Читать книгу Little Green - Loretta Stinson - Страница 9

Sympathy for the Devil

“HEY, ERNIE GIVE ME A BIRD AND A BUD.” PAUL JESSE pulled a bill from his money clip. He carried a roll of bills sorted by denomination with the presidents facing the same way. He placed a Jackson on the bar and sat down. It was still early and only a couple regulars, old men with nothing much to do sipped beer and waited for the dancers to come on.

Ernie took a bottle of Wild Turkey off the shelf behind him and poured Paul a shot glass, grabbed a bottled Bud from the cooler and put the change on the bar, counting it off out loud. “Where you been hiding yourself?”

Paul took a sip of beer and wiped his Fu Manchu. “Went down to the city to see my kid and do a little business.”

“You take your bike?”

“Yeah. Twelve hours straight. My back is killing me.”

Ernie laughed.

Paul Jesse thought of The Habit as his office. He’d never been a grunt; never done more than a cursory pass at a straight job. He liked to think of himself as a Mongol trader from faraway times running drugs between Seattle and San Francisco – occasionally a trip East with a carload of dope. He’d known Ernie and Stella growing up in San Francisco where their families all lived within blocks of each other. Paul kept the dealing at The Habit low-key and mellow, gave a good deal, and never much looked at the women. He believed in the Golden Rule: deal unto others as you would have them deal unto you. He didn’t so much sell the drugs as they sold themselves. He merely delivered them. His bags of dope were never short; whatever he sold was guaranteed to get you high; he never ripped anyone off, didn’t sleep with their women, and if he stayed overnight on a long trip, he turned his hosts on to whatever he was selling. Dope was business and pleasure. Dope was away of life.

Ernie called out. “Let’s go, Shady. You’re up.”

A girl’s voice called back. “I’m just looking for some decent music, Ernie.”

Paul lowered his shades and glanced at the mirror behind the bar. A new dancer. She had long hippie-girl brown hair. A loosely belted robe revealed the curve of a breast. She wore old scuffed cowboy boots and mirrored sunglasses. Paul sipped from the shot glass.

Ernie smiled and yelled to the girl as she climbed the steps of the stage, “Soon as you learn to dance, baby, we’ll get you some new tunes.”

Brown Sugar came on the jukebox, and Paul turned on his stool to see what the new girl would do. It seemed like she was looking right at him, but it was probably Ernie she was looking at when she stuck out her tongue and shook her ass like some little kid. It made him smile. Paul turned his back to the stage and watched from the mirror. “Who’s the new girl?”

“That’s Janie. We been calling her Shady Lady. Cute, ain’t she?”

Paul nodded. “A little young.”

“We’re calling her eighteen.”

Paul shook his head. “Yeah, and I’m calling myself Miss America.”

“I’ll get your tiara, Your Highness.”

Paul watched the girl dance her set and finished his beer. When she walked off stage, he stood and called to Ernie. “Later, man.”

In the parking lot he climbed on his Harley Davidson ’58 Panhead and kicked her on. He hadn’t caught a shower or any sleep for a couple days. The road wound up a hill to a gravel road where he turned in. Paul rented a trailer parked behind Ernie’s house. He showered at Ernie’s and sometimes used the kitchen, but mostly the trailer was just a squat to sleep in when he needed. Paul unlocked the back door of the house and left it open while he got a clean towel from his trailer. He could smell Ernie’s through the open door – beer, cigarettes, and dirty socks.

Paul’s long hair was braided for riding. In the bathroom, he cut the rubber band that held the braid together at the bottom and loosened it with his fingers. His hair was stiff from the long ride and held the waves of the braid even after he brushed it. He undressed and turned on the shower, waiting for the water to run hot before he stepped in. He turned and let the steaming water pound the sore muscles in his shoulders and back.

This last trip to San Francisco had been tough. He wanted to see his six-year old son, Pauly, but little Pauly didn’t want to see him. Paul sat on the floor outside the kid’s closed bedroom door and talked to him for an hour, trying to get him to at least come out and say hello or goodbye. Little dude wouldn’t go for it.

Mia, his ex, said Pauly was scared of him. He and Mia had been strung out on the crank he’d been selling the last time he’d seen Pauly. The kid still remembered all those bad fights. Paul got paranoid and jealous. Mia got mouthy. Their last fight he’d held her by the throat and slapped the shit out of her. He looked up and saw little Pauly, almost three then, in his cowboy pajamas, wailing for his mom. Paul let go of Mia and walked out. A few months later he rode his bike to Seattle, which reminded him of San Francisco. He didn’t come back for over a year. When he did, Mia had sobriety and a straight old man. She’d even gone and married the guy. Now she, her husband, and Pauly lived in a nice house in the Avenues. The kid had his own room and a chance. Sometimes Paul thought the best thing he could do was forget about the kid. Mia’s husband wanted to adopt him. Paul wasn’t so sure. Thinking of his son was like running his tongue over a sore tooth. Nothing he could do about it now. Best thing probably was to cut the little dude loose.

Paul stepped from the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, wiped the steam from the mirror and looked at himself. Getting old. He was going to be twenty-six this year. Closing in on thirty. Sometimes when he saw himself he wondered where the altar boy had gone. He trimmed his Fu Manchu and shaved his cheeks.

After he combed his hair, Paul cooked a bowl of Ramen noodles and poached an egg on top, dousing it with soy sauce. He took the bowl to the porch to eat. The spring sunshine felt warm. He liked it quiet like this. A Cooper’s hawk circled over a nearby pasture. One of the neighbor’s cats, a scrawny calico, crawled out from under the trailer and rubbed against his legs. Paul put his bowl on the ground for her. The cat lapped up the broken yolk, arching her back as she ate. Animals made better company than most of the people he knew. Paul yawned, stretching as he stood to go inside for a nap. He left the bowl for the cat.

BEFORE LEAVING THAT night for The Habit Paul bagged up an ounce of pot. He threw the baggies into a small paper bag and tucked it in the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He didn’t like to take more than an ounce. During the evening, he made several trips outside to do business with his regulars.

He sat at the bar nursing his second round. Every now and again he’d glance at the mirror to see who was dancing.

Delores slid onto the stool next to him, tugging on his ponytail. “Hey, stranger. When did you get back?”

“Yesterday.” He didn’t look at her. Delores acted like the breeze.

She picked up his glass and took a drink. “How’s the city?”

“Still standing. You going to buy me another drink?”

“Not hardly likely.”

Ernie came down the crowded bar with a rack of clean glasses, a cigarette hanging from his mouth. He frowned at Delores. “Who’s up?”

“Janie’s sick. Amber’s working her set. She’ll go on in a minute.”

“What’s the matter with Janie?”

“She got her visitor.”

“What are you talking about? Her period?” Ernie asked.

Delores pursed her lips. “A period comes at the end of a sentence. The girl’s bleeding like a stuck pig. She ought to go lay down. Can Stella or you run her over to my house?”

“It’s Thursday, Delores – payday. So now I’m short a dancer and you want one of us to take her home?”

Paul started to ease himself off the stool.

Delores grabbed his arm. “Wait a minute, Paul. Can you drive her back to my place?”

Paul shook his head. “No way, Dee. I don’t even know this girl. Besides it’ll take me an hour. Hell. She probably can’t even ride.”

“If you can stay on a bike, she can too. Look Paul, it’ll only take you a half an hour and I’ll buy you another damn drink when you get back.”

“I don’t suppose it matters if I don’t want to.”

Delores smiled. “Be a good boy and do what Mama tells you.”

Ernie laughed. “Might as well give up. Delores has spoken.”

Paul stood and zipped up his jacket. “Let’s get this over with. I got business to finish tonight.”

Paul waited by his bike until the girl came outside. She looked pale and young. She didn’t look like any dancer he’d ever seen. “I’m Paul,” he said. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Not by myself, but I can stay on.”

“ What’s your name?”

“Janie. Thanks for this.”

Paul handed her a clean folded bandana from his back pocket. “You better tie your hair back or you’ll have a real mess by the time I get you to Dee’s.” He kick started the bike and she climbed on behind him. “Just hold on to me and when I lean, you lean.” She nodded and looped her arms around him as they lurched forward out of the parking lot and onto the road. She held him tight and leaned into him as they took the curves. The smell of dairy cows and sweet grass filled the air. She didn’t try to talk, but now and then he could feel her shiver with cold. The ride seemed not to take as long as he thought it would. He slowed the bike and turned into the driveway of Dee’s place. The porch light glowed yellow. He turned off the engine.

As she got off the bike, Janie fell to her hands and knees retching. Paul stooped behind her and held her shoulders, helping her to her feet when she stopped throwing up. Her eyes watered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s get you inside. You’re pretty sick, huh?”

She nodded. “You don’t have to stay. I’m okay now.” She fumbled for a key in her pocket.

“Delores would knock my dick in the dirt if I went off and left you before you’re settled.” Paul steered her up the steps. He took the key when she missed the lock and opened the door. She ran down the hall to the bathroom, leaving Paul standing in the living room.

Paul liked Dee’s place. He’d met her after Mia and before he left California for Washington. They lived together a couple of times when he’d needed a place to crash and she wanted help with the rent. Nothing romantic, though they did get in the habit of sharing a bed. Delores had been business on his part

From the bathroom Paul heard Janie running water. He started a fire in the woodstove for something to do. Now that he was there, he wasn’t in any hurry to leave. He looked in the kitchen for teabags and bread, put the kettle on for tea, and put some bread in the toaster. Mia used to get sick with her periods. Paul always liked the feeling of taking care of her with little things like tea and toast.

By the time he carried everything in from the kitchen, Janie was sitting on the couch in a plaid bathrobe and longjohns. He put the cup and plate on the coffee table.

“You didn’t need to do all that.” Janie’s cheeks flushed.

“Now I can tell Delores you’re all tucked in.” He thought for a minute. “You mind if I hang out for awhile? The quiet is kind of nice for a change. Want to smoke a joint?”

“I better not.”

The fire crackled, filling the silence. Paul felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. This girl didn’t try to make small talk or flirt with him. He looked her over as she licked the butter off her slender fingers. He surprised himself by reaching over and picking up her thick, wet hair. “You put conditioner on it?”

“Yeah.”

“Ought to comb it out before it dries.” Her hair was wavy with flecks of red from the firelight. “You have a comb?”

Janie pulled a wide-tooth comb from the pocket of her robe and handed it to him.

He put a pillow from the couch on the floor in front of him. “Now, I’ll deny I ever did this if anybody asks.” He smiled at her.

Janie moved to the floor. “How do you know so much about hair?”

He worked the tangles with his fingers. “I had a mean big sister. She used to make me comb her hair out and roll it up in orange juice cans. Besides, I got my own hair project going on.”

Janie leaned back against the couch. “You’ve got nice hair.” She said it matter of fact, no extra message.

“There’s an old hippie saying, ‘It’s not the hair, it’s the head it grows on.’ ”

He pulled through the tangles, careful not to hurt her. They didn’t speak again. He felt her nod off. He helped her up on the couch and got a blanket from the closet. He carried the dishes to the sink, banked the fire with a big log, and put on his jacket. Her eyes were closed. She looked peaceful. For a second time Paul surprised himself. He crossed the room and bent low over her. Her hair was now almost dry in his hand. He bent down and put it to his nose, breathing her in. Her eyes blinked open, blue as freshwater, but she didn’t speak. He brushed her cheek with a calloused thumb and left before he could embarrass himself.