The Royal Family (51 page)

My wife have boyfriend! That’s why I come here and I drink big!

Sew her pussy shut!

They were all laughing, all red in the face.

Me, I have two wives—one here, one in Vietnam. So I tell everyone I’m single!

Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!

Aaaaaaah!
they chorused, clinking glasses.

What a bunch of lousy fucking misogynists, Domino muttered. She stood waiting patiently outside the window for a good ten minutes, but her Vietnamese regular never kept his appointment. She reached inside her heart and tore her happiness into shreds which she then released from her bloody-fingernailed fists like confetti and twisted under both heels.

Half a block away, bright blonde girls all in a row were going into the black cop van. Suddenly there were no more girls.

Beatrice likewise expressed affectionate joy at Domino’s return, congratulating and kissing her in a way that aroused the blonde; she always desired Beatrice even though she was fat and she stank. So for a moment she actually believed that Beatrice cared for her, and kissed her in return. When they were cheek to cheek, the Mexican girl whispered: I got a surprise for you. I doan use
los drogas
no more.

Why’s that? said the blonde, not really listening as she slid her finger slowly down into Beatrice’s underpants.

I was talking to God, and God said: Beatrice, doan use
los drogas
no more. And I said: Thank you, God. Thank you for thinking about me.

Whatever, said Domino. Hey, you want a hit off my crack pipe?

Okay, said Beatrice with a happy guilty smile.

Domino’s hand on her vulva felt as scorching as one of those dark boxcars sitting in the hot California sun. Beatrice was simultaneusly aroused and afraid. Understanding very well what the blonde intended, she wished that she could have run away to her Mama the Queen, but she respected Mama too greatly to disturb her. It was late afternoon. The fire escapes of the Tenderloin shone in the sun like charbroiled bones. They went to the abandoned ball bearing factory and made love, Domino giving it to her really hard with a dildo until Beatrice screamed with pain, pain flashing in and out of her in a rhythm like the quaking of a bar’s double doors in Mexicali to let in a blast of white-hot sunlight and flashes of car-hoods upon the fat whores inside, may they rest in peace, who are busy shrieking with laughter, peering over each other’s shoulders and slapping each other’s palms, bright and burning pain expertly applied which ended as soon as it began, pain which Beatrice could not comprehend, and so—a blessed strategem, as priests might say—she did not attempt to comprehend it, putting on that same absent look in her eyes that she displayed when she leaned up against a storefront for hours, waiting and waiting to sell her pussy but already high, already well, so she was already gone and whatever bad thing was supposed to happen to her that night could safely happen because she was dead enough to roll with any punch. Although she dared not pray to the Virgin anymore, because in her state that might be blasphemy, the Virgin still sometimes came into her heart and gave her advice, and one time she warned Beatrice always to please and placate, in case something happened to the Queen. This was only another job—certainly not as bad as being raped. Sometimes she even felt pleasure, when Domino refrained from doing it too hard. But today the blonde was very needy; she’d been in prison too long; she couldn’t control herself. Beatrice merely prayed to God (Whom even a damned soul such as herself could always pray to) to protect her from getting a hemorrhage. Then it was over. Domino climaxed with loud and ringing cries. She embraced Beatrice, kissed her many times, and gave her more crack. The pain was all ended now. Hard, yet bright of mood and somehow sincere, as she could still be at many an odd moment, she said to her: I love your box, hon. You’ve got such a fine, fine little box, such a hot little box . . . —Beatrice felt intensely safe and happy in Domino’s arms.

Don’t you think I’m to die for? said Domino, who felt so high-spirited that she was almost crazed.

Sure, said the john.

You don’t have to die for me. I’ll just kill you—ha, ha, ha!

In a hotel room, the john slowly masturbated, then ejaculated onto her face. Domino went to the sink and washed herself off. Within five minutes she’d convinced herself that it hadn’t happened, and her exhilaration returned.

Around the corner from the O’Farrell Theater (
“THE PLACE TO GO IN SAN FRANCISCO”
), there was Domino, so luminously blonde, stopping traffic in her sweatshirt and shorts, turning her head, slowly gazing over her shoulder at the passing cars all the way along Larkin to the Ambika Hotel where my friend Mayumi got threatened while distributing free food, and then the Nitecape and the Dong Baek Korean restaurant, all the way to the 501 Club on Jones, the Hong Kong oriental massage place, the Columbia Hotel, the parking garage on Mason, the Irish Horse, the Virginia Hotel—she could see everything, and it all belonged to her. She pulled down her shorts so that the entire world could see pussy-fur, then screamed:
I’m the best!

Loreena was only three hours into her shift at the Wonderbar when Domino came in with Lily, and two johns clung to them like tourists hanging onto a cable car’s sides. —You’re buying, Loreena heard one john say to the other john. You’re the high roller.

Usual? said Loreena to the johns to make them feel special. (She often got tips that way.) The johns had been in yesterday, and each of them had ordered a shot of tequila straight up.

Yeah, the one who was paying said. That usual.

And I know what these ladies want, said Loreena with a neutral smile.

From the corner, an old drunk in a cowboy hat cried: None of that street tramp trash for me. Hey! Hey! I’m talkin’ to you all. Go by the Four-Star or the Mitchell Brothers to get girls with real class. Spit in my eye if you can’t. None of this T.L. trash. None of this Capp Street trash.

Be quiet, Alfie, said Loreena. Let Domino and Lily do their thing.

Well, so what do you think? Domino was saying to her prey. You going to do it or not? If you’re not going to do it, I don’t have all night.

I’ll have to ask the boss, the john who wasn’t paying replied.

Loreena was pouring Domino her rum and Coke when Domino said sharply: Hey! You shorted me on that!

What do you mean? said Loreena. I gave you two shots instead of one. And two shots are only two dollars when one shot is a dollar seventy-five. And if Heavyset were here, he wouldn’t let me go past the line. A shot’s a shot, he’d say. But I filled it right up to the top.

Fuck the owner, said Domino. You shorted me.

Look, Domino, said Loreena. I don’t like it when you start getting sniffy with me. Now watch this.

She took a glass, crammed it full of ice, and poured two shots of bourbon in.

Were you watching, sweetie? she said. Did you get that? See, it’s not even as high as what I gave you. Satisfied?

It should be a quarter-inch higher, Domino insisted.

Fuck
you!
said Loreena, pouring the demonstration glass down the sink while Domino slowly licked her lips.

Thank you, too, Loreena, said Domino with a bright smile.

She gulped her drink down.

So, she said to her john (a man with his glasses on his forehead, a grey suit like a beetle-shell over his paunch), your time’s about up. I have to attend a memorial service for a very close friend who died and I’m trying to raise the money to go. Can you help me out?

Loreena started laughing. Domino glared at her.

Let me go talk to the boss, the john said.

He tapped the other john’s shoulder, and they went into the corner, where they whispered and calculated.

He’s hooked, said Loreena.

Don’t tell me my business, snarled Domino.

It’s my business, too, sweetie. I’ve been watching you put the moves on for years. I never guess wrong about you. You’ll see.

Pour me another shot, said Domino.

Who’s paying? said Loreena.

Put it on their tab.

Well, then let’s make it a double, laughed Loreena, pouring right up to the top of the glass.

That’s more like it, said Domino. Why’d you have to short me the first time?

He said it’s OK with him, her john reported.

All right, let’s go, said Domino, rising. As soon as Loreena had slid the drink across the counter it was aloft and then its contents were down her throat. Truth to tell, Domino had some kind of white fungus on her tonsils, and she drank to kill the pain. Lily had told her once that you didn’t have to worry about AIDS until the white fungus began growing on the roof of your mouth. Then you had problems, Lily said.

Hey, I didn’t order that drink, the boss accused.

Loreena put her hands on her hips. —Well, somebody’s paying for it, mister, and I have a feeling that’s going to be you.

The boss swore and and plunked three dollars down. Loreena would have thanked him, but just then a pimp came in and began to bang on the bar with his fist, shouting: I want an orange juice right now!

Go fuck yourself! said Loreena with a happy laugh.

Meanwhile, in the back seat, the john insisted on holding Domino’s hand while the boss drove and told dirty jokes to Lily. Domino let her john do what he wanted while she stared out the window. She saw Beatrice standing on the corner, holding a soda as she gazed up at the brickwork of the Goodness Tenderloin Center. Domino didn’t wave.

So was it a close friend who died? the john ventured.

Oh, actually it’s a barbeque, said Domino with a yawn. For a lady with a pet potbellied pig.

Ten minutes later he was trying to pull her down on the floor of the boss’s place, while in the bedroom where the boss and Lily were, the bed creaked loudly and briefly.

How much are you going to pay me? said Domino.

You said twenty dollars, the john said.

That’s just to prime my pump. How much you got?

The john turned his pockets inside out and excreted thirty.

All right, said Domino. Now, what do you want me to do?

Just lie in my arms for a minute, the john said.

Oh, so you’re one of those, said Domino.

What’s that mean?

Domino, bored, got down on her side and lay rigid while the man touched her breasts.

That just tickles, she said after awhile. Cut it out.

Lifting her skirt, the john discovered the same motorcycle scar which had impressed Tyler, and then a new tattoo of two linked female symbols.

Oh, are you bi? he said.

Yep, said Domino. Get on with it.

Can I eat you out? he said.

Mm hm, said Domino, not listening.

He opened her legs and started to lower his face and she said: Oh, no, I don’t do that.

Oh, okay, the john said.

Well, thank you for being such a gentleman, said Domino. This was fun. I’ve got to go.

She stood up and walked out, leaving Lily in the now silent bedroom. What did she care about that bitch?

Domino rolled a condom onto the customer’s penis with her tongue, started to suck him, took her face away for a moment, winked and said: This is the worst chewing gum I ever tasted.

The man laughed so hard he lost his erection.

That’s it then, said Domino. You’re done.

Just a minute, said the man. Together they stared at his flaccid penis, as if it might actually rescue the two of them from each other, but nothing happened.

Better luck next time, said Domino. Thanks for being such a gentleman.

She rose so that her skirt fell back down to her knees, slipped on her high heels, and strode triumphantly out while the man sat holding his penis in disbelief. Domino was in a hurry now. She did not spare much consideration for the impressionist lampshade-light in the brick windows of Chinatown, nor for the red diamonds on the whitewalled apartments above the Golden City Restaurant and Market. Once very very long ago she’d been a go-go dancer shouting to keep the job she was late for, shouting until the phone booth reeked of her perfume; she’d lost that job and lost the next. In a quarter-hour she was back home among the Tenderloin’s laughing and mumbling whores in the
rain, the high-priced whores who sported satin umbrellas and shimmering boots, and whose faces were as blank and shiny as new Coca Cola cans. A blonde in a white skirt and a black umbrella offered each car a little-girl wave.

I used to look as good as that, said Domino, looking the young blonde up and down.

What are you staring at? sneered the young blonde. You’re nothing. You’re just an old sack of trash!

Domino then felt the same sensation as her late companion, the man with the flaccid penis. But she did not herself withdraw into flaccidity. Snatching up a broken beer bottle from the sidewalk, she rushed the girl and brought the club down on her forehead hard enough to shatter glass anew. The girl fell down bleeding and screaming. Domino, knowing better than to tempt the squat square rainy black buttocks of police cars, slipped off her high heels and ran down to Turk Street. Then, reshod, she approached the parking lot on Golden Gate where the tall man man lorded it over the shadows.