Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (3 page)

The glory of having known someone killed by the
police during a stickup was the greatest event of his life and a
memory he cherished as would an aging invalid, at the end of a
disappointing life, a winning touchdown made at the end of the final
game of the season.

Vinnie got kicks from refusing Georgette when she
tried to get him to take a walk with her, and from patting her on the
ass and telling her not now sweetheart. Maybe later. He felt good
having someone hot forim like that. Even if it is a fag. He followed
her over to the counter where she was sitting and, wetting his finger
and sticking it in her ear, laughed as she squirmed and giggled. Too
bad I didnt have-ya upstate. I had a couple a sweet kids but they
didnt have chips like this, patting her again on the ass and looking
at the others, smiling, and waiting for them to smile in appreciation
of his witticisms. It cost loot ta do me now sweet-chips, turning
once more to the others wanting to be certain that they understood
that Georgette was in love with him and that he could have her
anytime he wanted to, but, he was playing it cool, waiting for her to
give him loot before he condescended to allow her to do him; feeling
superior to the others because he knew Steve who had been killed by
the bulls, and because Georgette was smart and could snow them under
with words (at the same time hating anyone else who might use
polysyllabic words and thinking anyone who went to school was a
creep), but (mistaking in his dull, never to be matured mind, her
loneliness for respect of his strength and virility) she would never
try that with him.

He followed Georgette out to the street turning to
laugh at the girl Georgette had insulted, sitting, trying desperately
to think of something to say, her rage manifest on her face and
thickening her tongue. She spit and called him a goddam faggot
bastard. Georgette turned, holding a cigarette between middle and
forefinger of the right hand, hand inverted and outstretched, left
hand on her hip and looking disdainfully at the flushed face, Whats
your excuse churl? did you leave your nature in the outter ring or in
a cesspool?

Vinnie laughed trying to give the impression he dug
Georgettes remark (only vaguely aware that there may be something in
the remark he didnt understand) and pushed the girl back into her
chair as she started toward the door, and walked out and pinched
Georgette on the cheek, then took a cigarette from her pocket.
Whattayasay we take a walk? I might even letya do me. Oh, aren't you
the one though, hoping he was serious, trying in her finest
effeminate manner to act coy. I/ll only chargeya a fin, leaning
against the fender of a parked car looking through the open door into
the Greeks at the others, wanting to be certain they saw and heard.
Your generosity overwhelms me Vincent, smiling at his, My name is
Vinnie and can that Vincent shit, and wanting to have him even if she
did have to pay, but not wanting him on a business basis. She would
give him money if he wanted it, but not at that time; if she did it
would not only kill, or at least blur, the dream, but it would make
her his john and that would be unbearable, especially after having
waited so long. She knew he wouldnt go with her while the others were
there, fearing the jeers of queerbait, so was forced to wait and hope
the others might leave. Reasoning thus, yet hoping, in her
benzedrined mind, that she may be wrong and he would take her by the
arm and walk away with her, she continued the little game. I/ll have
you know that I have dozens of Johns who pay me, and not a paltry
five dollars either.

I wont charge ya nothin Georgie, grabbing one of her
ears. Dont touch me Harry, you big freak, pushing his hand away and
slapping at it. Im not about to have sex with you. Harry took his
pushbutton knife from his pocket, opened it, locked the blade in the
open position, felt the blade and tip and walked toward Georgette as
she backed away shaking limp wristed hands at him. Stand still and
I/ll makeya a real woman without goin ta Denmark. He and Vinnie
laughed as Georgette continued to back away, her hands limply
extended. You dont want that big sazeech gettin in yaway Georgie boy.
Let me cut it off. It is not big Miss Pinky, trying to suppress her
fears by thinking herself a heroine, and get away from me.

Harry flipped the knife underhand at her and yelled
think fast! She lifted her left leg slightly, covered her face with
her hands, turned away and shrilled an OOOOOOO as the knife hit the
sidewalk, bouncing off the wall behind her and skipping a few feet
away. Harry and Vinnie were laughing, Vinnie walking over to the
knife and picking it up, Georgette walking away still screeching at
Harry. You big freak! You Neanderthal fairy! You—Vinnie threw the
knife yelling think fast. Georgette leaping, pirouetting away from
the knife screaming at them to stop ( only the benzedrine preventing
hysteria now ), but they laughed, their daring growing with her fear;
throwing the knife harder and closer to her feet; the knife skipping
and billiarding away, picked up and thrown again at the dancing feet
(the scene resembling one in a grade B western); the laughing,
leaping and pirouetting stopping suddenly as the blade of the knife
stuck in the calf of her leg (had it been a board, not flesh, the
blade would have vibrated and twanged). Georgette looked quizzically
at the small portion of the blade visible, and handle sticking from
her leg, too surprised to feel the blood rolling down her leg to
think of the wound or the danger, but just staring at the knife
trying to understand what had happened. Vinnie and Harry just looked.
Harry muttered something about that being a good shot and Vinnie
smiled. Georgette looked up, saw Vinnie smiling at her, looked back
at the knife and screamed that her new slacks were ruined. The
others, watching from the Greeks, laughed and Harry asked her what
she was growin from her leg. Georgette simply called him a fuck and
hopped over to the step leading to the side door of the Greeks and
sat down slowly, carefully keeping the leg stiff and extended in
front of her. Harry asked her if she wanted him to yank the knife out
and she screamed at him to go to hell. Leaning down and gently
holding the handle in her fingertips and closing her eyes she tugged
tentatively, then slowly pulled the knife from her leg. She sighed
and dropped the knife, then leaned back against the door jamb, flexed
her leg slightly and reached down and pulled her shoe off. It was
filled with blood. The effects of the benzedrine were almost
completely worn off and she shivered as she poured the blood from her
shoe, the blood splattering as it hit the sidewalk, the small puddle
flowing off in rills in to cracks in the pavement, mixing with the
dirt in the cracks and disappearing. . . . She screamed and cursed
Harry.

Whats the matta Georgie? Has the poor little girl got
a Booboo? She screeched. You brought me down! You rotten freaks, you
brought me down! She looked at Vinnie with pleading in her eyes
trying to regain her composure (the effects of the benzedrine
completely gone now and panic starting to take its place), hoping to
gain his sympathy, looking tenderly as a lover taking irrevocable
leave, and Vinnie laughed thinking how much she looked like a dog
beggin for a bone. Whats the matta? Ya hurt or somethin?

She almost fainted from fear and anger as the others
roared with laughter. She looked at the blur of faces wanting to kick
them, spit into them, slap them, scratch them, but, when she tried to
move the pain in her leg stopped her and she leaned back against the
jamb, now fully conscious of her leg and, for the first time,
thinking of the wound. She lifted her pant leg up to her knee and
trembled as she felt the blood soaked pant leg and looked at the
wound, blood still oozing out, her blood soaked sock and the small
pool of blood under her foot, trying to ignore the whistles and, Atta
girl, take it off.

Vinnie had gone into the Greeks and got a bottle of
iodine from Alex and came out and told Georgette not taworry about
it. I/ll fix it up. He lifted her leg and poured the iodine into the
wound and laughed, with the others, when Georgette screamed and
jumped up, holding the injured leg with both hands, hopping up and
down on the other. They whistled, clapped their hands and someone
started singing, Dance Ballerina Dance. Georgette fell to the ground,
still clutching her leg frantically, and sat in the middle of the
sidewalk spotted by the light from the Greeks, one leg curved under
her, the other up and bent at the knee, her head bowed and between
her legs, like a clown imitating a dancer.

When the pain subsided she got up and hopped back to
the step, sat down and asked for a handkerchief to wrap around her
leg. Whatta yacrazy? I dont want my hankerchief all messed up. The
laughter again. Vinnie stepped gallantly forward and pulled the
handkerchief from her pocket and helped her tie it around her leg.
There yaare Georgie. All fixed up. She said nothing but stared at the
blood; the wound growing larger and larger; blood poisoning streaking
her leg, the streak widening and almost to her heart; the stench of
gangrene from her rotting leg. . . .

Well, comeon, give. What? What did you say Vinnie? I
said give me some loot and I/ll getya a cab so ya can go home. I cant
go home Vinnie. Why not? My brothers home. Well, where-ya gonna go?
Ya cant sit here all night. I/ll go to the hospital. They can fix my
leg and then I/ll go uptown to Marys. Areya crazy or somethin. Ya
cant go to the hospital. When they see that leg of yours theyll wanna
know what happened and the next thing yaknow the lawll be knockin on
my door and I/ll be back in the can. I wont tell them anything
Vinnie. You know that. Honestly. Irma pigs ass. They getya up there
and shoot somethin inya and youll talk ya ass off, vague memories of
radio programs heard and movies seen. I/ll getya a cab and takeya
home. No Vinnie, please! I wont tell them anything. I promise. I/ll
tell them some spick kids did it, holding her leg tightly with both
hands, rocking back and forth with a steady hypnotical rhythm and
trying with desperation not to get hysterical and to ignore the
throbbing pain in her leg. Please! My brothers home. I cant go home
now! Look, I dont know what ya-brother will do and I dont give a
shit, but I know what Im gonna do if ya dont shut thehellup.

Georgette called to him as he walked toward the
avenue to hail a cab, pleading and promising anything. She didnt want
to argue with Vinnie; she didnt want him to dislike her; she didnt
want to provoke him; but she knew what would happen when she got
home. Her Mother would cry and call the doctor; and if her brother
didnt find the bennie (she couldnt throw them away and there was too
much to take at once) the doctor would know she had been taking
something and tell them. She knew they would take her clothes off and
see the red spangled G string she was wearing. Her brother might
ignore the makeup (when he saw her leg and all the blood; and when
her Mother started worrying about her and telling the brother to
leave him alone) but, he would never ignore the bennie and the G
string.

Yet this was not what she really feared; it wasnt
being slapped by her brother that brought back the fear that almost
caused her to faint; that made her think (only briefly) of praying;
that pushed from her mind the smell of gangrene. It was knowing that
she would have to stay in the house for a few days, maybe even a
week. The doctor would tell her to stay off the leg until it healed
properly and her Mother and brother would enforce the doctors order;
and she knew they wouldnt allow any of her girl friends to visit her
and she had nothing except the benzedrine which would probably be
found and thrown away. There was nothing hidden in the house; no way
she could get it. In the house a week or more with nothing. I/d
crack. I cant stay down that long. Theyll bug me. Bug me. O jesus
jesus jesus. . . .

A cab stopped in front of the Greeks and Vinnie got
out and he and Harry helped (forced) Georgette into the rear of the
cab. She continued to plead, to beg; she told them she had a john who
was a Wallstreet Broker and she was going to see him this weekend and
he was good for 20, maybe more. I/ll give it to you. I/ll give you
more. I know where you can get hundreds without any trouble at all. I
know a few fairies who own an Arts & Crafts Shoppee in the
Village. You can stick them up. They always have a lot of money
around; it wont be any trouble—Vinnie slapped her face and told her
ta shut the hell up, trying to see if the cab driver was paying any
attention to what she was saying and telling him something, almost
incoherendy, about his friend just having a accident and was still
kindda shook.

It took less than 3 minutes to drive the few blocks
to Georgettes house. When the cab stopped in front of her house
Vinnie took the change from her pocket and the 3 singles from her
wallet. Is that all ya-got? I/ll give you more in a few days if you
take me to the hospital. Look, if ya dont walk in, we/ll carryya in
and tell ya brother ya tried ta pick up a couplea sailors and they
dumpedya. Will you come over to the house tomorrow and see me, alone?
Yeah, sure. I/ll seeya tomorrow, winking at Harry. Georgette tried to
believe him and for a moment forgot her previous fears and the old
dream flashed briefly across her mind and she could see her room, the
bed, Vin-nie. . . .

She limped toward the door and stopped in the
vestibule, put a handful of bennie in her mouth, chewed then
swallowed them. Before knocking on her door she turned and yelled to
Vinnie not to forget about tomorrow. Vinnie laughed at her.

Vinnie and Harry waited in
the cab until they saw the door open and Georgette go inside, her
Mother closing the door behind her, before they paid the driver. They
left the cab, walked down the street to the avenue, turned the corner
and walked back to the Greeks.