Erasure (45 page)

Dana has been invisible up until now. She is younger than Weiß, black, slight. She appears, ready to take Stagg to the holding room. Weiß walks away. Dana leads Stagg down a corridor, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. She does not mention the book, but opens the door, then closes it when Stagg is inside. Stagg sits.

The door opens.

“Monk?” It was Yul. “Is that really you?”

“Shut up,” I said.

Yul sat beside me on the sofa and stared at my beard. “It’s not a very good disguise.”

“It’s good enough. I’ll be off camera.”

Yul shook his head. “You’re walking the thin line, buddy.”

I held my bearded face in my hands. I wanted to cry. I felt so lost, so alone. I looked at Yul. “You’re still the only one who knows?”

“No one in the office even knows. Well, Isabela, the accountant knows, but she hardly speaks any English anyway. She hasn’t put anything together.”

“All this for money,” I said.

Yul nodded, laughing.

“Maybe not,” I said.

He paused and looked at my eyes.

“Meaning?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

“Mr. Leigh, ten minutes,” Dana says from the other side of the door.

I turned to Yul and asked, “Is it too late to jump into my hole and hide?”

“It appears so. Later, when it’s all out, you’ll look back at this stuff and laugh. The irony, and I know it will kill you to hear this, is that this will probably help the sales of your other books.”

“When it’s all out?” I shook my head. “No one is ever going to know that I wrote that piece of shit. Do you understand?”

“Okay, okay, calm down. You’d better get into character.”

And he was right, Stagg Leigh had slipped away from me in my concern about discovery. I closed my eyes and conjured him again. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my dark glasses and put them on.

“Fuck!”
I said.

“I want order!” someone shouts.

Dana leads Stagg to a chair behind a screen. Kenya Dunston approaches. She looks just as she does on televison, no more real than that. She is perhaps heavier.

“Stagg Leigh, chile, I’d know you anywhere,” Kenya says. She hugs Stagg like she knows him, loves him as a friend. “That’s some book, some book.”

“Time, Ms. Dunston,” a young woman says.

“It’s time,” Kenya says. “It’s time.” And she walks to the other side of the screen.

Had I by annihilating my own presence actually asserted the individuality of Stagg Leigh? Or was it the book itself that had given him life? There he was for public scrutiny and the public was loving him. What would happen if I tired of holding my breath, if I had to come up for air? Would I have to kill Stagg to silence him? And what did it mean that I was even thinking of Stagg as having agency? What did it mean that I could put those questions to myself? Of course, it meant nothing and so, it meant everything.

Theme music blares. The audience sings along. Kenya Dunston is introduced. The audience roars. Kenya is excited, so excited. She is smiling broadly, beaming. “I am pleased to have on the show today Stagg Leigh, author of a novel that is just about to be released. It will be a bestseller and I understand that the movie rights have already been sold. Can you believe it? This is Stagg’s first novel. But I must tell you that our guest is rather shy and that he agreed to be with us only if he could remain behind a screen. So, please join me in welcoming the silhouette of Stagg Leigh, author of—” She stopped. “What am I supposed to say? I’ll go ahead and say the title and let the chips fall where they may. Stagg Leigh, author of Fuck.”

Applause.

“How are you, Stagg?”

“Fine.”

“That’s some book.”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to tell us how this story came to you?”

“No.”

“Come on. Is it a true story? Share with us what in your life prompted you to write such a gripping and truly realistic tale?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well, the language is certainly vivid. I felt like I was right there. And exciting? I thought I was going to bust several times while reading.”

“Thank you.”

“Is Go Jenkins based on anyone in particular?”

“No.”

“It’s not easy to get you talking, is it?”

“No.”

“Well, perhaps when we come back from this commercial break, you’ll take some questions from the audience.”

“What the hell is going on?” Kenya says. “That son of a bitch won’t say a goddamn thing. What the hell kind of interview is that?”

Weiß is kneeling beside Stagg. “Please, you’ve got to try to open up a little. Tell us anything. Tell them to buy the book for crying out loud. Anything.”

5

4

3

2

1

“We’re back. Our guest today is the writer Stagg Leigh. He’s here to
discuss
with us his first novel,
Fuck.
Stagg, are you feeling a little more like talking now?”

“Not really.”

General panic. Awkward silence. Restless audience noises. Dana giggles into her fist. Camera pans audience and comes back to Kenya.

“Well, we were warned that our guest is extremely shy and so he is. This would be a good time for me to read a passage from this brilliant novel.” Kenya opens
Fuck
and reads:

I love Cleona and I hate Cleona. There be two lil’ niggers in my head. Nigger A and Nigger B. Nigger A say, Be cool, bro, you know you ain’t gots no money, so just let this girl go on back to school and through maf class and English class and socle studies so she can get out and be sumpin. Just let her have a chance, one chance to be that nurse she always talkin bout bein. But Nigger B be laughin, say, Shit, take this bitch home to her house and hit it one times, two times. She got the nerve to be talkin to Jeep-nigger in front of you.
Beep
that shit. If she gone dis you like that, nail her ass. Later you can go out and find that Jeep-mutha
Beep
and
Beep
him up. Right now, take this
Beep
home and get a taste. You remember how good that
Beep
was, the way she whimpered, like she be crying, like it hurt. Nigger be hurtin a
Beep. Beep
school. She ain’t gone be no nurse. She ain’t gone be nuffin.

When we walk to her house I see some guys playin ball. I ain’t played no ball in a long long time, I thinks to myself. At one time I was real good I could dunk from the top of the key and all like that. I had me a nice jumper too, but
Beep,
how you gone get into college and get all that big money when you ain’t nuffin to begin wif and when the mutha
Beep
make it so you cain’t stay in school. And I wasn’t bout to suck no coach’s
Beep
for a chance to play. I shoulda gone over there when I was good and tried out for the Lakers. I woulda fit right in. Showtime. Me and Magic. I didn’t even need no practice, that how good I was.

Cleona unlocks the door and we goes inside and she turn to me and say, “Now give me the money.”

“Slow down, baby,” I say in my smooth voice. “Why don’t you show me where the baby sleep.”

“You know where the baby sleep. The baby sleep in my room and we ain’t goin in there. Now, give me the money.”