South Street (28 page)

Big Betsy waddled out of the ladies’ room, hitching her girdle up around where her hips had once been. “Damn,” she muttered, “these things is sposed to be livin’, but this one’s close to death.”

“No wonder,” Leo said under his breath.

Big Betsy sat down at the bar and looked at Rayburn, who, having extinguished with beer the fire the gin had kindled, sat swaying back and forth. “Leo, man,” said Rayburn, “be a pal an’ get this po’ nigger a drink.”

“What the hell happened to him?” said Big Betsy.

“Wife left him,” said Leo, pouring out a more conventional slug of gin.

“When’d it happen?”

“He just got here, Betsy,” said Leo patiently.

“I was just astin’, Leo.”

Leo looked up at the TV. Rayburn downed his gin. “Shit,” said Big Betsy, “there ain’t gonna be no business tonight. Too much competition.” She shot an angry glance down the bar at Vanessa, who was paying no attention. Big Betsy turned a sour eye on Rayburn. “Serves the bastard right,” said Big Betsy. “He shoulda knowed that light-skinned gal wasn’t nothin’ but a gutter whore.” She said it loud enough for the world to hear, and Vanessa looked up for a minute, then looked away. Rayburn sat stoically, not batting an eyelash. Leo stared at her.

“I’ll be goddamned, if that ain’t the spic callin’ the wop a greaseball.”

“Is not,” said Big Betsy. “I ain’t never tricked no good man into marryin’ me.”

“That,” Leo told her, “would take the best damn witch doctor in the world. There’s dumb men, but there ain’t
any
that dumb.”

“I had ma share a offers,” snarled Big Betsy.

Leo snorted. “Goddamn. He struck out. Three on, one out, an’ the fucker strikes out. I don’t know why the hell I don’t move someplace where they got a team that can at least hit a goddamn fly ball.”

“You better believe I had offers,” Big Betsy said.

Leo looked at Rayburn. “How you doin’, Rayburn?”

“Ain’t doin’ shit,” said Rayburn. Both his eyes were open now. “How ’bout another drink?” Leo looked at him doubtfully. “Goddamn you black Jew!” Rayburn snarled. He pulled money out of his pocket, bills, all ones. “I can pay, by Jesus!”

“I know you can pay,” Leo said easily. “I just ain’t sure—”

“Goddamn you!” shouted Rayburn. He half rose from the stool, his body shaking. His face was twisted into a mask of anger, but tears leaked from his eyes. He sat down again. “Please, Leo, man. Ma woman lef me. If ma bartender won’t gimme a drink, what I’ma do?”

“Try soberin’ up,” suggested Big Betsy.

“You try shuttin’ up,” said Leo.

Rayburn slowly turned his head until his eyes were trained on Big Betsy. He looked at her steadily, unblinking. Big Betsy met his gaze for a moment, then looked away, her eyes jerking around as if the walls, the floor, the ceiling, everything in the room were too hot to look at; then she looked back at Rayburn, meeting his eyes for one defiant instant before she spun on the bar stool with surprising quickness, like a basketball on the nose of a seal, and looked toward the other end of the bar. Rayburn’s gaze remained fixed on the hump of fat behind Big Betsy’s shoulders. She wiggled uneasily, as if feeling his eyes on her. Leo, moving slowly and silently, poured a slug of gin and a glass of beer and held them ready on the inner rail of the bar. Rayburn stared at Big Betsy’s back, and as if in response to the heat and pressure of his eyes she began to move again, slowly this time, in a ponderous half-revolution clockwise, until her face was once again visible. Her eyes met Rayburn’s and she looked away, but her body continued its slow turning. She looked at his face again.

“Ma wife done run off,” Rayburn said.

“You want some scotch an’ milk?” asked Leo.

Big Betsy shook her head. “This here’s talkin’ business.” Her jowls sagged dejectedly, but her eyes were soft and serene. She looked at Rayburn. “Gimme gin.”

Leo wordlessly poured her gin and set it in front of her. He moved away, retrieving his earplug and attaching it to the TV set. He started to sit down but stopped, shrugged, and went down to the end of the bar. Rayburn and Betsy were sunk in shadow. Betsy patted Rayburn’s arm. Rayburn grabbed her hand. Leo placed a full bottle of gin on the bar. Big Betsy looked up at Leo, then at the bottle, then glanced at the pile of money in front of Rayburn. Leo shook his head, waved a hand, and went back to his ball game.

It was near to closing time, and Leo stood leaning against the bar, thinking how depressing it got, six days a week watching glasses being lifted to mouths, a Saturday night with few customers, all of them unhappy. Leo drew himself a short beer and looked around the room at the handful of dark shapes. At the far end of the bar, merged into a lumpy blob of shadow, were Big Betsy and Rayburn, swaying slowly out of time with the juke. All night long Rayburn had been feeding the machine quarters, and Leo had sworn he was going to use his shotgun on the thing if he had to listen to “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” one more time. Around the bar, tucked back in the corner where the wood met the cinderblock wall, half obscured by smoke and dimness, sat Vanessa. She had been sitting there all night long, sipping Singapore Slings and watching the door. She had consumed ten drinks, and Leo speculated as to whether she had not moved because she didn’t want to or because she couldn’t. Leo didn’t see Jake until he heard the wino’s voice at his elbow. Leo turned his head slowly, he was too tired to move fast. Jake shoveled a handful of coins onto the bar, and Leo poured him a glass of wine. Jake raised it. “Seen him again,” Jake said.

“Huh?” said Leo.

“I seen him. Walkin’ around like—what you call them things that walks around? I seen one in a movie one time.”

“Zombies?”

“Yeah, that’s it. He was walkin’ around like one a them there. Talkin’ to hisself.”

“How come you can hear what folks is sayin’ to theyselves bettern you can hear what they says to you?” Leo said.

Jake grinned. “Now, Leo, you know half a bein’ hard a hearin’ is bein’ hard a listenin’. ’Sides, I. didn’t say I heard what he was sayin’, I just heard he was sayin’ it. Ain’t he been in here?”

Leo sighed. “Ain’t
nobody
been in here. ’Sides, I wouldn’t know him if I saw him.”

Jake looked up in surprise. “What you mean, you wouldn’t know him?”

“Well, I might,” Leo said, “if you was to tell me who the hell you’re talkin’ about.”

“Why, Brown. Who else?”

“Oh, shit,” Leo groaned. “Not him again. I don’t want to hear that damn name ever again. No, he ain’t been in here, an’ I can prove it, because the place is still standin’ an’
she
”—he jerked his head toward Vanessa—“is still settin’.”

Jake peered through the gloom. “Who’s she? Say, ain’t that—”

“Sure is,” said Leo.

“But wasn’t she—”

“Sure was,” said Leo.

“An’ then he—”

“Sure did,” said Leo.

“An’ ’fore that wasn’t she—”

“Sure was,” said Leo.

“An’ now she’s—”

“All night,” said Leo.

“Damn,” said Jake. “An’ you let her stay?”

“Yeah,” Leo said tiredly. “She wasn’t botherin’ nobody. Says she ain’t trickin’ no more.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I hear Leroy pays her to stay outa circulation so folks won’t say he screws whores.”

Leo looked at him in amazement. “Goddamn, Jake, is there anything on this street you don’t know about?”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “I don’t know how come ma wine glass is always empty, an’ I don’t know why that Brown keeps walkin’ around like a—whad you say you called them things?”

“Zombies,” Leo supplied.

“Yeah.” Leo refilled the wine glass and removed a dime from the pile of change on the counter. “Leo,” Jake said in a philosophical tone of voice, “by the time a man gets to be my age he finds out it’s a good idea to keep his eyes open, ’specially if he don’t hear too good. Now in the case a Brown, it wasn’t ma eyes, it was ma legs.”

“Your legs,” Leo said.

“That’s right, ma legs. I was coppin’ a few Zs in that alley down the other side a the Delmonaco, an’ here comes that Brown fallin’ over me, wanderin’ around like one a them zomblies.”

“Zombies,” Leo corrected.

“Yeah.”

“Well, so long as he don’t come in here pickin’ fights, he can wander clear to Hell,” Leo said.

“You’d a thought you was in Hell if him an’ Leroy’d both come in while she was here.”

Leo shrugged. “An’ then there’s Rayburn.”

“His wife left him,” Jake said. “She’s shackin’ up with Leroy.”

“What? You kiddin’?”

“Nope,” Jake said. “I wish I was. It’s gonna ruin Rayburn.” He looked down the bar, then looked back at his wine.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky an’ it’ll ruin Leroy,” said Leo. “Rayburn used to be pretty good with that razor.”

“Humph,” Jake said. “Like the old man said to the hooker, I ain’t payin’ two bucks for what used to be. ’Sides, Rayburn’d have to carve away for half an hour on Leroy ’fore he got to anythin’ important. Leroy ain’t got no heart, an’ he ain’t got no guts; he’s just an’ oversize stomach an’ a king-size gall bladder, an’ the rest of him’s full a shit.”

Leo snorted and shook his head. “I wish I understood women.”

“Women is easy to understand,” Jake said. “They’re just like men, more or less, almost, an’ sometimes.”

“Well, I sure don’t understand that one. I never saw a man as crazy about a woman as Rayburn was ’bout that one. So now—”

“How ’bout a refill,” Jake said.

“Sure,” Leo said, pouring it. “Jake, how come—”

“How come all these questions,” Jake said. “Maybe you oughta ask your pet preacher.”

“
My
pet preacher! Who hauled him in here?”

“Who let him stay?”

“We’re all crazy,” Leo said.

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Probly all end up like Brown, wanderin’ around like zomblies.”

“Zombies,” Leo said.

“I know how to say it,” Jake snapped.

Rayburn rose unsteadily and staggered toward the door. He stopped in front of Leo, focusing his eyes with difficulty. “Night, Leo,” he said with exaggerated dignity.

“You gonna be all right gettin’ home?” Leo said.

Rayburn thought about it. “Home?”

Leo looked at Jake. Jake eyed the rafters. “Home,” Leo told Rayburn, “is where you’re goin’, because it’s closin’ time. Now, can you make it that far?”

Rayburn thought about it a little too hard and nearly lost his balance. Jake reached out to steady him. Rayburn shrugged his hand away. “Certainly,” he said. “Certainly I can make it that far. How far is it?”

“How far—it’s seven blocks, Rayburn. Seven goddamn blocks.”

“Better tell him which direction, Leo,” Jake advised.

“Seven blocks,” said Rayburn. “That’s a long way.”

“You shoulda figured that out before,” Leo said. “Ain’t nobody here to hold your hand.”

“I ain’t astin’ nobody to hold ma hand,” Rayburn said. “I’m fine.” He turned on his heel and collided heavily with the wall.

Leo sighed. “Siddown, Rayburn. I’ll see you get home.”

“I can make it,” Rayburn said, pushing himself away from the wall. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Better point him towards the door, Leo, ’fore he hurts hisself,” Jake said.

Leo glared at him. “Just siddown, Rayburn.”

“I don’t need no help,” Rayburn said.

“Yeah, sure,” said Leo. “Now siddown right there.”

“I can make it,” Rayburn insisted. He sat down heavily.

Leo sighed. “Okay, everybody, closin’ time.”

“Thank God it’s Saturday,” Jake said. “I ain’t been feelin’ too good lately. I think sleepin’ in alleys upsets ma stomach.” He swallowed the rest of his wine and waited for a refill.

“Rotgut upsets your stomach,” Leo told him.

“Nah,” said Jake, “wine’s good for you. Ma old man useta tell me how wine helped him with his constipation, kept him healthy. Course he died when he wasn’t nothin’ but sixty-seven….”

“G’night, Leo,” said Big Betsy. She paused to look at Rayburn. He gazed at her glassily.

“Whad you tell him, Betsy?” asked Leo.

“Told him his wife was a low-down rotten cunt that didn’t know a man when she saw one.”

“Whad he say?”

“Same thing he’s sayin’ now.” Big Betsy turned away from Rayburn, snorting in disgust. “What the hell’s the matter with him, Leo? That girl’s been screwin’ around since the day he married her, an’ everybody on the damn street knows it but Rayburn. You know, the fool sat there cryin’ an’ sayin’ it was all his fault. Leo, I’m tellin’ you, the fool is a fool. Ain’t you, Rayburn?” Rayburn smiled glassily. Big Betsy punched him on the shoulder. Rayburn swayed gently. “Ain’t you a fool, Rayburn?” said Big Betsy. She punched him again. Rayburn swayed. Big Betsy hit him again. Her jowls jiggled. “Ain’t you, Rayburn?” Rayburn swayed.

“Leave him be,” Vanessa said. She came up behind Big Betsy.

Big Betsy glanced at her, sneered, punched Rayburn again. “Ain’t you a fool?” said Big Betsy.

Leo started to reach across the bar. “Lay off, Betsy.”

“A fool,” said Big Betsy, and she made to hit Rayburn again. Vanessa caught her arm and held her.

“Let him be,” Vanessa said.

Big Betsy abandoned Rayburn and turned on Vanessa. “Well, well, if it ain’t our local vendin’-machine cunt. Anybody got a quarter?”

Vanessa’s nostrils flared but she said nothing. She stepped around Big Betsy and hauled Rayburn to his feet. “I’m takin’ him home,” she announced.

“Merry Christmas,” Leo said.

“You like ’em drunk, ’Nessa?” said Big Betsy.

Vanessa got Rayburn into low gear and steered him toward the door. “Shut up, Betsy. I’m just helpin’ him home ’fore you beats him to death.”

“He’s already beat to death,” Big Betsy said. “Can’t nobody help him.”

“Don’t need no help,” said Rayburn. Vanessa pushed him out the door.

“Go to hell,” Big Betsy shouted after them. “Way I hear it, ’Nessa, the onliest way you
can
please a man is if he’s too drunk to do nothin’.”

“G’night, Betsy,” Jake said. “You could lick your weight in police dogs, you’re such a bitch.”

“Jake, you’re a goddamn wino,” Big Betsy said. “You’re a goddamn wino an’ I’m a goddamn whore an’ Leo’s a goddamn bartender with olives for balls an’ a pickle for a prick.”