperwork.

Kitty coughed out a harsh laugh. “Yeah. I got a big protector. The guy who owns the club. He did nothing except buy me a new mattress. Told me to forget the whole thing—that he’d make sure the guy didn’t bother me again. Said he’d keep me working at the club as long as I covered my face and didn’t fuck up my tits.”

“Who owns this place? I’d like to talk to him.”

Kitty inhaled sharply on her cigarette as she removed the top of a cold-cream container, and slathered a handful onto her face. “Uh-uh. No way. This is as far as I go. I don’t want no repeat visit from that freak. I seen what happened to Val, and I know when to keep my mouth shut. You got your story, and that was only to pay back a favor I owed Terri.”

“Don’t you want to get this guy off the street? He could come back for you anytime.”

“That’s exactly why I’m not saying another word. I hate what he did, but at least I’m alive. I’m gonna have to get ready for my show now, so you’d better leave.” Kitty took off her robe and began to massage baby oil on her breasts.

Terri adjusted the panama hat on top of his turban. “Come on, Rachel. Let’s go. Thanks for your time, Kitty. I’ll let you know about that offer for an act.”