Last Exit to Brooklyn - Hubert Selby Jr (5 page)

Goldie sent Rosie, a demented female who acted as
sortofa housemaid, for gin, cigarettes and another gross of bennie.
They made a small pot of bouillon and danced around it dropping
tablets in and chanting bennie in the bouillon, bennie in the
bouillon, whirling away the fear and boredom, giggling, popping
bennie, drinking gin, toasting Georgette: Long Live THE QUEEN, and
the laying out of Arthur. He should be laid out, but I mean really,
the freak, each in her mind and turn laying out every rough or
straight sonofabitch that ever hit them or pointed and laughed;
dancing through the apartment until they fell into chairs trying to
catch their breath, fanning themselves; and Rosie brought bouillon,
ice and gin and they spoke more quietly, still laughing, asking
Georgette again and again to tell them how she laid her brother out .
. . then gradually they quieted, too spent to shout, stretching in
their seats, getting higher and higher as they sat quietly and
becoming conscious of the absence of men, their high spirits and
overflowing joy making the absence of love known. So her subjects
petitioned the Queen to summon forth her dashing husband and his
rough trade friends, for tonight they were daring and even Camille, a
frail queen from a small town in Jersey, longed for rough arms, there
being no room, but absolutely no room, for johns. So Georgette,
flying in her world of junk, called the Greeks and flushed (O, my
libido is twitching) when she heard Vinnies voice and fluttered her
lids when he said hello sweetchips, whereya been? O, Ive been balling
it loverman, smiling at her friends and too high to be bothered by,
Ive got ya loverman shit. Itll still costya. She asked him to come
over with some of the boys, giggling yes when he asked if she was
high, telling him they had loads of gin and not to worry about gold
for gas to get back, and Vinnie said maybe they would (for kicks) and
Georgette continued to talk after Vinnie hungup, rolling her hips as
she sighed, O Vinnie baby, and sighing as she slowly lowered the
phone. They asked her if they were coming, how many, when—and
Georgette played it cool and to the hilt; regally walking back to her
throne, telling the girls to be quiet. Really! One would think it was
years since you had a real man. They may be here in an hour or so, if
they dont pull a job, so just keep your legs crossed, flaunting her
arms, smiling graciously and secretly. They drank more bouillon,
popped more bennie and dished the dirt. Camille was nervous, never
having met an excon before. You just never meet that sort back home.
As a matter of fact Goldie was the first hip queen she had ever met.
All the fairies in her town were closet queens or pinkteas, so she
was all a dither, jumping up, jerking around the room, asking
question after question, Georgette telling her stories about broken
noses, cut throats and Camille ooood and squealed, loving the
tightness in her stomach and the apprehension in her bowels. She said
she felt faint and that she simply must take a bath. The others
laughed and chided, Georgette waving off the how could you/s as
Camille filled one of the tubs in the kitchen and laid out her
brushes: One for her back, one for her stomach, one for her chest,
one for her arms, one for her legs, one for her feet, one for her
toenails, one for her hands, one for her fingernails, and a special
jar of cream for her face. She lined them up, handles facing her, and
started from the left with the back brush. They told her to hurry or
she would be attacked while bathing and O she was frightened, they
should know better than to talk of such things. She was so upset she
almost broke wind.

Camille had finished her bath, collected her brushes
and was primping in the bathroom when the bell rang. Georgette almost
jumped to the door, but contained herself, sat back, leaning her head
to one side hoping the light was falling on her face properly, and
waited for someone to open the door. She held her cigarette daintily
and tried to hide her excitement. Over an hour since the call and
though Miss Camille, while in the tub, had afforded Georgette an
opportunity to appear relaxed and carefree, during the time that
elapsed since Camille finished Georgette was forced to retain her
position, and the center of attraction, by amusing the others with
stories, laying this one and that one out, the girls laughing at her
wit; continually talking and hoping the bell would ring before too
many seconds of silence forced her to think of what to say next or
allowed the others to become conscious of time and ask about Vinnie
(VINNIE!!! Vinnie had to come) or allowed her fears to come back to
the surface . . . but the bell rang and she swallowed another bennie,
finished her bouillon and once again adjusted herself on her throne.

Goldie opened the door and the boys strolled in,
looked around, stood in the kitchen, looking, until Vinnie led the
way into the living room. Whatayasay Georgie? Hows the leg? O, just
fine, thank you, tilting her head to the side just a wee bit more and
taking a quick Bette Davis like drag on her cigarette. The other guys
strolled around the room, eventually flopping here and there. Harrys
eyes bugged when he saw Lee. She looked like one of the show girls
you see in some of the magazines (her hair was shoulder length and
golden blond and she was always smartly in drag), a real doll. Harry
kept staring, not digging the score. He had never been to Goldies
before and he thought maybe she was Rosie the freak he had heard the
guys talk about, but man, she didnt look like no freak. She looked
like a real fine piecea ass. Goldie prepared drinks, putting a bennie
in each, and stepped lightly through the rooms dispensing them,
smiling and simply brimming over with joy. Lee told Rosie to bring
her another pack of cigarettes and when Rosie simpered and said no
Lee pointed a finger at her and told her to bring them here at once
or you will be out on the street with the other freaks, Miss
Cocksucker. (Harry looked at Lee, still puzzled, then figured she
must be one of the queens. But shes still a fine piecea ass.) Rosie
threw the cigarettes to Lee and ran to the bathroom and pounded on
the door until Camille unlocked it, then stepped around her and sat
on the floor between the sink and the toilet-bowl. O really Rosie. I
mean! Camille sniffed, primped her hair again, peeked out, walked to
the kitchen and slowly inched her way to the living room hoping her
makeup was on properly (that light over the mirror is simply
terrible) and glided into the room and slowly lowered herself beside
Goldie and, as did the other girls, surveyed the prospective suitors.
Her eyes almost blurred with excitement. They had such hard looks.
Why their eyes went right through you as if you were naked. She
squirmed slightly. But it is wonderful. But what should she do? Of
course she had never even so much as hinted the truth to the other
girls, but she was a virgin. She had talked with a few of the queens
back home and they told her how to go about doing it, always
cautioning her never, but never to take it out of her mouth when he
was coming because it might just get all over you and in your eyes
and you know honey, you can go blind from that, and anyway thats the
moment when everything just explodes and you wont want to take it out
. . . But how do you start? what do you say??? O, I hope everything
will be alright.
 

Goldie inquired if they were ready for another drink
and they said yeah, but not so much of that sodashit. Thats o k for
you girls, but I like somethin with a kick, so Goldie swished lightly
to the kitchen, lowering her eyes at Malfie, fixed another drink with
just a drop of mixer and another bennie, distributed the drinks and
asked them if they would like a bennie. Sure, why not. So she passed
the box around, telling them to take two, then sat down glancing
coyly from time to time, at Malfie.

Georgette no longer tried to control the
conversation, but concentrated on Vinnie, trying, of course, to give
a disinterested impression, wanting to let her friends see that he
was hers. She tried toying with Harry, hoping to arouse a sense of
jealousy in Vinnie, but Harry continually grabbed her by the ears and
rubbed his crotch and tolder he got a nice fat lob forer ta suck, and
Georgette sat back on her throne and threw her head to the side and
told him she wasnt interested in boys, Miss Pinkie, then leaned
toward Vinnie when she saw him staring at Lee. Vinnie was hip to Lee,
but she still looked like a lovely doll and he thought of her as a
dame. Lee enjoyed the idea of them staring at her, but turned her
head and spoke to Goldie or Camille or the room in general. After
all, she had worked in some of the best drag joints and had been
featured in the professional magazines and it certainly would be
beneath her dignity to openly fraternize with roughtrade (admittedly
though she did enjoy them within the safety of the apartment). That
may be alright for Georgette, and the others, but someone in her
position couldnt afford to be seen with scum, and their manners are
far too repulsive . . . but it might be fun to play with them . . .
Camille continued to look, worry and hope.

Goldie asked Malfie if he would like another drink
and he said sure sweetheart, fillerup and Goldie filled the glass
with gin, just a bit of mixer, no bennie (too much might kill his
nature), yelled for Rosie to get more gin like a good girl. Rosie
smiled, you like me Goldie? and Goldie patted her head, of course
Rosie. Now run along like a good girl and get the gin. When Goldie
handed the drink to Malfie she brushed lightly against his leg and
smiled. Malfie raised his eyes slightly and Goldie twittered and
asked if he would like some pot. Yamean weed? Of course darling.
Yeah. She rushed into the bedroom (he didnt move his leg), came out
with a small cookie tin and passed the joints around. Georgette
blasted with a flourish, letting the ash get long and loose then
dragging hard and sucking the ash in with the smoke. She laughed
loudly, turning and pointing to be certain that everyone was aware
why she was laughing, and watched Harry as he struggled with the
stick and ranked him as he covered his nose and mouth trying to
suppress a cough. You should have asked us to show you how Harold.
Theres no sense in wasting good pot on amateurs. Georgette enjoyed
the light laughter and sat back sucking hard on her joint, pointing
at Harry as he continued to struggle, feeling her eyes cloud slightly
. . . She rolled her shoulders and looked at her Vinnie then turned
back to Harry as he finally stopped choking and tolder ta shuter
mout, ya cocksucker. I am an expert in my field honey. No body can
suck a cock better than I. But you!!! why youre not even a good
thief. Youre just rank, and she sucked the joint down to an 1/8th of
an inch then dropped the roach in her mouth and, smiling
disdainfully, leaned over and took the partially smoked stick from
Harry. His body was as sluggish as his imagination and he only got
partway to his feet then sat down, trying to ignore the smiles of the
guys and the twittering of the queens, straining to think of
something to say, but only mumbling, fag. Shutup and take your dope
pills, ya hop-head. Lee burst out with a roar and told Georgette she
was surprised that her friends were so square. Not all of them honey,
and she flourished her wrist and tapped Vinnie on the knee. Lee
continued to rank Harry, but he was getting frightfully nasty and Lee
started getting nervous and asked Goldie to turn on the radio and get
some music. Goldie tuned in a jazz program and they slowly relaxed
with the tea and the music. Harry wanted to open a window, but the
guys said nothing and the queens frowned so he sat still, sipping his
drink and watching Lee. Goldie watched Malfies eyes fog, then stared
at his chest as it swelled with the beating of his heart, told him he
may as well take his shirt off as having it hanging open like that,
then watched his flesh move and shine with sweat, loving the small
mat of hair between his breasts and the sweat rolling down and into
the mat. Rosie had been knocking on the door for almost a minute
before Lee, annoyed with the manner in which Miss Goldie was ogling
Maine, got up in a huff and opened the door. She took the gin from
Rosie, put it on the table in the living room, took four more bennie
and a glass of hot bouillon and sat down, disgusted, and tried to
withdraw as far as possible from the sordid party. Cant even take a
few bennie and a little pot without simply drifting off. How
ridiculous. I must say Georgette that I dont think much of these men
friends of yours. I thought they were hip. Goldie heard, but didnt
bother to look at her and continued to stare at Malfie, thinking of
how wonderful it was that they werent used to bennie (getting kicks
too from turning them (him) on), and waiting for the time to fly, as
it does when youre up on bennie, and stop with her and Malfie.
Georgette went to the kitchen, brought back a bowl of ice and a
bottle of mixer, and filled hers and Vinnies glasses. There is no
need to worry Miss Lee. They dont want to have anything to do with
the likes of you. Vinnie was digging the conversation, but was goofed
with the tea and didnt bother to say anything, and just took the
drink from Georgette and looked over his glass at Lee, letting the
smoke come slowly from his nose, and gave her a gee look until Lee
turned her head then Vinnie pursed his lips at Camille and smiled,
glowing inside at the fear in her eyes. Dont worry chippy, nobodys
gonna hurtya. Maybe fuckya a little—Georgette asked him for a
cigarette and he told her ta smoke her own and she fumbled for a
moment until she was certain he was finished speaking to Camille,
then found them.

Rosie sucked at a glass of gin, sitting at Goldies
feet, and Georgette worried about Vinnie going with one of the other
girls and what they would say if he did . . . then stopped worrying
about what they might say but simply about keeping them away from
him. She wanted them to think he was her lover, but more than that
she wanted him as her lover. Even if only once. If only that. She
took another bennie with her gin and listened to the music. The Bird
was playing. She tilted her head toward the radio and listened to the
hard sounds piling up on each other, yet not touching, wanting to
hold Vinnies hand, the strange beautiful sounds (bennie, tea and gin
too) moving her to a strange romance where love was born of
affection, not sex; wanting to share just this, just these three
minutes of the Bird with Vinnie, these three minutes out of space and
time and just stand together, perhaps their hands touching, not
speaking, yet knowing ... just stand complete with and for each other
not as man and woman or two men, not as friends or lovers, but as two
who love . . . these three minutes together in a world of beauty, a
world where there wasnt even a memory of johns or punks, butch queens
or Arthurs, just the now of love . . .